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Drake freed his cock from the confines of his boxers and slid dryly between her cheeks. His scorching velvet branded her as he rocked against her. A piteous wail escaped Alessandra’s throat. She was dripping with desire in the most intense sexual encounter of her life.
His strong hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing gently, testing her limits. It was too much stimulation, but at the same time, not enough. Drake was setting his expectations, and she was along for the ride.
“Do you like that, bella?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
“Yes, sir.”
They became lost in the sensations, two writhing bodies against the counter. Pain and pleasure signals pushed Alessandra closer to the edge. But the angle Drake pinned her kept her from using the ledge to achieve the orgasm she was desperate to reach.
“Please, Drake… please… I need….” she begged, needing more.
Drake suddenly recoiled. “Merda!What am I doing?”
He quickly shifted his boxers back into place and left the kitchen, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Breathless and needy, Alessandra collapsed against the countertop. Her ass stung from his treatment, and her hips were bruised from the lip of the counter.
Alessandra attempted to compose herself and swallow the shame of being abandoned half-naked in the kitchen. She grabbed the shredded panties and bid them farewell before throwing them in the garbage. Her self-worth fluttered to the bottom of the empty bag along with the lace.
Alessandra showered again in a vain attempt to scrub Drake’s woodsy scent from her skin. The warm spray trickled down her chest and over her painfully pebbled nipples. Her fingers slipped between her legs and circled her swollen clit that had been left neglected.
Drake’s dirty and commanding words echoed in her ears. His rough treatment and control over her pleasure brought her dangerously close to the edge and made her itchy. The hunger in his eyes mirrored her own desire. She still felt the heat where Drake’s thick, long, hot cock exuded pre-cum against her ass crack.
She pushed past her disappointment and fantasized about what might’ve happened if Drake hadn’t pulled away. Alessandra’s breath quickened as her fingers moved faster and pressed harder. It wasn’t long before the wave of orgasm had her bracing herself on the cold tile wall to remain standing, biting her lip to muffle her ecstasy.
Imposter syndrome hit her hard. She had taken someone else’s fiancé and wedding. Now she stood in another woman’s closet searching through her clothes because she only had a wedding dress. Finally, she found a simple blouse and wrap skirt that fit.
Alessandra was thrown by the sight of Drake drinking a cup of coffee in frayed dark-wash jeans and a gray T-shirt. The shirt fit him like a second skin, allowing every muscular bulge to remain on display. He always looked handsome in his expensive tailored suits in court, but relaxed Drake took her breath away.
“Glad you found something,” he said, barely looking at her.
Alessandra smoothed down the skirt. “Thank you.”
Alessandra reached for the coffee pot, but the click of Drake’s tongue made her pause. The disapproving gaze in his eye was all too familiar, as she had seen it in all the other important men in her life. Her heart shriveled as the air became rife with tension. They sized each other up like feral cats, ready to pounce if the other suddenly moved.
There was nothing else to do but accept defeat. Alessandra knew where she wasn’t wanted, whether it be in her childhood home or her husband’s penthouse. Determined to catch a cab and not return, she moved toward the door. Drake must’ve sensed her flight response and halted her by raising his hand.
“I’m off today, so I thought I could help you move your stuff in.”
“Excuse me?” His offer threw Alessandra.
“Since we’re stuck together, we can use the time productively and figure a way out of this mess.” Drake dumped the remainder of his coffee down the drain and rinsed the mug before setting it in the dishwasher.
“Oh.” She was crestfallen.
Every time Drake offered a kernel, she foolishly got her hopes up. When he immediately snatched it away, she was left with egg on her face. He saw her as the enemy, and she was ready to settle for an amicable relationship.
“Just let me get my keys. I’ll drive.”
They rode the private elevator down to the basement garage, and Drake hit the unlock button from his keys. The lights of a red Corvette Stingray Z51 flashed with a subtle lock pop. Alessandra would’ve thought he was compensating for something with a flashy car, but having felt the strength of his erection an hour before, she knew that wasn’t the case.
It was easy to dismiss the designer labels as Drake dressed well for court. Even Jenny, the Russo family attorney—acting as her brother’s criminal defense lawyer—spent thousands on a single outfit for court. But now, having been to his penthouse and sliding into the leather interior of the brand-new car that cost somewhere from sixty to eighty thousand dollars, it was clear Drake came from money. Alessandra wondered if she would ever truly know who Drake Walker was.
Alessandra put her home address into the car’s navigation system. She had to remind herself it wasn’t home anymore. It was her father’s house now. It was always his, just like everything inside of it. Just like her, until he’d decided it was time to sell her off.
“You’re practically right around the corner,” Drake mentioned.
“Lucky me,” she mumbled as he pulled onto the city street.
***
