“Only because you asked nicely,” I say, and this time, when I feel her legs start to tremble, I am relentless, not releasing her clit even as her sweet juices coat my chin.
It isn’t until I feel her legs go weak that I stand and unzip my pants. My dick is so hard it’s almost painful, begging to be sheathed inside of her. I unroll the condom over my hard length and step forward, but she stops me.
“Wait,” she says. “Take off your clothes.”
I look down at myself, still in my open pants and white dress shirt.
Seeing my hesitation, she adds, “Please.”
She just wants me to be as vulnerable and as exposed as she is. Even knowing this, I give in, quickly unbuttoning my shirt and stepping out of my shoes, socks, and pants until I’m completely naked. My cock points straight at her, leading me like an arrow.
I crash back into her, palming her ass and lifting her feet off the floor.
“Wrap your legs around me,” I instruct her.
She does, and my cock slides along her warm, wet slit as she wedges her heels against my ass and pushes me against her. I pause and press my forehead to hers, trying to compose myself and failing miserably. With one upward thrust, I’m inside of her. She cries out. The chains jerk against the bed and the wood groans as the small muscles in her arms flex, pulling against her bindings.
I pull out and slam back inside her, my fingers digging into her hips to keep her in place. Her legs tighten around me and she leans back as far as her arms will let her, thrusting her breasts up at me. I take one nipple in my mouth, teasing the tight bud with my teeth, as I pump in and out of her. I am brutal. Unforgiving. A monster.
But then her head rolls forward and her wide, innocent eyes find mine. Her cheeks are red and her lips are wet with saliva.
“Andy,” she gasps.
And suddenly that’s who I am, because to her, that’s who I’ve always been. No matter how awful I was, in her eyes, I was never the bully or the monster. I was her friend. Her lover. I was Andy. Now, sheathed inside her, that’s who I want to be again.
“Val,” I whisper, saying her name aloud for the first time in years.
I move my hands to her face, cup her cheeks, and capture her mouth with mine. Our tongues mingle, and we breathe against each other as I slow my pace, savoring the tight sensation of her. She grinds her hips against me, searching for that pressure against her clit. I oblige, dipping my hand between us and pressing my thumb against it. When she comes this time, I swallow her cries with my mouth. Her pulsing muscles pull me to the edge of my own climax, and with a few more thrusts, I plunge over the cliff into a sea of ecstasy.
We pant against each other, and she peppers my face in small, happy kisses. I close my eyes, savoring them. She makes me feel safe. Happy. Vulnerable. Loved.
She makes me feel.
And I don’t like that.
I don’t need that.
Reaching up, I unclasp one of her arms, then the other. She falls back on the bed, rubbing her wrists. I think she expects me to join her, but instead, I push away from her. Without her around me, I feel cold and empty—which is how it should be. Turning, I dispose of the condom and start to dress.
She pushes up on one elbow and looks at me. Her smile tugs at something hidden inside of me, so I make it a point not to look at her.
“Are you leaving?” she asks.
I don’t answer, shaking out my shirt and sliding it onto my arms.
She sits up. “Andy?”
Maintaining my silence, I don’t even sit to put on my shoes, instead stuffing my socks into my pockets and sliding on my shoes without bothering to tie them. It feels like I’m racing against something, but I don’t know what.
I check my pockets for my wallet and my phone, and then move toward the door.
“What am I supposed to wear?” she asks my back. “How am I supposed to get home?”
I think this is the most upset I’ve ever heard her. I pause and turn to smirk at her over my shoulder. “Like always, you expect me to just hand everything to you. Consider yourself lucky that I even set you free.”
Then, I turn and leave, walking quickly to the elevator before I can change my mind. She has power over me and she doesn’t even know it. Worse than my father.
As I picture her naked and fuming in that four-poster bed, all I can think about is how I really fucked it up this time. There’s no going back from this. So why, when that was exactly what I wanted, do I feel like such a piece of shit?
♦ ♦ ♦
That night, I can’t sleep, which is new for me. Usually, I sleep like a baby, unaffected by the day’s events, but even I feel awful about running out and leaving Valya at the club. How did she get out? How did she get home? I don’t have the right to know the answers, but they eat away at me as the clock ticks on toward morning.
And the sex…I can’t get it out of my head. We showed each other such trust, such vulnerability, and it felt good. It was a relief to let my shields down. But it definitely wasn’t what I expected. I’d expected to dominate her and scare her away with all the things I was capable of doing to her. Instead, she’d done that to me, entirely unintentionally.
The only thing that keeps me from picking up the phone and calling her is the fact that my dad would beat my ass for being such a pussy. He’s dead, and was a total asshole when he was alive, but he made me who I am—successful, hard, a king. It’s served me well.
So, I’m still awake, tossing and turning, when the text comes in from Valya’s dad early the next morning. They want me to come do a walk-through at the estate to see the progress and answer questions. Glad for the distraction, I dress and get on the road at the crack of dawn.
I assume I’ll beat everyone there, but the cleaning van and, to my surprise, Valya’s little Kia, are already in the driveway when I pull up. Steeling myself, I make my way into the foyer where I’m greeted by a group of indistinguishable people in polo shirts and khakis. It smells like bleach, and it suddenly occurs to me that this isn’t the same place it was just a few weeks ago, when my dad haunted these halls. It’s been wiped clean. Could I be, too?
While Peter greets me genially, Valya gives no such pretense, nodding at me curtly and following her father through the house. It bothers me, but what did I expect?
I know what I expected.
I expected it to be like every other time, when I would treat her like shit and then she would show up at school the next day with a small, empty smile on her face. Always pleasant. Always trying to please. Maybe she has changed. Maybe she isn’t as nice as she once was. Maybe I finally broke her.
It bothers me that I hate that idea all of a sudden. I’m annoyed at myself for having feelings for her. The anger simmers just below the surface as I barely pay any attention to the tour. The house looks great. Without all the antique furniture, it looks bigger and brighter. It reminds me of my childhood with Valya, when my mother was still alive and my father wasn’t such an asshole, and that annoys me even more. I will never have that again. I don’t deserve to have that again.
“This is bullshit,” I snap at one point as we move down a dark hall.
Peter turns back to me, eyebrows raised, worry lines crisscrossing his forehead. Beside him, Valya cuts her eyes at me, mild panic crossing her face.
“I paid for a service—overpaid, if I’m being honest—and you’re giving me half-ass, shoddy work. Look.” I swipe my finger across a blind and shove it in Peter’s face. It’s clean, but I pretend like it’s not. Going in for the kill, I say, “No wonder my father hated you.”