She gasped out on another sobbing exhale as his hand slid up to her face. “Nick—”
He brushed the lock of hair out of her eyes, dragging his knuckles tenderly down her jaw before collaring her throat with his hand and tightening his fingers just enough that she felt exquisitely lightheaded. Her muscles spasmed and he gave her a particularly rough thrust that had her gasping.
“Don’t you dare fucking come.”
“Please—”
So many small humiliations lay scattered between them, spangled like a constellation of hurts in a black velvet sky where she was caught in his orbit, unable to escape.
He punished her for making him want her, and she punishedhimfor making her need him.
For making her crave this.
“Please,” she repeated.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice a textured snarl in her ear, and she shivered so violently that the chill seemed to ripple through every cell in her body, turning her very nerves to ice.
When he came, she felt the harsh echo of her own denied pleasure in each of those last staggered thrusts. His still-damp hair was drying with a slight curl to it, throwing his eyes into shadow as he stared down searchingly into her face the same way he had at dinner.
What is he looking for?
She shivered again. That icy feeling of pins and needles was edging into pain. “Nick. I’m c-cold.”
He swung off her body, heading for his pants. Jay looked away from the sight of his buttocks and tugged free of her restraints with a few hard pulls, trying to force back the bitter feeling building in the back of her throat like hot acid. As she looked around desperately, wondering where her sweatshirt had disappeared to, a hand clasped her shoulder.
Nicholas was holding up a towel.
She peeled off her damp top and let him blot her dry, the briskness of the gestures making her suck in. “Does that hurt?”
“N-no,” she said shakily. “Just sensitive.”
Apparently deeming her dry enough, he handed her the towel, watching her wrap herself in it.
“What?” she asked cautiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m imagining what it will be like when you’re here.”
Jay blinked, a startled laugh escaping her. “What are you talking about? I am here.”
“When you’re my wife.” He gave her that same intense look from before. “When you’re mine and you finally let yourselfbelonghere.”
All the moisture fled her mouth.
“I can’t remember what my life was like before you came here. You’re studded into my soul like little pieces of glass. I can feel you all over this house, and when you’re not here, it’s like being lost in that fucking mall all over again, chasing the scent of my mother’s perfume.”
He broke off, as if he hadn’t meant to say that much all at once.
(it’s such good sex)
“I said yes,” she reminded him, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
“You can’t fuck me like this and then leave me again. You can’t make me feel—” He reached out suddenly, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close. She could feel his strong fingers biting in, even through the thick terrycloth. “Don’t leave me again.”
It felt like he’d reached into her chest and squeezed. “Oh my god, Nicholas, what’s gotten into you? I’m not going anywhere.”
“You always run,” he said. “And I can’t fucking exist without you. I don’t know how.”
The devastation she saw on his face caught her raw. “I’m not going anywhere,” she repeated, very alarmed now. She leaned into him until he opened his arms and gave her one of those awkward embraces that broke her heart every time. “Except m-maybe inside,” she said in a muffled voice.
