Rebellion (A Dangerous Man 2)

I stare at his back. Somewhere inside, I still had hope, that maybe he would tell me that he loved me and make me stay with him. “You don’t love me do you?” I accuse, shaking my head and feeling all my childish dreams and expectations crumbling around my feet. How could I have thought, even for one moment that he could love me? I am just a means to an end, and he has used me because that’s what he does, he uses people. Carole was right.

He turns back towards me. “Love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be Sophie.” His voice is almost gentle, “other people would take what they have and be grateful for it.”

Maybe he meant for his words to comfort me, but I feel as if he has just crushed the last of my hopes.

“And what do I have?” I turn back to him. “Tell me the truth David. Why did you marry me?”

His silence tells me what I need to know. I turn away from him, back to my bags on the bed. I’m not looking at him, so I’m not expecting it when he takes hold of my arm.

I turn around and stare up at him, breathing deeply. He looks determined, and I wonder, filled with hope and dread, what he is going to say. He moves closer to me and puts a hand on my cheek, stroking it slowly. I wait, confused. His hand moves down to my neck, and then to my shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine. Despite myself, I stare at him hypnotized.

As his fingers run down my arm, I can’t prevent the shiver that runs through my body.

He notices, “Because of that.” He says. His expression doesn’t change, but his fingers continue their journey, lightly skimming over my body as I stand in front of him.

When my whole body is shivering and aching for him, he leans in closer and whispers in my ear. “Because of this, Sophie. This is what we have between us.”

“This is only sex.” I whisper helplessly, sadness and sexual arousal fighting for supremacy. “We have nothing.”

His fingers skim lightly over a nipple. As I shudder in pleasure, he smiles. “Is this nothing, Sophie?” He has the voice of the devil, tempting and persuasive. I want to throw aside everything I know to be true, and allow him to make love to me.

He leans forwards and whispers in my ear, arousing me with his warm breath on my nape. “Don’t you want this Sophie?” Don’t you want me to touch you? To make love to you, over and over again?” his lips make a trail from my neck to my shoulder. “Isn’t it enough?”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No.”

“Don’t lie to yourself? Sophie, what else is ther

e?” His hand slide down over my dress and pull down the zip, making it fall to the ground. His hands skim up over my waist and toward my breasts. He stops just shy of touching them, teasing me.

I look up at him, my eyes pleading. I don’t know what I want anymore. I want him to love me, but I also want him to keep touching me, more than anything. My breasts are heavy and straining through my bra. My breath is coming in short gasps.

“What do you want Sophie?”

His fingers move upwards, skimming the lower curve of my breasts. I moan softly.

He cups my breasts, squeezing them until my whole body is aching with desire.

“Isn’t this enough?’ he asks again, I shake my head.

He sighs and undoes my bra, freeing my breasts. I feel exposed, yet full of expectation. I want this. I want him, despite everything.

He starts to take off his clothes, I stand transfixed as he removes his jacket and tie, his shirt, then his pants. By the time he’s totally naked, I’m shaking with arousal, hungry for him.

He guides my hand to his hard length. I touch him, glorying in the stiffness. He wants me as much as I want him. Stroking him, I get down on my knees, trying to pleasure him with my hands and my mouth. Muttering an oath, he pulls me up, turns me around, and bends me over the bed. He starts to stroke me through my panties, and in moments, I’m burning for him. He doesn’t make any move to end my torment. His fingers continue to stroke me until my panties are soaked.

“Please.” I beg him brokenly. “Please David.”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice torments me.

“Please.”

“Tell me.”

“I want you.” I cry, grinding my hips against his fingers.

“You want what?”

“I want you to make love to me, David, please.”