The reality of my situation suddenly hit me full force. It didn’t matter either way. I wasn’t walking away. I wasn’t going anywhere. Gino owned me. I had no control here. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to me. No one would stop him. “It was the perfume,” I repeated lamely. I knew I wasn’t making any sense.
“Gino hit you?”
His voice was quiet. Controlled. But there was something else there. Something that made me deflate. Something that made me drop the last shreds of the façade I hid behind. Without thinking about what I was doing, I stepped into him, my hands gripping the front of his suit jacket as all the tension and fear and sadness erupted from me all at once. I curled my body against his as I let it all out, staining the front of his expensive suit with my tears.
I didn’t notice at first how he stiffened or how his breath caught when I leaned into him, seeking comfort from the only person here who’d shown any concern for me at all. It didn’t matter that just a few nights ago, he’d had me tied to my bed while he violated my body. It didn’t matter that he’d murdered someone right in front of me. Tonight, he was the one who’d followed me to make sure I was okay.
His hands wrapped around my wrists, and the next thing I knew, he’d spun us around so it wasmyback pressed against the door, and he held both of my wrists in one hand above my head. I felt the rise and fall of his chest against mine as he drew in ragged breaths, his minty breath warm on my cheek. It occurred to me that I’d never smelled alcohol on his breath. But then all of my thoughts fled when he pressed his hips forward, the hard length of him digging into my stomach, and I arched my back without thinking. I knew I shouldn’t be encouraging him. But I didn’t want to think about what was right and what was wrong. I just wanted to feel.
And Tristan made me feelgood.
My lips parted and my eyes flew open just in time to see him lower his head until our lips were so close we breathed the same air. His grip on my wrists tightened almost to the point of pain while his other hand slid up the outside of my thigh and over my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh.
Oh, my god. “Please,” I whispered.
A low growl rumbled deep within his chest, and then his lips touched mine, salty from my tears. Softly at first, so fucking soft I trembled with the effort to hold still.
No, it wasn’t me trembling.
It was him.
Or, maybe it was both of us.
He cursed under his breath, and then his mouth was on mine. He wasn’t gentle this time, his sharp teeth nipping at my lips until I gave him full access and his tongue swept into my mouth. Exploring. Tasting. Taking what he wanted.
His kisses weren’t made of the practiced maneuvers I was accustomed to from the men who used me. They were raw. Passionate.Hungry. Like the only thing driving him was the unhinged need to possess me.
Blood rushed to the surface of my skin until I felt every inch of where his body touched mine, and moisture dampened my silk panties. I moaned, arching into him as much as I could. Madness had overtaken me, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel his skin against mine. Wanted him to fuck me right here in the bathroom like the whore everyone thought I was.
He shifted, and his thigh pressed between mine. I spread my legs, trying to ease the ache between them, but I needed more. He swallowed the small cry that escaped me, biting my lower lip in warning, and then he was lifting my dress roughly with his free hand.
I almost passed out from pleasure when his fingers found me, sliding beneath the waistband of my panties to find the wet, swollen flesh of my pussy.
He broke off the kiss, his forehead falling to my shoulder and his ragged breathing in my ear as he slid a long, thick finger inside of me.
“Tristan…please.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I begged him to finish what he’d started the other night.
His answering groan in my ear was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. Suddenly, my wrists were free as he dropped to his knees, pulled my panties to the side, and his mouth replaced his fingers. My fingers found his hair for only a second before my hands were grabbed and pressed against the wall on either side of me. I rode his mouth without shame until the tension coiling low in my stomach tightened almost to the point of pain before exploding through me so violently my head smashed into the door behind me, and my legs nearly gave out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.
I pressed my lips together, trying to hold in my cries as Tristan moaned against me, his tongue laving my pussy as I rode out my orgasm. When I could breathe again, I pulled my hands from his and reached for him, wanting to give him the same pleasure he’d just given me.
My fingers had barely grazed his shoulders when he pulled away from me and stumbled to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes cold and cautious.
“Don’t do that.”
It took a moment for the pure terror in his voice to penetrate my own mess of emotions.
Because I don’t want you to touch me.
Tristan’s words from the other night came back to me. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to make you feel good, too.” Covering my face with my hands, I fought to control myself.
He was quiet for a moment. “Don’t cry,” he told me. “It’s not you.”
Turning my back to him, I fixed my panties, pulled down my skirt, and grabbed a handful of toilet paper to wipe my face. I couldn’t go back out there looking like this.
“You won’t have to worry about Gino hurting you again.”
The rage in his voice was surprising. “What does it matter?” I asked him. “Why do you care?”
