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Ana has gotten into me. And I need to get her out.
He ripped Bella’s cornflower blue silk blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere. Below, her pale flesh and small tits underwhelmed him. What he really wanted was to see that light bronze skin and heaving rack that he’d just feasted his eyes upon in the basement.
Bella just wasn’t doing it for him.
He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth anyway, the feeling of her in his mouth completely disappointing. She hitched her skirt up higher and took his hand, guiding it between her legs.
He laughed and smacked her hand away. In that moment, he didn’t care about her pleasure. In that moment, she existed for his pleasure.
He wrenched her legs apart, pushing them as wide as they would go, and pushed her panties to the side, positioning himself at her entrance. She was already wet for him. Yeah, she liked this shit; the rougher he was, the more excited she got. They suited each other just fine.
He drove into her as hard as he could, enjoying the way her breath caught in her throat and how her eyes seemed to almost pop under the pressure of him inside her. As he set a steady rhythm, it felt good, but something wasn’t right. Apart from the obvious — she wasn’t the woman he was eager to fuck the life out of right now.
Her hands found his and suddenly she was guiding them to her neck. ‘Choke me, baby.’
He indulged her; as his large palms pressed around her throat, she started to thrust her hips up harder to match his rough strokes.
No matter what he did to this woman, it didn’t faze her. The more brutal he was, the faster she got off, and the more she wanted to go again five minutes later. She was unique. She was insatiable. But right now, she was dull.
He pushed harder. But still, it wasn’t enough.
Then he saw the pillow beside Bella’s head. He leaned over her pale body and took the pillow, pressing it over her face before she could protest.
Better.
She struggled beneath the pillow, but her strength was no match for his, and the pillow muffled her yells. Soon, she stopped struggling, and as he drove harder inside her, her yells turned to lust-filled — albeit muffled — moans. He pressed down on the pillow, not enough to render her unconscious, but enough to make her head spin in circles while he pretended she was somebody else.
Yes. That was much, much better. He picked up his pace, thrusting into her relentlessly, spurred on by Bella’s wildly enthusiastic response and the image of Mariana’s smooth bronze skin.
As she clenched tighter around him, Dornan lost it, shuddering violently as he came.
He withdrew, cleaning himself off with the towel as Bella rearranged her skirt and attempted to re-button her ruined shirt with the few buttons that still held onto the material.
He should have been satisfied, but he wasn’t. He needed more. He needed her.
‘That was fucking amazing,’ Bella said, stretching out on the bed. ‘You must have missed me, baby.’
He looked to the ceiling and bit his tongue; he hadn’t missed the insolent bitch one single bit.
‘Aren’t you late for a fuckin’ meeting?’ he asked, glaring at her. She pressed her lips together and kissed the air that separated them. ‘I love you too, baby,’ she cooed, sashaying out of the room with her ruined shirt clutched tight around her.
He shook his head. She was insane.
Thank fuck he wasn’t alone in that regard.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARIANA
I stared vacantly at the bandages on my wrists, and beside them, the shackles that pinned me to the wall. It struck me as hilarious that I now had deep cuts to both of my arms, especially when Emilio had asked his son to ensure I wasn’t marked. Why, I still wasn’t sure. I didn’t really care at this point. I was just tired and hungry and sore from being chained to the wall for so long. And I wanted to go home.
What a ridiculous thought. I was never going home.
The delirium was brought on by my hunger, I decided. Hunger and blood loss. I eyed my suitcase, wondering if there was something I could eat in there. Not that it mattered, since I was fastened to the wall. I wasn’t even indignant at the way Dornan had restrained me.
I mean, I had stabbed him.
I catalogued my diet over the past several days. I’d been told not to eat anything on my flights, convinced that I was a drug mule with cocaine pellets in my stomach. So, apart from the greasy burger and fries Murphy had so graciously bestowed upon me before cutting me loose with the Gypsy Brothers, I’d not had anything to eat in days.
