Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
But you have to let me love you too.
The tears finally spilled over as sobs welled in my throat. I felt his hand at my nape. I tried to struggle to my knees to crawl away but my thighs collapsed before I could get very far. He yanked my hair to signal his displeasure at my “girly shit” and pressed me down like a weight. When I continued to flail, he collected my wrists behind me and held them far up on my back.
“You’re hurting me,” I bawled.
“Good, I want to.”
“Let me see you.” I turned my head, straining to look back at him. “I want to see you.”
“No.”
I stopped trying to turn over and ground my clit against the bed. I heard his lascivious chuckle just before he reached down and clapped his other hand over my pussy. Now I was grinding against his fingers, arching my hips for the fleeting, intermittent contact he allowed.
“Please touch me,” I begged.
“You have my cock,” he said roughly. “You need your clit stroked too? Spoiled fucking brat.”
But he opened his fingers and let me ride him until my pelvis shuddered and my legs jerked at the jolts of delicious sensation. I whined in my throat, animal noises, and the closer he took me to climax, the louder I got. His cock banged over my G-spot while my aching shoulders shook from the strain of having my arms twisted behind me. When the orgasm finally washed over me, I felt pain everywhere, but pleasure too, the kind that left you wrung out and shivering in the aftermath.
He didn’t let go of my wrists until he’d groaned through his own orgasm. When he did finally release me, it was a slow, deliberate letting go, like he was freeing me one nerve ending at a time. I shivered and pulled my arms beneath me. They hurt. My heart hurt. Love hurt. Love me, damn it.
He withdrew and collapsed next to me on the bed. I turned to him but he was facing away, his hand covering his eyes. It wasn’t a welcoming position. I could see the faint shadow of his bruise under his fingertips. After a minute or two of paralyzing silence, I got up to use the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to put some ice in a plastic bag.
I returned and approached his side of the bed. He lay so still he might have been sleeping.
“Do you want ice for your face?” I asked.
“No.”
I pressed it to the bruise anyway, very gently.
He sent the ice flying across the room. “I said no. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I watched the bag of ice hit the wall and slide down to rest in the corner. “I was trying to help you,” I said. “Please don’t do shit like that. It reminds me of Simon.”
“Don’t fucking say his name.”
I frowned down at him, not that he noticed. “You remind me of him sometimes,” I said on a sharp note. “You act like him sometimes. You act worse.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “Well, your loverboy’s sober now. If you like him better, maybe he’ll take you back.”
He was punishing me for saying I loved him. I understood that, but it didn’t make his cruelty any easier to bear.
“I love you,” I said, just to poke at him.
He pursed his lips. “You loved Simon, so I don’t put much stock in your fucking feelings.”
“He loved me too, once. We were in love before the drugs. He made a painting about me, called Heart-Lust. I cried, because it was the first time anyone had ever done something like that for me, made some grand gesture. It was the first time I felt like I was worth something. The second time…”
I waited until he raised his head to glare at me.
“The second time was at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, when you gave me the key to this apartment. When you sat and sewed my dress.”
He rolled onto his back and covered his eyes again, this time with a muscular forearm. “I sewed your dress because it was ripped.”
“You sewed my dress because you cared about me. You gave me this apartment because I meant something to you.”
“I gave you this apartment because you were a little too content playing Simon’s punching bag.”
I gritted my teeth, furious that he’d be the asshole Price now, when I needed him to be the thoughtful, human Price. I needed him to love me. “Why are you always like this?” I yelled. I flew at him, trying to pry his arm away from his face.
He came off the bed, grabbing hold of my hands before I could rake my nails over his skin. “What the fuck is the matter with you? What do you fucking want from me?”
“Anything! I want you to just...just...” I grabbed at my chest. “Just give me something of yourself.”