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CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
MARIANA
Dornan got back to the apartment late. I’d stayed up, drinking strong coffee, on the small chance he was returning.
Yeah. I was pathetic.
But his presence was so fleeting, so addictive, that I would do anything to make sure I didn’t miss him. My ears were attuned to his footsteps, my skin to his touch. We were the dirtiest, most forbidden secret of them all.
And I loved it.
Desperation and loneliness fed the overwhelming desire inside me.
He took care of me. Made sure I ate, made sure I slept. Made my existence vastly less painful when he was in it.
He was a bad man, the worst there was.
But my heart, that treacherous thing inside my chest that sped up whenever he was around?
It wanted to betray me.
I was falling in love with a monster.
And somehow, in this new life of mine, where the old rules didn’t count and power was measured in blood and bullets?
I didn’t care.
Sex. It was the only thing that made me feel, the only thing that broke up my otherwise sad and lonely existence. And yet, I hated it every time he made me come. Hated myself. In the moment, I’d cry out in exquisite agony, as he fucked me or licked me or fingered me to the point of no return. But then afterwards, after he’d come inside me — it always had to be in me or on me somehow, marking me as his — we’d lie side by side, catching our breath, and guilt and despair would tear my soul apart piece by broken piece.
I heard the beeps of someone pressing the pin code into the keypad outside, and then a click as the front door lock disengaged. A slight creak and the door opened; another, and it closed, revealing the man who had come to consume my every thought.
I leaned forward against the kitchen counter. The travel magazine in front of me was all but forgotten as I watched my dark lover approach.
He dropped his helmet on the tiles, just like he always did. It bounced once and rolled into the corner, forgotten, as Dornan Ross moved down the dimly lit hallway towards me. He moved like a predator, that possessive lust in his black eyes that had once been a glimmer, now a forest fire that threatened to consume us both. He was drenched from the rain that had been falling all evening, a rain that still wasn’t taking the heat away. It made me feel like I was back in sticky, humid Colombia.
He was wearing new clothes. A tight black tee that hugged his defined arms, black jeans and his leather cut. Dressed all in black, he looked like the sexiest motherfucking Grim Reaper I could imagine.
He grinned as he approached me. I started to turn, to greet him, but his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling my ass firmly into his erection. Butterflies swirled in my stomach as he lifted up the bottom of my black silk nightgown, gathering the material in his hands until my panties and lower back were exposed. He squeezed his hands around my hips, rocking his hardness against me, only our clothes separating our bodies.
He reached one hand around to the front of my panties and dipped his fingers in. I shuddered as soon as his fingers brushed against me, it was so powerful.
‘I got back as quickly as I could,’ he murmured in my ear as he continued to graze his fingers along my wetness. I was breathing fast, panting under his touch. I wanted more. I wanted it all.
‘You’re so wet,’ he whispered.
There was something very wrong with me. Something dark had blossomed inside me, spreading like a cancer that obliterated everything else within. In the moments when his hands were rough against my skin, as he bent me to his own desires, I existed because of him. I existed only for him.
‘Do you want me?’ he asked. I nodded.
He fisted one hand in my hair and yanked; not enough to hurt, but enough to make me take notice. ‘Say it,’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ I whispered, writhing against him. ‘Yes, I want you.’
Palms flat on the counter, I couldn’t see what was happening. I could only feel as my panties were yanked down to my ankles, a knee between my legs forcing them wider apart.
Then he pushed inside me, the friction and the pressure enough to make me gasp. My nightgown still up around my waist, he dug his fingers into my skin hard enough to leave bruises as he began to move inside me. He was rough, he was fast, and it was exactly what I needed.
‘Fuck!’ I cried, as he slid deeper inside me. It felt like each stroke erased a part of me and replaced it with something new. Something dark.
