I shut my eyes as my clit throbs in utter pleasure, as he groans loudly against me. I grab onto his hair as he changes his perfect sensual and slow rhythm, to one that’s starving and primal.
Surrendering all control, I get lost in his dominating ways, the way he can make my body bend to his will, like no other man can.
I use my legs to hold onto him a little harder. I try to hold back and enjoy his mouth on me for a few more minutes, but his tongue sends me over the edge and I begin to collapse.
“Michael…Michael…” I try to get him to give me a little control, but he never stops his rhythm. And it’s useless for me to fight his power, as orgasmic tremors start wracking their way through my entire body.
Screaming his name at the top of my lungs, I come apart in his mouth for what feels like forever. And when I start to come back down, I can still feel him teasing me with his tongue a bit slower, still feel him begging me to accept his apology.
Looking at the sight of him between my legs makes me want to beg him for more, but I show restraint.
When he finishes kissing my clit—shortly after I’ve stopped shaking against him, he moves back and sets my feet onto the tiled floor again. He stares at me—his green eyed gaze heated as he pushes my slip’s shoulder strap back into place. He brushes loose strands of hair off my face and trails his finger against my collarbone.
The look in his eyes tells me that he wants more of me---right now. And if I was sane, I would refuse. I would use what was left of my energy, walk the hell away from him, and return to my room.
I’ve been past insane since the day we met, though.
I stand up and move past him, slowly walking out of the bathroom suite. I feel his eyes watching my every move as I step onto the floor of his bedroom.
Stopping at the edge of his bed, I grab the hem of my slip and slowly pull it over my head.
I look over my shoulder—daring him to follow me, before slipping under the sheets.
Smiling, he stands to his feet and shuts the door for a few seconds. I hear the sink water running and adjust my head onto a pillow.
Moments later, he joins me on the bed—attaching his mouth to mine. He grabs my hands and slowly moves them over my head, pinning my body down with his hips.
I can feel his rock-hard cock against my thigh, and I beg him to give it to me. Whisper that it’s all his, that right now nothing else matters, and I just want to feel him deep inside of me.
He doesn’t hesitate to deliver. Still kissing me, he slides into me all at once—filling me and making me whole. Making me never want to experience a day when he isn’t inside of me.
He stares into my eyes as he makes love to me, hard and deep, more slowly and more sensually than we used to fuck. He runs his hands up my sides as he kisses me softly—whispering words against my lips that I don’t quite comprehend.
All I can interpret is, “I did all this for you…”
As he continues to move in and out of me, I moan and dig my nails into his back. I feel something hard underneath me and start to reach for it, but he kisses me harder and makes me forget.
“Fuck, Meredith…” He thrusts into me one last time—his stroke hitting my spot at just the right moment. He grips my hands as he stiffens, and I call out his name as we reach our climax at the same time.
Still inside of me, he bends down and kisses my forehead. Then he kisses every inch of my neck—still saying sorry for moments earlier.
We remain entwined for what feels like forever, until he slowly rolls off me.
“Water?” he asks.
I nod and he leaves the room. I wait until I hear his feet against the steps. Then I reach under me to see what was rubbing up against me during sex.
It’s a cell phone. Swallowing, I stare at it for several seconds, unsure of what to do. I roll over and grab my slip from the floor, pulling it back over my body. I tuck the phone into my bra and sit up, hoping like hell that he won’t notice.
He steps into the room mid-thought, two glasses of water in hand. Holding one out for me, he waits on me to take a few sips before sitting next to me.
“You should get some rest,” he says. “I still need you to give me a hundred laps in the pool later this morning.”
“Are you ever going to tell me why you’re making me do that?”
He lets out a sigh. “I will at the end.”
“By ‘the end’ do you mean, the end of my life?”
“Only figuratively.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re pretty well-read,” he says, downing the rest of his water, as I stand up from the mattress. “I’m sure I don’t have to define what a simple word like that means.”
“Are you implying murder?”
“It’s a little too late to kill you, Meredith,” he says. “If that was the plan, I would’ve done it weeks ago.” He shakes his head. “Do you have any other questions?”
“Several.”
“Well, that’s quite unfortunate,” he says. “I’m all out of answers.”
I turn away and walk toward the door.
“Wait,” he says, triggering my heart to race overtime. “One second.”
“Yeah?” I turn around.
“Your ring fell off.” He holds it out to me, then slips it onto my finger. He looks as if he wants to say something more, but he simply sighs and returns to his room, shutting the door behind him.
I rush to my room and immediately pull the phone from my bra. No service bars, just roaming. I debate risking a 9-1-1 call, if that would even work, but I know I need to think this all the way through.
Instead, I open the recent calls list and my stomach falls to the floor. I know the number of the last few calls by heart.
101-088-8076…
I know it all too well, and I know now, more than ever, that this man has something extremely dark and ugly up his sleeve for me in the future…
Meredith
Before
“Where to Miss?” The driver smiled at me as I slipped into his cab.
“120 Park Avenue.”
He nodded and pulled onto the street as I buckled my seatbelt. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I turned on the selfie camera and took one final look at my makeup.
With my eyelids coated in shimmering pink and my lips coated in a red that stood out against my freckle-concealing foundation, I almost looked like one of the girls in the magazines. At least, I was trying to convince myself that this was the case.
As I was adding a tad bit more highlighter to my cheeks, the phone buzzed against my fingertips with an incoming call.
101-088-8076…. Bzzzz! 101-088-8076…
Ugh.
It was the same number that called me morning, noon, and night for no reason at all. For several months in a row. I’d blocked it numerous times, but somehow, someway, it still managed to get through.
Blocking it again, I checked my email to make sure my boss hadn’t sent me any last-minute requests. Not that I’d be able to do anything about them for the next two hours, though.
Tonight was my night to dance on the premiere stage at Club Swan, and I couldn’t afford to miss it. Literally couldn’t afford to.
No matter how badly I tried to convince myself that I only danced for myself—to deal with the pain, I knew that was a lie. I was dancing for far more than that these days.