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Everything else falls away into nothingness. All that matters is the feeling of him filling me up, the thrumming in my belly that’s growing more intense with each thrust, the hum of pleasure singing through my veins.
Even though my eyes are closed, the world is growing smaller and smaller. I lose the concept of time, of where I am—I can’t even feel the bed beneath me anymore. All of my senses are attuned to only one thing.
Him.
The orgasm pulls me under violently, my whole body jerking with it. I open my eyes to stars, the room spinning so wildly I have to close my eyes again. My throat is hoarse from screams, but none of them make it to my ears. Alexander fucks me through one orgasm, then two, then three.
My body grows limp, but he keeps going. His hand on my hip keeps me pressed against him, his tight grip on my neck keeps me prone before him. My whole body is an exposed nerve, and he’s determined to wring every bit of pleasure from me until I’m nothing but a sack of bones.
He fucks me for what feels like a harsh eternity.
When I feel his cock shudder inside me, I’m starting to slip beneath my consciousness. The wetness of his release spilling out of me is the last thing I remember before the darkness pulls me under.
* * *
My eyes are sealedshut from dried tears.
I force them open with a groan, using the back of my hands to wipe the gunk free. Every muscle in my body screams in complaint. I blink slowly, the world coming into focus.
Staring up at the ceiling, the memories of my dream come rushing back to me.
And then…
Despite the pain, I jerk into a sitting position, looking around the room frantically. I am alone, thankfully—but that’s the only good news. The bed looks like a crime scene.
The sheets are stained with blood and evidence of Alexander’s release. My nightgown and underwear are in tatters around me. Thin red marks crisscross my chest and torso, and there’s a nasty bruise forming on my hip in the shape of Alexander’s hands. There’s even some of his blood on my belly and thighs.
I swallow thickly around the lump in my throat.
The throbbing pain between my legs. The scratching in my throat every time I swallow. The bruises and welts on my skin. Everything I remember actually happened—even how my desire tricked me into thinking it was okay to fuck himjust one last time. I roll out of the bed onto shaky legs, holding the bedpost for support.
The knife is still on the nightstand.
Strangely, that’s what kindles the anger in me. The blood on the bed is Alexander’s—well, most of it is. It came from a woundIgave him. Yet, he sees me as so little of a threat that he fucked me senseless and left the knife with me.
He doesn’t fear me.
Why should he when he knows that you can’t resist him?
Storming into the bathroom, I try to ignore the thoughts swirling in my head. Flashbacks of last night assault my senses, and I remember every scene vividly. The knife he used on me. The terror and lust. The rough, painful sex.
I should hate it. He broke into my room to watch me sleep and then mauled me like an animal, after all. That’s the sort of thing sociopaths do.
But I don’t hate it.
I fucking loved it. Deep down, I knew he would never hurt me more than I could take—even if it all felt so painful in the moment. What happened between us was the most alive I’ve felt in years. Being able to succumb to the power of passion so completely felt like a truly euphoric moment.
Whatever is wrong with Alexander, it’s wrong with me too.
That’s what makes his betrayal even worse. It’s why I need to protect myself from him. He knows me too well. If I don’t remind him that there are consequences to his actions, he’ll never take me seriously. No, he’ll do whatever he wants and then fuck me like last night to make me forget it. Already, I can feel that my resolve has weakened.
It’s when I step in the shower to rinse him from my skin that I find the spark to rekindle my hatred. If I give in to Alexander now, I’ll never be able to escape him. The freedom I crave will never be mine. I can’t give that up.
Alexander and I are still enemies—even in the moments when we feel like two halves of the same soul. I won’t forget it again.
EIGHTEEN
ALEXANDER
