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Looking toward the clock, I tell him I need to leave shortly.
“That’s twenty minutes,” he states. “If you’re going to be around hot Hollywood actors tonight, I need you to be reminded that you belong to me.”
“You don’t have a jealous streak in you.”
His smile widens but disappears instantly.
“Baby, I got a jealous streak, all right. You may not see it, but trust me, it’s there.” His hands trace my collarbone until they have found their way to the crook of my neck, and with a tight grip, he warns me. “I’m going to play dirty now. You will be sore, you’ll feel my touch all over you every time you move. Don’t ask questions, Adriana. I’m going to do what I please, right here, right now.”
I don’t ask a single question, and for the next hour, he fucks me so hard my body writhes in pain, the agony and pleasure take me to imaginable places, submissive to his demands.
I know I’m late to the party and covered in red marks, but I don’t care.
He promised to make me sore.
He promised to be all over me.
I can’t move a single muscle.
And I can’t be any more content.
“I’m sorry I am late!” Bolting through the doorway and completely out of breath, I rest my hands on my knees on the verge of collapsing to the floor. Seriously, I need to hit the gym to keep up with Julian’s stamina.
Charlie stands in front of the mirror, dressed in a black silk robe with her hair and makeup done. Thank God she isn’t dressed yet.
“Adriana, since when are you ever late? I called you ten times.”
What’s my excuse? I had the whole drive over here to think about something, but no, my head was daydreaming like a lovesick fool freshly fucked by my boyfriend. Oh, that sounded really nice in my head.
“Just got caught up, okay?” I pull my dress out of the garment bag. It’s one of my newer creations, and one that I’ve worked on for months. The dress is tight-fitting and hugs my body sitting mid-thigh. My favorite part is the intricate lacing of the top layer covering from my collarbone down to my arms. The shade is electric crimson, much like my ass cheeks after a good slapping, and is sexy as hell.
I love how confident the dress makes me feel, or maybe it isn’t the dress, rather the most drop-dead gorgeous man to walk this earth telling you that you complete him.
“Love the dress. That shade is gorgeous.” Charlie runs her fingers along my arm, admiring the lace. “So, where were you?”
“I need to shower,” I tell her.
“No time for a shower.” She makes me sit down on the vanity stool and starts working on my hair.
I squirm uncomfortably. My ass is sore as are my thighs, my arms, and every part of me.
“You smell like sex,” Charlie says flatly.
“What?” I yell out loud. “Well, so do you.”
“Most likely. My husband gave me a good pounding, a much-needed one.”
I cringe, screwing my face in discontent. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t need that kind of information?”
“You said I smelled like sex. I’m just confirming your suspicions. Now back to you. C’mon, Adriana, why won’t you tell me who it is?”
I remain silent as she styles my hair. Not giving her a response just yet, I wait until she is
done. Giving her the nod of approval, I inch closer to the vanity and start working on my makeup.
“Are you being safe at least?” she questions me further.
I feel stupid for forgetting to bring it up. It’s just, I get lost in the moment, and any rational decision flies so fast out the window with no hope of coming back.
