My body thrummed. I’d never felt more anxious to see something—something I’d felt too many times without being able to hold it inside me.
“You enjoying the sight, ma petite?” he teased me, but I couldn’t stop staring.
“You should have been the model,” I rasped, “for class.”
I thought I heard him growl as long fingers entered my view, undoing his pants. He didn’t make a show or draw it out. One swift motion had the rest of his clothes on the floor and he was standing in front of me with a cock that seemed larger than life pointing directly at me, so thick and long. Oh God.
Maybe I had spoken too soon. Maybe I hadn’t been thinking.
Maybe this wasn’t going to work.
Still, my sex clenched over and over like it was hyperventilating with the need to have him inside me. It was going to hurt. Not only because I was a virgin. But because he was going to make it hurt, because he’s going to fuck my untouched pussy until that part was just as broken as the rest. And I was going to love it because I loved all the things that I should loathe.
Unamused by my suggestion, he stepped toward me and reached out, pinching my nipples between his fingers and pulling me toward him. I gasped and followed the pleasurably painful command.
“La mienne, ma petite,” he growled.
His lips came for mine as his hands yanked me against him. I shuddered, feeling the hot ridge of him trapped up and pulsing against the length of my stomach. There was a good possibility I wasn’t going to survive tonight.
The next second, I felt weightless before my back touched the cold carpet on the floor, the soft crinkle of the few unlucky sheets of paper that had the unfortunate luck of being crushed underneath us. My legs spread to cradle him and keep him against me. The proximity of him resting against my pussy made me arch up, making his dick jerk between us.
He hissed into my mouth as his hand speared through my hair and pulled my head back, exposing my neck to him. “How much do you want this to hurt, ma petite? Keep that up and it will be far more than I’d promised.”
“B-but I need you,” I pleaded.
“I know you need me,” he laughed against the soft skin of my throat. “I know your little virgin pussy is just as needy for attention as the rest of you. My attention. Only mine. Why do you want me to hurt you?”
He slid down my body, pushing up on his one hand and turning me to the side so that he could look at my tattoo again.
“B-because to hurt me, you’ll have to be a part of me,” I admitted. “And I want you to be a part of me. I want you inside me. I want you to break me.”
My fist clenched, desperate to touch him but trapped by his hand. I was wild with need and the way he stared at the inscription on my skin made me shake with it.
The first thing I felt was his teeth right at the top of the words. He released my hand and it immediately searched out his head. With a growl, Léo bit into my flesh and when I arched and gasped with shocked pain, the hand that had been restraining mine reached around my back, down over my ass, and pushed two fingers inside my slick entrance.
He moved an inch down my tattoo and bit again. This time, his thumb rubbed over my clit and the two fingers slid out and back in again. I was quaking underneath him. The pain from the bites heightened the pleasure from his hand between my thighs. Another bite, not as hard this time, but to make up for it, three fingers pushed inside me, stretching me wider.
“Léo…” I gasped his name, jerking against his hand.
He made his way down my tattoo, each bite lessening in intensity until they transformed into kisses. At the same time, each invasion of my body by his hand grew harder and more demanding.
When he made it to my hip—to the end of the words—I knew that one more brush of his thumb would end me.
“Don’t come,” he commanded.
Everything was a fog. I wanted to obey. I did. But I wasn’t sure that I could.
“I c-can’t…” I whimpered, mindless. “I need…”
“Fuck.” His control snapped. Any other plans to torture me for making him want me vanished as he pulled back and reached for his discarded pants, tugging out a condom from the pocket.
I moaned, watching as he rolled it over the purple, throbbing length.
“Please, break me, Léo,” I whispered. It was all I ever felt; it was all I ever wanted: to be completely and utterly broken by emotions too big to contain.
“You begged for this, ma petite,” he accused, fisting his hard cock. “And I can’t seem to fucking deny you anything. Especially when all I’ve thought about since I saw you was just how much of me you could take…”
My legs shook as he positioned his head against my drenched pussy, sliding easily between the folds where his fingers had been the best, poor substitute for what was coming. I couldn’t stop staring at his body—the way all of his muscles went taut and sweat shimmered from his skin.
He positioned himself at my entrance and pushed inside me and God, himself, couldn’t hold my world together any longer.
“Mon Dieu,” he groaned as his swollen cock invaded my tight, unused muscles.
I barely breathed, choking in only what was necessary as I stared at his strained, tortured expression. I didn’t want him to keep going so slow. It didn’t hurt. It felt strange… full… but he wasn’t hurting me. My feet dug into the carpet and arched my hips up slightly, feeling him sink deeper.
“Troian,” he growled angrily at me, one hand sliding up my quivering stomach to cup my breast and toy with my nipples as he moved a little deeper and then froze. “You don’t know what you want. That’s why you end up wanting what hurts. Just like this.” He was so angry as he spoke and I wanted to soothe him. Was this not enjoyable for him?
Was there something wrong with me?
He leaned down over me, propping himself on one arm, his other hand sliding back down my tattoo to grip my hip and hold me steady.
“You are going to loathe this, ma petite,” he whispered hoarsely against my lips. I shivered and now I knew why he’d stopped. These were the last seconds of my life that I would be a virgin. “You are going to loathe this… and me…” His tone completely changed—like hurting me was the very worst thing he’d ever done or would do. “But, I promise, it won’t be like that for long.”
In the things we loathe become the things we love.
“I trust you,” I whispered, biting the lower fullness of his lip and sucking it into my mouth.
“Troian…” I was his undoing. And the next second, the knowledge of everything I never could have known burned through me as he shoved all the way inside of me.
I cried out as sharp and searing pain exploded out from my sex. It hurt and my body revolted. It wanted to push him out of me, the strange fullness from before now painful.
“Mon Dieu, Troian,” he rasped into my neck. “So tight, ma petite. I’ve never felt anything si incroyable. You strangle my cock. Ahh… mon Dieu…”
How could I be strangling that thing when it was tearing me apart? No, I wanted to strangle him. I wasn’t made for this. I was too small. He was right. My legs bent and straightened in random jerks trying to alleviate the pain.
“I-it hurts, Léo,” I whimpered. “I can’t—I’m not made—”
His finger gripped my chin and forced my watery eyes to him. “You aren’t made for this,” he finished my sentence harshly and I hiccupped with the urge to cry. “That’s why I had to break you, ma petite. You weren’t made for this; I broke you so that you’d be made for me.” His hand slid back up to knead my breast and for the first time in minutes, there was a spark of something other than pain that my body recognized. “I will make it better, ma petite. Je te promis.” I promise you.
He rained kisses down my neck and onto my chest. The pain was still there but his other touches were a distraction that grew easier to focus on by the minute. There was pain; there was pleasure. But what I felt… what I felt was only Léo. Pleasure. Pain. Beginning. End. Loathing.
Love.
He plumped my breast up to his mouth and when his mouth tugged on my nipple, my hips arched up to his on their own. He half-groaned, half-laughed against my skin, letting my nipple pop from his mouth.
He tugged my head to the side so that those lips could caress the shell of my ear as he spoke. “It’s going to hurt again, ma petite. It’s going to burn.” I whimpered in protest, my body tensing at the thought of more. “It’s going to feel like I’m splitting you in two because I am. Because I have to—I have to go all the way in. Because I want your sweet little pussy molded to me… I want my cock to be the only thing your hot little cunt knows how to fit inside her.”
I wiggled underneath him, his words made me so hot even though the dull pain still radiated from where we were joined. I felt him suck in a breath as he pulled out slowly. Relief was like a cool breeze over me—and then gone in a second as he forced his way back in with a low grunt. My back arched off the floor as I clamped down on his cock with a pained cry. So painful. So fucking painful.
I loathed him.
My hips moved side to side, trying to make it more comfortable. It should be getting better now, right? Why wasn’t it getting better?
“Stop moving,” he growled angrily, fingers digging into my hips. “Just let me make it better.”
And the fucked-up part of me that likes to play with scissors wanted more.
“I can’t…” I lifted my legs up, wrapped them around his waist, and got what I asked for. His cock slid deeper. It impaled me farther until it couldn’t—until it hit the wall inside me that he couldn’t break through. I gasped at the pain, but I didn’t care. I’d take the pain if it meant that he was inside me. This pain was healing. This pain was complete.
It hurt unlike anything I’d ever felt before, but it was attached to something. It was anchored to him.
“Unlock your legs and repeat after me.” His command was firm and hoarse.
My body obeyed, my legs released his hips giving him the freedom to move again.
“Aux objets répugnants…” he said with a low voice, his thumb tracing over my lip, pulling from me the words to repeat.
I swallowed hard. “Aux objets répugnants.”
Now propped on one elbow, his free hand skimmed down to my chest, swirling and plucking at my reddened nipple. “Again.”
I moaned as he plumped and tugged on my heavy breast. “Aux objets répugnants…” The flick over my nipple was the first thing that completely drowned out the pulsing pain from my sex.
I shivered as I felt his fingers make their way to my tattoo. “Aux objets répugnants…” I said again as they drifted over the words.
“Parfaite,” he whispered and nuzzled my neck.
I winced feeling him start to slide out of my sex.
My lower lip pulsed between my teeth as I clamped down on it, preparing for another invasion. Instead, I felt his fingers on my clit, the gentle flick shooting hot pleasure through my body. Gasping, my eyes shot open to look at him. He was hard and focused and for the first time, I realized how much it was taking for him to not hurt me—to try and make this better for me. Another flick and a long lusty moan escaped me.
“Better?” he rasped, the harshness in his face loosening slightly.
I swallowed and answered breathlessly, “Y-yes.”
“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this.” His voice was a thread of a whisper. “In the store. On the table at that bar. On your desk in class. On the platform. Naked. Desperate. In pain. Turning your pain to pleasure.” His thumb pressed firmly on my clit and I jerked under the sharp sensation, shifting his arousal inside me, reminding me how completely stuffed I was with him.
I drew a shuddering breath and his thumb moved again. Circling, rolling, flicking, drawing pleasure from me like water from a well.
“Encore, ma petite.” The pressure increased and I couldn’t keep my moans quiet. “Say it again.”
“Oh God… Léo.” What he was going with his hand made my body ravenous. The pain was gone as I searched for something stronger.
“Dis-le-moi.” Tell me.
“Aux objets répugnants…” I exhaled as I bowed my back, lodging him deeper inside.
The words that left his mouth were what I can only assume are a string of strangled curses that I guessed didn’t translate into English appropriately as his body vibrated with the cost of remaining still.
“You’re going to pay for that, ma petite. You’re always pushing me. Pushing me past what I should do—what is right. Pushing me to hurt you. Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it?”
My head rocked side to side, lost and consumed by him as he continued to play mercilessly with my clit like it was his own private toy.
I felt as he pushed his torso up off of me, his fingers gripping into my hips. In a daze, I saw the way he looked down at me, at where we were joined. “You want me to punish your pussy like I promised?”
“Yes,” I confessed. “That’s what I want. Everything. All of you.”
I loathed him.
He slowly slid out of me. I was so wet down there and I knew it was so much more than just blood. And then he was moving. In and out of me, rocking slow, determined strokes all the way up into my stomach. I forgot about any pain that came before. All I knew was the fullness that increased my desire with each thrust.
“Say it again,” he commanded. “The whole thing.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, not-so-subtly begging for more.
“Aux objets répugnants…” I drifted off with a whimper as he held back, “n-nous trouvons des appas.”
With a look that was an explosion of triumph, desperation, and lack of restraint, he slammed back into me.
“Nous trouvons. Des appas,” I chanted because it was the only words my mouth could form as he rammed inside of me over and over again, his balls slapping against my ass. Nous trouvons. I sobbed with every thrust, needing more. Des appas.
Léo stared down at me, no more commands leaving his mouth, watching as my body jerked at the force of each invasion. He was fueled by everything about me—my moans, the way my breasts bounce each time he slammed inside my slickness, my pleasure. It was his victory. It was his downfall.
Watching his taut body as it claimed mine added to my desire as I felt a new rush of arousal coat his erection. He’d obliterated whatever hurt existed and replaced it with him. My hips rose to meet each thrust and his grip tilted them slightly so he hit a secret spot inside me that sent fireworks out to every corner of my body.
“Léo…”
His name was my white flag of defeat. Of impending climax.
I felt every muscle in my body tense with the pleasure swelling to erupt. Tighter and tighter. Higher and higher.
His strangled groan harmonized with mine as my body convulsed around him. My climax tore through me mercilessly—just like everything else he did to me. My back bowed to the point that bordered unnatural as the most exquisite pleasure ripped through me. It was as though every cell of my body disintegrated into the finest particles of pleasure.
Léo’s thrusts became more frantic—more frayed. He no longer cared that there was a wall stopping him from getting any farther inside me, instead he rammed against it like he was breaking down the gates. I watched the beauty of him come apart—the bottled up, lonely, broken parts of him reaching for me.
He fell over me and sunk his teeth into my chest right above my left breast, right over my heart. I felt his orgasm tear through him. He ground his cock into me and I felt every hard and steady pulse of him against my stretched muscles. As my core pulled every last drop of desire from him, he bit down into the thin skin of my chest; there would be bite marks left tomorrow. The thrill knowing that he’d marked me erased any inkling of that pain I should have felt.
For a few long moments, we breathed in sync—neither speaking nor moving. Neither of us wanted to admit that we’d given up… given in… and that our need for the other had defeated us.
> Air filled my lungs when Léo pushed off of me. I didn’t realize how quickly and easily my body had become accustomed to having him seated so deeply inside it until he pulled out of me and stood. ‘Merde’ I heard him mumble as he stared down at his cock. I saw the way it was now tinted pink with my blood.
The tick in his jaw was back as he pulled off the condom that looked like it was about to explode and toss it in the garbage can next to the desk.
I pushed myself up to sit, looking down between my thighs. For how much it hurt, I was expecting the Texas Chainsaw Massacre to be left. Thankfully, there was nothing of the sort. Unfortunately, what blood there was soaked and dirtied Léo’s jacket. I didn’t even realize that he had it or put it under me. Then again, I hadn’t realized much of anything that was happening outside of my body.
I stood on shaky legs, greedily drinking in the last few seconds of his sculpted form before he tucked himself back into his pants without a word. Don’t be embarrassed. Swallowing firmly, I stood there naked and waited for him to meet my eyes.
When he did, the primal harshness had returned to them. Bending down, he pulled up his jacket and reached in the pocket. I choked on my breath when he pulled out a handkerchief—damn Frenchman—and crouched in front of me, carefully wiping away the streaks of blood on my thighs.
I winced at the touch, soreness starting to settle in. “Take a warm bath tonight.” It wasn’t a question, but the thick emotion behind it made my heart pound just as hard.
When he stood, it was with my discarded clothes in hand, a not-so-subtle instruction to get dressed. I didn’t miss the way he looked longingly at my tattoo.
Loathing. It was the link between us.
That was the only option I gave myself… the other part of the equation would be much harder to explain.
I tugged on my underwear, knowing they’d be ruined by the time I got home. The silence that should have been awkward, calmed me. It was the awe, the questioning, the wondering—did that just happen? It was the—was that for real? Sometimes the greatest things are too big for words—both the greatest masterpieces and the greatest mistakes. The stillness also sent my mind spinning, and I knew it was doing the same to him. We both lost this battle. Now the gears turned how to retrieve the upper hand.
The Fall of Troy Page 22
