“Zoe,” he says into my mouth, his voice drenched in arousal.
I can only cling to him as he lets me get used to the feeling for a moment before increasing his pace. He releases my mouth and pulls away to look at my face. Pushing up on one arm, he slips a hand between our bodies. When his fingers find my clit, the pleasure of earlier returns, the need I’m now familiar with rising above the hurt and somehow diminishing the pain.
“That’s my girl,” he says.
I don’t want to touch him, but as the pleasure climbs, and I’m spiraling out of control I need to hold onto something. My arms go around him of their own accord, finding an anchor in his strong body.
He starts moving faster, and my body follows instinctively. He groans when I wrap my legs around him in an automatic move to hold on. The pain is still there, but I don’t register it any longer. I only feel the tension of the building release I need like food or water. I’m almost at the crescendo when he pulls out of me violently. I cry out in discomfort.
Reaching over me for the nightstand drawer, he takes out a condom, and tears the packet open with his teeth. I can’t believe I didn’t think about protection in my haze of lust. When he sits back on his heels to fit the condom, I look at his cock. He’s covered in my blood and arousal. The sheets are a mess. My cheeks heat in shame of how badly I want him to finish this, how badly I need this from a man I hate.
After rolling on the condom, he pushes back inside me. A perverse part of me mourns the loss of his naked skin and resents the new barrier. Then all thoughts fly from my head as he pushes deep and slides almost all the way out before burying deep again. The movement strokes over nerve endings, adding new pleasure to the familiar. He massages my clit in slow circles as he takes me with an increasingly demanding pace. Only when my body starts to tighten and the pleasure reaches a new height does he lose his control.
He moves harder, chasing his own release faster. I moan, the sounds coming from my mouth belonging to a wanton woman. When my orgasm explodes, he throws back his head on a low groan, driving himself as deep into me as he can. His body hardens, his muscles growing taught under my palms. I can feel the knots and grooves of the maleness that defines his back under his shirt. He drops his head next to mine, breathing hard.
Turning his face a fraction, he plants a soft kiss on my temple. “You’ll be my destruction.”
I sag back, letting the mattress absorb my weight.
He’s already my destruction.
I’m no longer the woman I used to be.
I can never go back to how things were.
Chapter 11
Zoe
When Maxime rolls off me, I push up onto my arms. My thighs are covered in blood, much more than I expected there’d be. The sheets are soiled. Traces of my lost virginity mark the white fabric of Maxime’s shirt. He scans my face as he removes the condom. I need to escape that piercing stare. The invasion of my body was enough. I don’t want him digging through my feelings.
He gets up and walks to the bathroom. The moment the door closes, I’m on my feet. I have to escape this bed. I want to run, but the lounge is as far as I can go. The ache between my legs is persistent, an unpleasant reminder of my new reality.
I go straight to the wet bar and pour myself a whiskey. I’m not a big drinker, and I’ve never had whiskey, but I down the shot in one go. It steals my breath, burning all the way to my stomach. Spotting the packet of cigarettes next to the decanter, I snatch it up with the lighter and look around the room for something to wear. I’m not going back to the bedroom. Not yet. My gaze falls on the clotheshorse with Maxime’s tux jacket. I don’t give it a second thought. I pull the jacket on and push the sliding door wide open, not caring that the cold blasts inside or that my body feels frozen the minute I step barefoot onto the terrace.
I light a cigarette and inhale deeply. My gaze is trained on the beautiful view, the reflection of the streetlights in the water, but I don’t really see it. My thoughts are trained inward. They’re turbulent. How do I reconcile the woman I became in that bed with the one I used to be? How could I find pleasure at the hands of a man I loathe? Because he was gentle? A good lover? Considerate? Because he did everything right?