Annihilate Me (15 page)

And
then he stopped.

“I’ve
said it twice, and now I’m going to prove it to you.
 
Without barely touching you, I’m going
to make you come.
 
And then you’re
going to come in other ways tonight.
 
Throughout the night.
 
Are
you ready for that?”

I
felt as if my body couldn’t take much more, and we had just started, which was
pathetic.
 
I writhed beneath his
touch.
 
I struggled against it as he
lowered his mouth to my ear, pressed his chest ever so lightly against my
nipples, and began to rub them with his own nipples while he whispered
everything he was about to do to me.
 

It
was too much.
 
It was sensation
overload.
 
I fought against him, but
he told me it was in vain.
 
Again
and again, his nipples brushed against my own nipples.
 
Again and again, he said unthinkable
things to me.
 
Again and again, he
pushed me further to an edge I didn’t know existed, but had only heard
about.
 
But this edge was
cutting.
 
It was raw and
unexpected.
 
His chin dipped down
and his stubble brushed against my naked flesh, which left me writhing on the
bed to the point that I felt I was going to explode.
 

“Alex,”
I said.

He
didn’t respond.
 
He just kept doing
what he was doing.
 
The same
motions, over and over.
 
Barely
touching me, which seemed to me the cruelest part.
 
I wanted his hands on me, but he was
determined to deny me that.
 
This
was so close to torture that I wanted to slap him for it.
 

It
was at that point that I became wild.
 
I felt as if I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
 
I wanted to beat him for what he was
doing to me now.
 
I wanted to float
above my body and look down at us from the ceiling so I could witness what he was
doing to me.
 
I wanted to flee.
 
I wanted to stay.
 
But most of all, I wanted to come.
 

And
then, with one harsh, unexpected word, he said, “Now!”
 

Something
I’d never felt before overtook my body and I cried out in such pleasure, it
left me shaking, even when it was over.
 
I lay there, trembling.
 
I
looked up at him, then at the darkness that was the ceiling, where I had wanted
to be a moment ago, and I couldn’t believe what I’d just experienced.
 
It was beyond what I had expected.
 
But obviously, he had more in mind.

“I
told you,” he said.
 
“I can bring
you to orgasm without barely touching you.”

“That
was incredible,” I said.

“That’s
just the beginning.”

He
snaked his way down from my breasts to my belly, and then he parted my legs
slightly, hesitated, and then spread my thighs wide.
 
His head lowered from sight, but I could
feel his tongue slip inside of me.
 
I couldn’t believe his mouth was down there, or what he was doing
there.
 
I couldn’t believe I could
ever be so open to a man.
 
His
licked my wet folds, pressed around them, and flicked them with his
tongue.
 
He tasted them for long
moments before he went to my clitoris and covered his mouth over it while he
sucked until I screamed out again.
 

“What
are you doing to me?”

“Everything
that you’ve deprived yourself of.”

“It’s
too much.”

“So
you’ve said.
 
And it hasn’t even
begun.”

I
heard him spit in his hand, and I knew what that meant.
 
He was lubricating himself.
 
I could feel his arm move backward and
forward.
 
He lifted up my hips a
bit, and then he asked me if I was ready.

“If
I’m not ready now, I never will be.”
 
I couldn’t help a little laugh, but it was a nervous, almost manic laugh.
 
It was a laugh filled with the
uncertainty of the unexpected.
 
It
was a laugh laced with a trace of fear.

Is this going to hurt?

I
felt the tip of his cock press against me, and I was surprised that it
didn’t
feel as if it was going to hurt.
 
He pressed further into me, and it felt
tight, but good.
 
He had prepared me
for this.
 
He’d spent an hour making
sure I was wet and ready for him.
 
He knew exactly what he was doing, probably because he knew that given
the size of his penis, he could cause great pain.
 

Slowly,
inch by careful inch, he moved within me until I did feel pain.
 
I gasped when I felt an odd sensation, a
kind of giving way of flesh, and then I felt a warm moistness spread between my
legs.
 
We both knew what that meant,
and for a moment he paused and his eyes searched mine, his soul a mirror of my
own.
 

“Are
you—?”

“Don’t
stop,” I said.
 

He
plunged deeper into me, which made me curl up and grasp him around his
shoulders while he pumped into me.
 
His rhythm was steady and strong.
 
He never looked away from me.
 
I absorbed every bed-shaking thrust with a mixture of pain and pleasure,
mostly the latter.
 
Thank God for
the latter.
 
I melted into him and
eventually started to meet his thrusts with my own.
 
When I became wildly aroused, my head
arched back and he barked that word again:
 
“Now!”

The
command startled me so much that I came.
 
And then I came again.
 
And
again.
 
Somehow, each orgasm made
the moonlit room grow even darker.
 
I threw my hands over my face while he continued to pulse inside of me,
and I felt as if I was aloft, not part of my body at all.
 
I was hovering just outside of myself, which
made no sense to me because I was holding on to him fiercely for support.
 
My grip was so strong around his
shoulders that I had bound myself physically to him, but my head and my heart
and my body were in the ether.
 
I
was in another place.
 
He kept pounding
and pounding, his head lowering to suck on my nipples or to bury his mouth
against my lips or my ears as his sweat dripped down onto me.
 
He was like a machine, precise and
efficient.
 
Without exhaustion, he
drilled into me, always checking my expression to make sure that I was with
him.
 
How long could he last?
 
Certainly, not that much longer.

But
it was longer than I’d expected.
 
Thirty minutes later, when his body finally shuddered as he came in a
roar and we both were spent, I realized that I had no idea what I was up
against.

He
still was on top of me.
 
“Now are
you my girlfriend?” he said.

I
didn’t answer.
 
Even though in my
heart I was his girlfriend, I wasn’t ready to commit to that yet.
 
It was a loaded term for me.
 
My father once told me that I’d never
find anyone.
 
He said that, if on
the off chance that I somehow did, they’d leave me once they learned that I was
nothing more than a common, filthy whore, just like my mother.
 
It made no sense to me then, but when he
was drunk,
he
made no sense.
 
But his words still stuck like glue, and
I was damned that even at this point in my life, I’d yet to shake them off.

My
head was spinning now, but Alex wasn’t about to give up.

“All
right then.
 
Too soon.
 
But are you mine?”

“Only
if you’re mine.”

“That
equals thing again, huh?”

“I’m
sorry.”

“Don’t
apologize,” he said quietly.
 
“I’m
yours.
 
But I have been for a while
now.
 
I’m completely yours.”

“Take
me again.”

Somehow,
he did.
 
He became erect in what
seemed like seconds.
 
Then, he slid
inside of me and rode me, and I didn’t know where I was or who I was when he
maneuvered me around the bed into more positions than I thought were
possible.
 
But I knew that this was
right.
 
I knew that I was his and
that he was mine.
 
And I knew in
some part of my being as he thrust into me and whispered things to me that were
fueled by passion, that there was no turning away from this now.
 

As
fierce as he was in bed, never once didn’t I trust him.
 
He seemed to intuitively know exactly
how to position his body so I would enjoy the maximum pleasure.
 

We
went so late into the night that I saw morning break beyond the windows in
front of me.
 
And when I came again,
my body spent from the convulsions of yet another orgasm, he gently pulled out
of me, turned me onto my side, and wrapped his arm around my waist as I quickly
fell into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In
the morning, I woke alone.
 
I sat up
in bed and was disappointed not to see Alex beside me until I got a look at the
time on the clock on the bedside table.
 
It was nearly eleven a.m.
 
Unbelieving, I just stared at the time.
 
Then, feeling guilty that I’d slept so
late, I pulled back the covers, and saw the bloodstains in the center of the
bed.
 
Since I was naked, I quickly
dressed into the clothes I wore the day before and stripped the bed, as well as
the mattress pad.

I
did it all in shame even though I knew that the blood was only natural.
 
Still, I didn’t need to see it, and
neither did he.
 

I
balled up everything, and only when I saw in relief that I hadn’t stained the
mattress itself, did I begin to feel the pain in my body.
 
Every part of me was sore, especially
one part of me that felt as if I should send it flowers, a sympathy card and
offer it a heart-felt apology.

I
turned to put the bedclothes onto the floor, and saw that Alex was
outside.
 
He stood at the shoreline
skipping rocks across the water.
 
He
was wearing tan-colored shorts and no shirt.
 
Was this him as a young boy?
 
Is this how he escaped from his
parents?
 

I’d
done the same thing as a young girl, especially when my uncle took me to the
ocean for a day of lobstering.
 
The
effect of skipping stones so they sailed and bounced off water was calming to
the point of being almost hypnotic.
 

I
wondered how much else Alex hadn’t told me about his past, but it would come in
time.
 
It occurred to me that I
didn’t know how his parents had died.
 
How long had they been dead?
 
How old were they when they passed?
 
At thirty, Alex was relatively young for both parents to be
deceased.
 
Even if his mother gave
birth to him at thirty-five, she’d only be sixty-five now.
 
Far too young to be gone, unless there
was an underlying issue with her health.
 
The same was true for his father, but both dying so young?
 
There was something there, but I shook
the thought because I wanted him to tell me himself, and because I needed to
move it if I was going to look halfway decent when I saw him.
 

Seeing
my chance for a quick shower, I dashed toward my closet, found something short
and cute to wear for the day, and brought it with me into the bathroom.
 
I closed the door, undressed, and
stepped into the glass-encased shower.
 
I turned on the water, but kept the temperature low.
 
I was hot enough from running around.

On
the shelves above me were all of the Aveda products that I used at home.
 
Lisa must have told him what to
buy.
 
Of course she had.
 
But what I had before me was an even broader
selection than I had at home.
 
So
like a kid in a candy store, I looked at the different types of face washes,
chose an exfoliant, plunged my face and head beneath the warm water until I was
soaking wet, and started to wash myself.
 
Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and my hair was dry and pulled back
into a chic ponytail.
 
On my face, I
used only the lightest touch of makeup because my skin was practically glowing
after last night.

When
I stepped into the bedroom, I was surprised to find that the bed was made with
new bedding, and that Alex was stretched out in one of the chairs.
 
Without his shirt on and with his legs
spread open wide, I had all I could do to meet his eyes.

“Good
morning,” he said.

God, he looks sexy.

“Good
almost afternoon,” I replied.

“How
are you today?” he asked.

I
knew why he was asking, and I blushed at the thought of an answer.
 
“I’m good.”

“Just
good?”

“Maybe
a little sore.”

“Too
sore for more?”

“Definitely
not too sore for more.
 
Give me the
afternoon, and I’ll be ready to go by evening.”
 

I
looked for last night’s bedding, and saw that it was gone.
 
I didn’t want him to see the blood, but
there was nothing I could do about that now.
 
Somewhere in the house, he’d already
started a wash while I was showering.
 
Again, a sense of shame overcame me.
 
I felt embarrassed.

Damn it.

I
went over to him, sat in his lap, and ran my fingers through his thick hair before
I kissed him.
 
I put my arm around
his bare shoulders while he caressed one of my legs with his right hand.
 

“Last
night was beautiful,” I said.
 
“Thank you.”

“Why
are you thanking me?”

“Because
you knew exactly what you were doing.
 
Because it could have gone a million different ways.
 
And because it’s something I won’t
forget.”

“Neither
will I.”

He
smiled, but the smile didn’t quite show in his eyes.
 
He seemed distracted to me.
 
“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Everything’s
fine.
 
Just some weirdness at work,
but what else is new?”

“Anything
I can do?”

“If
you’re as hungry as I am, there is.”

“You
don’t know the depths of my hunger.”

“By
that, I’m going to assume you mean food.”

“Maybe,
maybe not.”

He
patted my ass.
 
“When we arrived
yesterday, we passed a farm stand a few miles down the street.
 
I thought we might take a drive there
and see if we can find anything that inspires us for dinner tonight.
 
All the crops are in harvest now.
 
There should be all sorts of great
stuff—corn, tomatoes, baby potatoes, broccoli, you name it.
 
I also noticed that they serve some sort
of lunch there, though I was going too fast to see what kind of lunch.
 
I think cheese was involved.”

“You
wouldn’t know.
 
You were going,
like, eighty.”

“So,
I was.
 
And who can blame me in a
car like that?
 
Want to give it a
try?”

“The
car or the farm stand?”

“The
farm stand.”

“Absolutely.
 
The Whole Foods of Maine, only
better.
 
You’re on.”
 
I patted his own ass as he lifted me out
of the chair and stood beside me.
 
“Grab a shirt—I don’t want all the local girls feasting on you.”

He
went into what was supposed to be his bedroom and came out with a white polo
shirt that clung to him like a second skin and somehow made him look sexier,
which made no sense to me since he was a god without his shirt on.
 

“Don’t
think I won’t be chasing off the locals boys if they come anywhere near you,”
he said.

“It
could happen.
 
Some young farming
stud longing for a lass....”

“I’m
prepared.”

“He
might need me to break in one of his new horses.
 
One of the big ones.”

“I
think that happened last night.”

I
giggled.
 
He reached for my hand and
we started to leave.

“You
know, Alex, you really should eat well today.
 
Choose nutrient-dense foods.
 
Here’s hoping that they have something
with protein of some sort.
 
You’re
going to need it later tonight.”

He
stifled a laugh.
 
“As if you’re
not.
 
Last night was just a
primer.
 
Tonight—or hell,
probably when we get back—is when things will really get interesting.”

“You’re
such a tease.”

“Really?
 
When we get back, you’ll see that I’m
just telling the truth.”

*
 
*
 
*
 

When
we left the house and started to walk toward Alex’s black Mercedes SL Roadster,
which was gleaming in the mid-afternoon sun like the shiny jewel that it was, I
noticed two men I hadn’t seen before.
 

One
was standing to the right of the gated entrance to Alex’s property, and the
other was off to the left.
 
My first
thought was that these were no ordinary men.
 
They were guards of some sort.

Dark
glasses shielded their eyes.
 
They
were completely in black, and stood just off the street, near the wooded area,
where the foliage partly concealed them.
 

What
alarmed me was that each man carried a gun in a holster low at his waist.
 
Some sort of high-tech communication
device was attached to their heads.
 
Mikes were at the sides of their mouths.
 
Each had an earpiece in one ear.
 
They looked focused and serious.

“Who
are they?”

Alex
kept his voice light.
 
“Security.”

“Since
when do we have security?”

“They
arrived not long after we did yesterday.”
 
He turned to me.
 
“You were
just too distracted to notice them.”

“Do
you always travel with security?”

He
didn’t have time to answer, because the man at our right motioned him over and
they began to talk.
 
I stood by the
car and tried to listen, but I couldn’t hear them.
 
An annoying breeze rustled the leaves in
the trees, and Alex and the other man were speaking too lowly for me to hear
what they were saying.
 
I looked at
the man to my left, who gave me a curt nod.

“Good
morning, Ms. Kent.”

“Good
morning.
 
Have you been out here
long?
 
Would you like some water or
for us to bring you back something to eat?”

“We’re
fine, Ms. Kent.
 
Thank you.”

I
leaned against the car while Alex continued his conversation.
 
And then I saw another man.
 
Across from me, down the road, was a
black Range Rover parked on the side of the street.
 
A man dressed similarly to the others
stood outside the driver’s side door.
 
He also wore a gun and the same equipment around his head.

What the hell?
I thought.

“Ready?”
Alex asked as he jogged back toward the car.

“Absolutely.
 
Top down?”

“Let’s
keep it up today.
 
They’re calling
for showers.”

“It’s
perfectly sunny, Alex.”

“The
weather in Maine can change on a dime.
 
You know that.
 
Come on.
 
I’m starving.”

We
got inside and buckled up.
 
Down the
street, I saw the man next to the Range Rover step into it.
 
When he opened the door, I saw another
man sitting in the passenger’s seat.

“So,
this is unusual,” I said.
 
“Four
guards?”

He
started the car, put his hand on my thigh, and said, “Try to ignore them.
 
They’re just doing their jobs.”

“To
protect you from what?”

He
was about to pull away, but then stopped and looked at me.
 
“The entire time you’ve been with me,
from that very first night at the Four Seasons, I’ve had protection with me.
 
It’s just that out here in the wilds,
it’s a lot more noticeable than it is when we’re in a crowded room.
 
It’s something I do as a precaution.
 
It’s done for a reason, and you know the
reason.
 
Because of my position and
my money, I’ll always be a target.
 
That’s why they’re here—to make sure I’m not a target.
 
They’re doing their jobs.
 
And in case anything happens—not
that it’s going to—we’ll be protected.
 
OK?”

“That’s
going to take some getting used to.
 
But I get it.
 
It’s just new
to me, that’s all.”
 
And then a
thought occurred to me.
 
“I hope
they didn’t hear me last night.
 
That would be pretty embarrassing.”