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I’m hard in a second flat. In the back of my mind, I’m aware of the fact that my niece is sleeping at the end of the hallway. But Heidi is here to take care of her if she wakes up or asks for a glass of water. I haven’t had Sabella in too long. It’s only been what? A day? Two? It feels like a fucking month.
I strip off my clothes. I’m naked before I stop in front of her. My hand is in her hair and my cock in her mouth before she has time to gasp. I’m using her, muffling her sounds with my dick shoved down her throat, but that’s not how I want her.
I rip my cock from her lips and slam a hand over her mouth as I yank her up by her arm. She doesn’t protest as I march her to the bathroom. I close the door and turn the water on in the shower to drown out any noise we may make, but I don’t even make it to the point where the water runs strongly. I lock my hands around her waist and lift her onto the vanity. Bottles fall over and tubes roll off the edge.
Stepping between her legs, I grab the base of my cock and position the head at her slit. I watch as I slowly part and finally stretch her until her pussy has swallowed my length. When I thrust, I study her face. She’s so fucking beautiful, so perfect when she closes her eyes and bites her lip. She’s preventing me from seeing her pleasure and hearing her sounds, withholding those expressions like she’s refusing to say my name. So, I fuck her harder. I yank her ass to the edge of the counter and slam into her with enough force for her eyes to fly open and her breath to catch on a hitch.
“Say it,” I demand, sliding my cock over and over into her slick pussy.
She moans, but she doesn’t give me words.
Locking one hand on her hip, I wrap the other around her neck. “Say it.”
She refuses, even when I squeeze. Even when I pivot my hips faster.
A trickle of sweat rolls over my temple. “Say it, damn you.”
Her eyes go out of focus either from the lack of oxygen or from my rough fucking—maybe from both—and still, she refuses me. Her denial twists me up inside. Because I recall a time when she laid her hand on my cheek and whispered my name in her moment of pleasure. Because I lied when I said I didn’t care. Because I want that again so badly it aches with a physical pain in my chest. But just like she’d rather suffocate than say it, I’d sooner die than admit it.
All I can do is steal her ability to speak by crashing our mouths together. By taking away her speech, I pretend that I’m in control. I pretend I’m the one not giving her a choice.
I let her breathe as I kiss her, but I don’t take my hand off her throat. I keep her head pinned against the mirror and dip my free hand between our bodies. She’s balancing her weight on her arms, her upper body slightly bent backwards with her breasts pressed out and her legs wide open when she comes. I pull back to admire the view. Her back arches like a bow, every toned muscle pulled tight in a beautiful display of ecstasy.
Having taken care of her pleasure, I chase mine too. I batter her body with harsh, bitter thrusts until release finally comes. The climax doesn’t sate me. The need lingers. I can’t put a name to it. I only know shooting my load was powerful on a physical level yet unsatisfying on a deeper one.
Resting my forehead against hers, I catch my breath. I slide my hand from her neck to cup her breast. I drag my palm over her stomach and lower, joining the other that’s still caught between our bodies. I push her thighs apart before I pull out so that I can watch my cum leak from her pussy and run down her legs. She blushes, but she doesn’t fight me. She sags against the mirror, looking defeated and ravished.
How did we get to this point? Have we always been so angry, so depraved? Or is it just me?
Closing her legs, I lift her off the counter and put her on her feet. She doesn’t meet my gaze. She steps past me, opens the shower door, and gets into the cubicle. When she closes the glass door behind her, she vanishes in a thick billow of fog, the picture of her already fading. Always unobtainable. Always out of reach. Even with all the marks I’ve put on and inside her.
No matter.
She’s mine.
She’ll never escape that fate.
The thought does little to soothe me as I clean up at the basin, gather my clothes, and get dressed. When I say goodbye to Heidi in the kitchen, my features are schooled, my expression empty and my heart already cold.
Chapter
Nineteen
Sabella
* * *
The Eiffel Tower is a dazzling display of twinkling lights from the car window. The driver who fetched us at the airport is speeding along the Seine River. My husband sits next to me, engrossed in his phone. As always, he’s tense. The most relaxed I’ve seen him was with Sophie. I’m not even sure that was real. Maybe he was just pretending to put her at ease.
I steal a sidelong glance at his strong, handsome features. Angelo didn’t tell me our destination when we caught a flight in Bastia this morning. We landed in Marseille. The city brought back unpleasant memories. My husband left me under guard at the same hotel where we’d stayed on our wedding night. Then he disappeared to conduct business. He only came back for me after dark, whisking me to the airport again to board a national flight.
I didn’t expect to land in Paris. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I look through the window again. At night, the city is beautiful. I suspect it will be more breathtaking in the daylight, even in the starkness of winter with the plane trees stripped of their leaves. Or maybe especially because of that.
The driver drops us off at the Ritz where the cocktail party will take place. A bellboy takes our luggage and escorts us to one of the suites. Angelo tips him and locks the door when he’s gone.
“Hungry?” he asks, scrutinizing me with his dark eyes.
I walk to the window and draw back the curtains. “No.”
