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The sound echoed in the darkness of the night, her expression growing to one of terror as she regarded him.
"Don't do this, Michele," she whispered again.
"Don't do what, pet? You'll have to be more specific," he smirked as he removed the last bit of material of her underwear until that part of her body was completely bared to him.
"Don't touch me. Don't…." her voice broke. Though she was still looking at him, her eyes clear and unyielding, her voice broke.
"Don't what?" he mocked, still holding on to her neck as he used his other hand to undo his pants. "Come on. Tell me," he chuckled. "You were so brave a second ago, telling me how much you hate me. So come on, do tell."
"Don't hurt me," she said in a quiet voice, her expressive eyes suddenly down-turned.
Those words… He faltered.
For a moment he faltered.
There was something in her gaze, something he was seeing but wasn't quite understanding. Something that momentarily stunned him, but that would haunt him for days—years—to come.
"Tell me you love me," he demanded, his hold softening. "Tell me how much you love me, pet," he murmured the words in a last attempt to show her he could be gentle—that he could be tender. His hand curled around her nape as he held her to him, cradling her close and inhaling her scent.
"It doesn't have to be like this," he cooed in her ear. "Tell me how much you love me pet," he coaxed gently.
In his mind, this was the perfect opportunity for his pet to take her mask of indifference off and confess she was as far gone as he was—that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. This was the moment he'd awaited all along when he'd look at her again and see that adoration dripping from her gaze.
Excitement thumped in his blood, his brain fogging with too much desire for him to think rationally. He could only envision the moment his pet would welcome him in her open arms, in her body—in her fucking soul.
He was prepared for it, just as he was anxious for it.
Trailing his lips all over her cheek, he prolonged the anticipation by peppering her with sweet, soft kisses. One hand caressed her thigh as he snuggled deeper between her legs while the other gripped his hard cock as he rubbed it against her center in agonizingly slow motions.
He was doing everything in his power to show her he'd make it good for her, that he'd put in the effort—that he'd be gentle. So he continued to touch her softly, even though she was barely responsive.
And when he reached her lips, he laid a quick peck on her mouth before drawing back, ready to see the change in her features—ready to receive those words that had the power to save him.
Instead, the image stunned him.
She was utterly still, her icy glare cutting him on the inside.
"I don't love you," she enunciated clearly, her expression stoic, hard,apathetic."I should haveneverloved you," she declared, with one sentence shattering what was left of his heart, of his control, of everything that held him together.
In the beginning, there was only shock. But in a matter of seconds his armor was up.
Used to a life of disappointment, Michele's defense mechanisms had become one with himself. And she'd just thrown at him the biggest blow, so of course he'd erect the thickest shield.
Before, she'd made him feel human. Now, she took away the one thing that defined him as such.
His lips twitched. Slowly, they spread into a dangerous smile.
"Too bad, pet," he drawled. "Too, too bad," he rasped before he savagely thrust into her.
She gasped, her lips forming an o as her eyes widened, her hands coming on his shoulders to push him off. Yet before she could do that, something switched inside of her—in her expression, in her entire countenance.
Her hands fell to the sides, just as her body became limp in his arms.
Cupping her ass, his fingers dug into her flesh as he brought her down his length until he was buried to the hilt inside of her.
She didn't make a sound.
She didn't cry. She didn't yell. She didn't say anything. She didn't even fucking whimper in pain.
