A few more strokes, and I draw her clit into my mouth. I suck, gently at first. She whimpers and rocks her hips against me, holding herself open with eager abandon. A wave of pride washes over me, knowing I’m overwhelming her with pleasure. Her silky softness and her intoxicating taste are my rewards.
I quicken my pace and ease a finger into her drenched pussy.
She shudders.
The sight of her unraveling up close shreds the remnants of my restraint. I kiss my way back up to her mouth and cover it with mine again. A primal need to claim her makes me push my tongue deep. She welcomes the invasion. My hand slides up her neck and cups it gently.
She goes still.
Her lips stay on mine but don’t move. Her body’s rigid under me. I pull back just enough to see her face in the low light.
“Eva?” My voice is low, careful.
Nothing.
“Hey.” I loosen my grip instantly and back off, hands up like I’m surrendering. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Talk to me,” I press. “Please.”
Finally, her gaze meets mine. She’s wary. It’s killing me.
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” she murmurs. “It’s just… Geoffroy, his idea of sex was…”
My jaw sets as I grasp what she’s trying to say. I wait silently, cursing my careless grip.
She swallows. “His idea of sex was dominance. And pain. Usually both.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Figures.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re not surprised?”
“That he was a sadistic asshole? Not at all.”
She studies me, waiting for an explanation.
I could give her one. I could tell her about the yachting weekend from hell when I was twelve and he thirty-six. Father thought it would be a “bonding experience” for his two boys who rarely saw each other. Just Geoffroy, me, Father’s yacht, and the Riviera.
But my charming half brother invited two of his equally gregarious friends. The three of them made me their errand boy and laughed when they pressured me to drink until I threw up over the side. Geoffroy belittled me, called me names, mocked my interests, hid my stuff, and amused his friends at my expense. When we got back—me to my mom, and him to his wife at the time and little Julian—he told me to suck it up and be grateful for the “life lessons” he’d imparted.
Yeah, I could share that story with Eva. But not now.
This isn’t the time to air my childhood grievances. They’re just a scratch compared to what Geoffroy did to Eva. The scale isn’t even on the same planet. She doesn’t need my old stories now. She needs to know I’m not him.
I look her in the eye. She holds my gaze. The air between us feels different now, heavy with memories still sharp.
“Eva,” I say. “I don’t have that kind of shit in me.”
She surveys me for a long moment.
“Let me guess,” I say. “Did he have a tiny dick?”
Her eyes widen. “Alex!”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I push.
She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. He’s Millie’s father, I get it. I don’t expect her to mock him.
