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What would he do if I said I didn’t want this?
‘Stop,’ I said, pushing his hands away. He gave me an odd look, his cock in his palm, the blunt tip glistening with pre-come. We regarded each other silently, my hips arching of their own accord as he slid his free hand up the inside of my thigh and slipped a finger inside me.
‘That doesn’t feel like stop to me,’ he murmured hoarsely, lowering himself, my eyes glued to the bruises blossoming on his neck. John’s hands had made fine work of Dornan’s flesh, before they’d made fine work of mine.
‘Fuck,’ Dornan groaned, pushing inside me so tenderly, it was as if he were another person. He’d never been gentle with me, not once in ten years, and I hadn’t asked him to be. But something had possessed him. He rocked his hips against mine, slow and soft, his cock stretching the bruised parts of me that John had been anything butgentlewith when he fucked me against a bathroom sink in a diner not three hours earlier. I cried out when he touched the spaces inside me that John had already punished. It hurt. I liked that it hurt. Above me, moving faster, it was clear that Dornan liked my pain, too.
We’d been together ten years, Dornan and I, and I can safely say that this was the first – and last – time we’d ever made love.
It was tragic. He was trying to start anew, a fresh beginning, and I was opening, yielding my flesh to him one last time to say goodbye to the man who saved me all those years ago.
And neither of us was brave enough to admit what we were doing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DORNAN
The ring had been burning a hole in his pocket since he’d gone home to get it that afternoon. At the same time, one singular thought had burned in his head.
Had the woman he loved turned her loyalties against him?
It had gone something like this: His father had given his macabre version of a blessing to a Dornan-Mariana marriage, as well as a warning about where her allegiances might lie; Dornan had walked out of the meeting, and straight out onto Venice Boulevard. He didn’t pass go. He didn’t collect two hundred dollars. All he did was get on his motorcycle, speed home and find the ring his grandmother had left to him when she died.
He’d considered asking her properly if she’d marry him, butwhat if she said no?
She hated him for what he’d done. For everything. And he couldn’t even blame her, because she was right to hate him. To fear him.
None of that mattered, though. She was his. She would always be his. Since the moment he’d laid eyes on her in that motel room in San Diego, he’d known.
Ten years. She’d be fine. She’d be happy again.
Was she fucking somebody else?
‘Pack a bag,’ Dornan called into the bedroom.
Mariana appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing except panties and a confused look on her face. Her hair was wild, from where he’d ground her into the bed, and her nipples still glistened from where his mouth had just been.
Dornan groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. His dick hurt at the thought of fucking her again, yet, of its own accord, it stirred to life once more. She was the only woman in the world capable of killing him via sex. She’d literally suck the life out of him if he wasn’t careful. He could fuck her all day, every day, and still the itch would not be scratched away.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Can you please put some fucking clothes on,’ Dornan asked, squeezing his cock through his jeans. His clothes were already in the trunk of the car that waited for them downstairs – one small bag and a pair of shoes, enough for a quick jaunt out of LA.
Mariana raised one eyebrow, her lips tugging upward in the closest thing he’d seen to a smile in a while. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me before,’ she said, leaning against the doorframe that led to the bedroom.
In the hallway, Dornan slipped his boots on, then his leather jacket. His fingers smelled like sex, and that was okay with him. There would be a lot more sex where they were headed.
Was she fucking somebody else?
‘Where are we going?’ Mariana called from the bedroom. ‘I’m kind of tired. Can we just stay here?’
No. They could not just stay here.Fuck.
Dornan strode back into the bedroom to see Mariana on her back in the centre of the bed, again, with nothing on except those damn lace panties that left nothing to the imagination. Her legs were parted enough that he could see her pussy through the fine material.
Who else had seen her like this?
Without thinking, he yanked the edge of the comforter up and threw it over her, so she was sandwiched like a burrito.
