“Ow …” she cried.
It made my heart hurt to see her like that.
“Fuck,” she cursed, her hands flailing around on the floor.
My heart lurched when I saw the broken glass pieces that surrounded her. She was going to fucking hurt herself. I went to her, but at my approach she immediately began to try to scramble up to her feet. I caught her in my arms and despite her swearing and thrashing, threw her over my shoulder and moved her away from the hazardous glass shards on the lounge floor.
I set her on her feet a distance away, and of course, she proceeded to attack me. Tonight she was out for blood. She fought with me with the techniques she’d been taught from her father’s best fighters and they were not a joke. She was too drunk to even stand properly, but she was more than a handful. Even though she was small, she had the technique and strength of some of the better men I’d combatted with. While that was impressive it was time to end the skirmish.
I tripped her up, caught her falling body, and slammed her against the wall. The breath was knocked out of her and I hoped it would cause just enough pain to calm down, but when that didn’t do a blind bit of good, I slammed my body against her and imprisoned her tightly against the wall.
She was heaving and panting, but so was I, our chests rising and falling to meet the rhythm of our breathing,
“Let me go!” she gasped.
“Freya,” I said. “You need to calm down or else you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You’re the one who’s hurting me,” she shouted, and the tears began rolling down her eyes.
I stilled.
“Do you know how fucking hard it is?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Do you know how fucking hard it has been? I wanted a different life. My own life.” She sobbed. “I was all alone, but I found help, and you took it away. How the fuck am I supposed to keep going now?”
I couldn’t speak. Her pain did something strange to me. It wrenched my heart.
Suddenly she began to laugh bitterly. “You offered me money earlier,” she said. “That’s more than enough for a looooong while.” She leaned forward to whisper into my ear. “I’d rather take that than a dime from my father. I will never let him own me.”
“I have another secret,” she said and then leaned so close, her lips touched the side of my neck. I felt my cock harden when she whispered against my skin. “I’m going to enjoy earning that money from you. A million you said? You can fuck me in every way that you want, Maxim Ivanov. I’ll enjoy it because… even though I hate you… hate you so much… for some reason… I want to fuck you so bad my pussy is throbbing for you. I’ll make sure I get as much out of this sick need as I can. While you’ll get nothing more than a memory that you will never have the chance to relive again.”
I looked at her twisted face, and felt such hurt for this woman before me. She appeared so strong to the world, but was so fragile. If only she knew that nothing she could request from me would be worth more than having her… even if I would only get to experience it once. I would near do anything for it.
Before I could stop myself, I moved and crushed my lips to hers… and I was lost.
I was already painfully aroused from our tussle, but as I drew her taste into my mouth, I felt everything inside of me begin to unravel.
She fought me, her teeth biting down on my lips. I felt pain and tasted blood, but I couldn’t stop.
It intertwined with the taste of us, raw, and vicious, and sickly sweet.
It melted her, and I couldn’t help the primal feeling of satisfaction that flowed through my body. I let go of her arms and she threw them around me. She slanted her head and shoved her tongue into my mouth. I relished the urgent, intoxicating assault.
Our kiss was hard, and almost vindictive in its intensity. It was mind blowing. I grabbed her ass, lifting both her feet clear of the floor and I ground her crotch into the thickened swell of mine. The thrill of being able to do that to her was exhilarating, incredible.
Never in my life had I lusted over or needed someone the way I did her. I almost couldn’t breathe as I ravaged her with everything I had. The frustrations of the enmity between us seemed to fan the fire even more fiercely. My hands went to the button on her jeans. It melted away, her zip flowed down like a knife through butter. I could already smell her arousal. I was like a man possessed.