The Boss (Chateau 3)

“I’m alone in my room all day, have no one to talk to, your butler hates me…” She crossed her legs then wrapped her arms around her shoulders, her hands gently rubbing her skin, as if she were cold. Her eyes wandered out the window for a brief moment before they came back to me.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

A quiet, sarcastic chuckle escaped her lips.

“He just expects the best at all times. That’s why I hired him.”

Her arms went still as she gazed at me, looking me deep in the eye the way she did when we were naked and sweaty. She’d tried to run from me, but my hook was in her flesh, and she was permanently attached to me by an invisible line. Despite our differences, our ideologies, our morals, she couldn’t deny the all-consuming connection between us. If that weren’t the case, she wouldn’t come to me at all. “This is worse than the camp. At least I could go outside…”

“You can go outside.”

She released a quiet sigh then looked away.

I studied her accentuated cheekbone, her almond-shaped eyes, the way her hair shone like the snow in direct sunlight. There were evenings when I could stare at a painting for hours. She was a painting I could stare at for a lifetime. “I promised you gowns and diamonds. I promised you a butler, albeit one with attitude. I promised you gourmet meals, a palace—”

“And you promised me you.” She finally spat it out, her expression tightening in a stark look of self-loathing. Her eyes immediately dropped in shame as she swallowed, her throat shifting slightly at her actions.

A small smile moved on to my lips.

She kept her eyes down for a long time. Her thick eyelashes stretched down her cheeks. Her plump lips were pressed tightly together, trying to suppress the words that had already flown out of her mouth.

“You want me, chérie?”

Her chin quickly lifted when she heard her nickname. The satin of her gown tightened and shone differently every time she took a breath, and that shine appeared more often because her breathing had quickened. The brilliance in her eyes had disappeared, and now she was vulnerable, a meal for the taking.

One of my hands enveloped the other, sheathing my knuckles. The smile was gone, my eyes ripping that dress to shreds. She was mine even when I didn’t touch her. She was mine whether I was right beside her or hundreds of miles away. I’d claimed this woman as mine, and she needed to be reminded that I hadn’t claimed her by force—but acceptance. “Then don’t cross me again.”

“I—”

“Don’t. Cross. Me.”

Her nightgown was a small bundle over her stomach. The straps had fallen down her arms and revealed her tits, and I shoved the material over her hips when I got her on her back, my hips between her thighs, my arms pinned behind her knees. I pushed her into my sheets, fucked her hard like a whore, slamming my wooden headboard into the wall and scraping the wallpaper.

It didn’t matter how hard I gave it to her. She always took it. She was always wet. She winced in pain sometimes but never complained once. Her nails anchored into my flesh and held on, making me bleed whenever she came, and the tears that streaked from her eyes to her ears made her makeup run.

She handled my size like she was paid to enjoy it. Her hand cupped my cheek, and she kissed me, tasted the sweat that dripped from my forehead to my jaw, gave me her tongue as she moaned into my mouth. The cuts on my back burned when the sweat poured in, but the pain got me off because of the woman who inflicted it.

I could have her any way I wished, but I was so eager to fuck her every time I looked at her that this always happened. I got between her legs and looked at her face as I conquered her, like I was bedding a queen after I’d killed her king—and she liked it. My eyes drank in her appearance, watched the tears streak every time she came, watched her lips tremble before the uncontrollable moans rose to my ceiling. I watched her open like a flower, drop her walls, and give me her complete vulnerability. When we were together like this, the camp didn’t exist. Her sister didn’t exist. We were just a man and a woman, burning in each other’s fire, scarring our skin with third-degree burns that we didn’t even feel in the moment.

I came inside her for the final time, my ass tightening as I shoved myself completely within her, my spine tingling when I dropped another load inside her body. Skin-to-skin with her, it felt like pleasure in its purest form, the ecstasy that could only be created when there was nothing between us.