Trust Me (Rough Love 3)

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Fuck.”

He turned back to his tablet. I took that Fuck as the end of our conversation and started to eat. It made me happy that he got angry at the idea of sharing me, even if he wouldn’t quite take my hand. Price almost never said he loved me, but there were moments like these when the depth of his love revealed itself to me like the sun from behind a gray, dark cloud.

Price got a call on his phone and muted it, then looked up at me.

“Are you excited to go to Paris?” he asked.

I swallowed a mouthful of omelet. “I’ve been there before.”

I could have kicked myself for saying that, because the one time I’d gone to Paris I’d been with Simon, and my abusive ex-boyfriend was Price’s least favorite person in the world.

“I’m excited to go again,” I said, staring at my plate. “I’m older now. I’ll be seeing it through different eyes.”

“There are a world of things for a designer to enjoy in Paris.”

There was the nudge. Paris was going to be a working holiday for us both. He’d be attending meetings at the International Symposium of Architects, and I’d be expected to go out and enrich myself.

“I wish I spoke French like you,” I said.

He shrugged. “Most people there will understand English if you get in a bind. I’ll give you a list of places to visit, and hire you a driver for the week.”

Life was so simple when you had jillions of dollars. He was so rich, so capable. So demanding. So controlling. I touched his poem and slid him a look. He was staring back with his pale blue eyes that seemed to capture everything.

It’s okay, I told myself. Don’t worry. Everything’s perfectly okay.

* * * * *

The long trip over the ocean seemed shorter with Chere along for the ride. She sat beside me in first class, sipping wine, crossing her legs every so often just to drive me insane.

We were alone this time, unlike our previous trip across the ocean to Oslo. No associates to entertain, no lustful glances to disguise as simple attention. As soon as we arrived, I took her to the downtown hotel where the conference was being held. The plane ride was foreplay. I wanted to fuck and I wanted to fuck hard. It took all my self-control to endure the obsequious welcome from the ritzy hotel’s staff.

Chere, on the other hand, had stars in her eyes, so I put up with it for her, when I might otherwise have cut the welcome short. I’d grown up in a life of privilege. Chere had grown up under much grimmer circumstances, and I tried to remember that at times like these. She took my hand in the elevator and squeezed it. So much glass, so much sparkle, so much rich color and plush Turkish carpets and ornate, glistening chandeliers.

“Okay?” I asked.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered. “Wow. It’s amazing.”

I’d been with so many women who put on an act, who pretended to be swept away, but were, in reality, avaricious bitches. Chere wasn’t an avaricious bitch. She was heart and soul and everything, and she was mine as long as I managed to hold on to her. I had her collar in my luggage, but our thing was about more than collars and protocols.

When we were finally alone in the room, I didn’t wait to unpack her collar. I shoved her up against the wall and swallowed her shocked little unh with a violent kiss.

“You like it here?” I whispered.

I’d barely given her time to look around the room, but it was a classic luxury hotel room, corner, upper floor. I undressed her, being too careless and too rough. I felt something rip, but she didn’t stop me or complain. We’d have it repaired later. I needed to be inside her. She tugged at my buttons, helping me take off my shirt. I yanked down my pants and pressed her to the wall with my aching, erect cock trapped between us.

She made excited little sounds, struggling against me. I reached for her neck and gripped it hard, and almost, almost choked her out, but this wasn’t the place to do it, where she might fall and hurt herself. With a frustrated growl, I released her neck and dragged her toward the bed.

She fought in earnest now. I mean, anyone would fight in her position, with some brute trying to take away her air, especially when that brute was responsible for the lingering bruises on her ass and legs. She pulled away from me and tried to crawl across the bed. I fell on top of her and wrestled her onto her back.

“You’re mine,” I said, grabbing her neck again. “Submit.”

She shook her head, holding my gaze. She wasn’t disputing that she was mine; if she could have talked, she would have agreed with me. No, she just didn’t want me to choke her. Her fingers clawed at my chest. With my other hand, I yanked one of her legs up and positioned myself between her thighs. If she really didn’t want me to choke her, she should have laid still. Her squirming and panic inflamed my deepest lusts. I kissed her full lips and thrust into her wet, clenching pussy, never releasing my grip on her neck.