"Bet you're wet," I growled, my voice dropping lower. "Bet you hate yourself for it."
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of my shirt, clutching like she was drowning. I could see it—the way her breath hitched, the way her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed no. She hated this. Hated me. And fuck if that didn’t make it better.
I pulled back just enough to let her breathe, watching her gasp, her lips swollen and red. "You love this," I lied, because it was easier than admitting the truth—that I did. That the way she fought me, the way she hated me, made this the only thing that felt real.
Her tears fell faster, dripping onto her chest, her throat working as she tried to catch her breath. I didn’t give her time. I shoved back in, deeper this time, feeling her throat flutter around me. Her nails raked down my arms, but she didn’t push me away. She just took it, her body trembling, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
I was close. Too close. My spine tightened, my balls drawing up, and I knew I wasn’t going to last. I wanted to come down her throat, wanted to feel her swallow every fucking drop, but no—this was better. This was hers.
I pulled out with a rough groan, my cock thick and aching in my hand. She coughed, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and wet. I stroked myself once, twice, watching her face, the way her breath hitched as she realized what was coming.
Hot and thick, stripping across her cheeks, her lips, her chin. She flinched, her eyes squeezing shut, but she didn’t move. Didn’t wipe it away. Just sat there, trembling, her breath coming in sharp little gasps as my release marked her.
I watched her, my chest heaving, my grip on her hair loosening just enough to let her feel the difference. She was still. Too still. Her tears mixed with my come, dripping down her face, and fuck if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I leaned in, my voice a murmur against her ear. "Good girl."
She shuddered.
I released her, stepping back just enough to see the full picture—her flushed skin, her swollen lips, the way my come glistened on her face. She didn’t move to wipe it away. Didn’t look at me. Just sat there, her hands clenched into fists in her lap, her breath coming too fast.
I tucked myself back into my jeans, zipping up slowly. "Clean yourself up," I said, my voice calm. "Then come to bed."
She didn’t answer.
"Oh, and Belle?" I stopped at the door. "Don't fucking test me."
I didn’t wait.
I turned and walked out, leaving her there in the study, marked and trembling and mine. The door clicked shut behind me, soft and final.
I didn’t look back.
Chapter 13
Belle
I collapsed the moment the door clicked shut.
My knees hit the rug hard, the ache blooming sharp and immediate. My palms scraped against the weave, leaving angry red marks I barely registered. My breath came in jagged bursts that wouldn't smooth out no matter how hard I tried.
I could still feel him.
His hand on my chin, forcing me to look.
His fingers tangled in my hair, controlling everything.
His voice in my ear, low and certain and everywhere.
He wasn't touching me anymore.
But he was everywhere.
Humiliation sat low in my stomach, hot and acidic, burning its way up my throat. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw the feel of him off my skin until I bled.
I hated him.
God, I hated him.
