Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I let her breathe as I kiss her, but I don’t take my hand off her throat. I keep her head pinned against the mirror and dip my free hand between our bodies. She’s balancing her weight on her arms, her upper body slightly bent backwards with her breasts pressed out and her legs wide open when she comes. I pull back to admire the view. Her back arches like a bow, every toned muscle pulled tight in a beautiful display of ecstasy.
Having taken care of her pleasure, I chase mine too. I batter her body with harsh, bitter thrusts until release finally comes. The climax doesn’t sate me. The need lingers. I can’t put a name to it. I only know shooting my load was powerful on a physical level yet unsatisfying on a deeper one.
Resting my forehead against hers, I catch my breath. I slide my hand from her neck to cup her breast. I drag my palm over her stomach and lower, joining the other that’s still caught between our bodies. I push her thighs apart before I pull out so that I can watch my cum leak from her pussy and run down her legs. She blushes, but she doesn’t fight me. She sags against the mirror, looking defeated and ravished.
How did we get to this point? Have we always been so angry, so depraved? Or is it just me?
Closing her legs, I lift her off the counter and put her on her feet. She doesn’t meet my gaze. She steps past me, opens the shower door, and gets into the cubicle. When she closes the glass door behind her, she vanishes in a thick billow of fog, the picture of her already fading. Always unobtainable. Always out of reach. Even with all the marks I’ve put on and inside her.
No matter.
She’s mine.
She’ll never escape that fate.
The thought does little to soothe me as I clean up at the basin, gather my clothes, and get dressed. When I say goodbye to Heidi in the kitchen, my features are schooled, my expression empty and my heart already cold.
Chapter
Nineteen
Sabella
* * *
The Eiffel Tower is a dazzling display of twinkling lights from the car window. The driver who fetched us at the airport is speeding along the Seine River. My husband sits next to me, engrossed in his phone. As always, he’s tense. The most relaxed I’ve seen him was with Sophie. I’m not even sure that was real. Maybe he was just pretending to put her at ease.
I steal a sidelong glance at his strong, handsome features. Angelo didn’t tell me our destination when we caught a flight in Bastia this morning. We landed in Marseille. The city brought back unpleasant memories. My husband left me under guard at the same hotel where we’d stayed on our wedding night. Then he disappeared to conduct business. He only came back for me after dark, whisking me to the airport again to board a national flight.
I didn’t expect to land in Paris. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I look through the window again. At night, the city is beautiful. I suspect it will be more breathtaking in the daylight, even in the starkness of winter with the plane trees stripped of their leaves. Or maybe especially because of that.
The driver drops us off at the Ritz where the cocktail party will take place. A bellboy takes our luggage and escorts us to one of the suites. Angelo tips him and locks the door when he’s gone.
“Hungry?” he asks, scrutinizing me with his dark eyes.
I walk to the window and draw back the curtains. “No.”
People wrapped up in coats and hats walk arm-in-arm in the street below, couples on their way to an exciting or happy destination. I never thought I’d be in Paris and not be excited. Not happy.
“I’m going to check on the security downstairs,” he says. “We have to be ready in an hour.”
I turn and rest my back against the cold windowpane. “How badly do you want Thomas Powell to sign this deal?”
His eyes tighten in the corners. “I told you it’s important to me.”
“If I help you, I want something in return.”
He raises a brow. “Are you negotiating with me, wife?”
I shrug. “If I play my part in convincing Mr. Powell to do business with you, it’s only fair that you do something for me.”
“I disagree with your understanding of what’s fair and what I owe you, but I’m curious.” He studies me with a tilted head. “What do you want?”
“I want you to give the local school a chance.”
A tinge of anger laces his tone. “Don’t you want me to send Sophie to a prestigious school and give her a better chance at having a good future?”
“I think sending her away is a mistake.”