by Belle Ami
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! The exploding light dilated her pupils until all the surrounding blue of her irises disappeared.
After Marc conquered his initial lust, he became a stallion with unending stamina as he hammered her for what seemed like hours. He fucked her from every angle in a dozen positions, each one carefully photographed by John as the intensity of the drugs induced her to climax over and over again. The Ecstasy did its job—she was insatiable—while the LSD removed all reality, masking the rape in pleasure. Flames danced before her eyes. She heard words as if they were in slow motion. In her delirium, she thought Miles was fucking her. She was incapable of coherent speech, so she stopped begging him to stop and just floated on the sensation as if in the delirium of a dream.
Finally, with a roar and a series of rapid thrusts, Marc lost control. “Fuck, baby, you are something.” He shook, emptying himself in her, and with a groan collapsed beside her. His chest heaved as he fought to regain his breath. “Man, that was some premium piece of ass. You got it all, didn’t you? If not, I wouldn’t mind starting over.”
“Get dressed, lover boy. Let’s get out of here. She’s completely passed out. I’ll take a couple of after photos of her feeling no pain, and then I’ll clean her up. Go get dressed.”
“Don’t touch her, John. She’s had enough.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Adelia woke in the morning, naked. Her head throbbed. She shook it, trying to remember last night. The ringing of the phone split her head in two. “Hello, Karolin?”
“Hey, sleepyhead. Are you ready for brunch?”
“What happened last night? My head is pounding, and I can’t remember a thing.”
“Nothing. You had a lot to drink, and you danced.”
“I danced? With whom?”
“Some guys in the bar. You insisted on staying, so I went to bed.”
“I can’t imagine how I got back to my room. I feel terrible, but I’m here, and I guess that is all that matters. I’ll shower, take some Advil, and knock on your door when I’m ready. I’m starving.”
“I’ll have everything loaded into the car while we eat. I called home. The babies are great.”
“Thanks. I miss them.”
“Well, you’ll see them today. Oh, by the way, Miles phoned. He’s on his way back early. He called you, but you must have not heard your cell. Don’t worry; I covered for you. Ciao, bella!”
“Hi, honey. Sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”
“Hmm, sounds good. I wish I was in it with you.”
“Me too. How was your trip? Did you settle down the restless Indians?”
“Not completely, but they’re better than they were when I got here. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. How was the shop till you drop?”
“Exhausting! Your sister is single-handedly keeping the luxury markets afloat.”
“That’s my girl!” Miles laughed in amusement and checked his watch. “Listen, my ETA at Green Way should be about eleven. Don’t wait up for me. I’m exhausted. If I have the strength, I’ll wake you. We’re getting ready to taxi, so I gotta go. Love you, baby.”
Chapter 23
As Adelia’s elevator ascended to the forty-eighth floor of the Bank of America Tower, she pondered the enigmatic quagmire of fate. She knew all too well that there were days that changed the course of one’s life. In her own life, Detective Weiss’s knock on her door when her parents’ car plunged off a canyon road had, for all intents and purposes, ended her childhood. Then her momentous meeting with Miles and their lightning-fast courtship that had led to marriage and the births of Fallyn and Liam had sealed the direction of her adulthood and had altered her seemingly decided career path.
Why did she feel an irrational premonition that today would prove to be one of those life-changing days and that there was some ulterior motive behind Miles’s beckoning her to New York so precipitously? The abruptness of their phone conversation had awakened childlike fears of being reprimanded by a person of authority. She could feel her digestive juices churning in apprehension of what awaited her on the forty-eighth floor. Of course, this was a foolish supposition on her part; Miles had proven to be a more than adoring husband. If anything, he was obsessive in his desire to please and protect her. Still, how else to explain the high drama and secrecy of being asked to drop everything and jump into the limousine that had been dispatched to collect her?
She brushed a tendril of dark hair away from her face and sought a quick glance at her reflection in the brass panel on the elevator wall. She had thrown herself together, but there had been plenty of time in the limo to apply makeup, brush her hair, and dab on some perfume. She had purposely chosen a favorite dress that Miles had made a great deal of fuss over and, of course, the obligatory stilettos that never failed to raise his heart rate. He was so mercurial that it was best to be prepared for anything, even the possibility of being whisked away to some foreign destination.
Several months had passed since the twins’ first birthday, and Miles had been particularly moody in the last week. Preparing herself for bad news, it occurred to her that perhaps through miscalculation Miles had somehow had a terrible reversal of fortune and lost the wealth that he had so determinedly amassed. She could quickly allay his fears of destitution, because her own inheritance would be enough to bankroll a fresh start for them. She would not hesitate to back him if need be. They would have to sell off assets—the jet, for one—but certainly there was enough for them to live well and prosper anew. Yes, this was what marriage was really about—an unwavering dedication to the best interests of the whole, one for all and all for one. She exited the elevator determined to rescue the man she loved.
The offices were empty and silent, except for the persistent ring of a telephone that was answered by the answering system to be recorded and preserved for the following day. She walked through the door leading to the offices and was struck by the ghostly absence of human industriousness. She paused before she opened the doors to the inner sanctum of Miles’s office. Gathering herself, she called, “Honey, I’m here.”
What she saw caused her to freeze. Something was dreadfully wrong. Miles was slumped over, his elbows on the desk and his hands cradling his head. She ran to him, bent her knees, and encircled him with her arms, seeking to comfort him. “Miles, darling, what’s wrong? Are you all right? You’re scaring me. Whatever it is, we can face it together.”
When he lifted his eyes to her, she could see every emotion written as clearly as if he had spoken.
“Don’t touch me!” he hissed.
The words struck her as if he had raised his hand and slapped her. Uncomprehending, she repeated his response in a hoarse whisper. “Don’t touch me?”
They stared at each other, stupefied, as each tried to fathom the thoughts of the other.
“Miles, you need to speak to me, explain what’s going on here. I feel like I’m walking blindfolded through a burning house.”
Seized by anger, he stood, grabbed her shoulders, and lifted her, shaking her like a rag doll. “Tell me, Adelia, what does our marriage mean to you?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Miles, you’re hurting me. I…I can’t answer…I don’t understand…”
His hands fell to his side limply. He turned his back to her and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, as if to better appreciate the view. In reality, he needed to put some distance between them before he did something he might regret. “Answer the question, Adelia.” The pain in his voice was wrenching.
Everything was happening too quickly. Her mind spun like the numbers on a slot machine. She knew he was capable of jealousy, but what kind of nonsense had he fabricated that could torture him so? “Miles, you know that our marriage means everything to me. Why would you ask me such a question? You mean everything to me…I love you.”
He flinched in anguish. Facing her, his eye
s fixed on hers; he walked to the desk and pushed a manila folder toward her.
It was difficult to tear her eyes from his. She glanced down at the desk. What importance could that innocuous object hold for her? Searching his face for an answer, she found only his icy gaze.
Seizing the envelope, she extracted a stack of black-and-white enlargements. Without really focusing, her first impression was that they were a series of art-house, erotic, film-noir stills that had no bearing on what was occurring. She looked at Miles in confusion, but found only seething anger directed at her. She sat in his desk chair and spread the photos out in front of her. With a sudden intake of breath came a realization.
“Oh my God!” She stood, her hand clasped over her mouth, and ran to his bathroom, where she leaned over the toilet and vomited. With the bile came a flood of sobs. How could the woman in the photos be her? She had no recollection. It was impossible. Vanquished and emptied, she stumbled to the sink. The face that stared back at her was ravaged, haunted, and uncomprehending. She splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth. When she returned to the office, Miles was staring at the photographs.
“Have you anything to say?” he hissed.
The voice that croaked out of her didn’t seem to be her own. “Miles, I know you aren’t going to believe me, but I have no knowledge whatsoever of who, what, or how those abominations came to be. I don’t know who that man is. I’ve never seen him before. Someone has contrived to harm us, but I don’t know why or who or how.”
With demented fixation, Miles’s gaze drifted across the evidence. “Adelia, I know your every look. You were in heat, in ecstasy. This isn’t the face of a woman being raped against her will. You enjoyed every minute of his—” His voice broke in anguish.
She was flabbergasted and demoralized. “You can’t believe I would risk losing you! For what, a roll in the hay with some stranger?”
He could feel himself flush with anger anew. “I can’t think what else to believe, and I can’t believe you can stand there, denying what is incontrovertible evidence. Your face in these abominations, as you call them, tells me everything I need to know. I want to kill you, to strangle you. I never loved anything or anyone the way I’ve loved you. How could you destroy what we had? You’re the mother of my children!”
She moved toward him, intent on saving the love that was now threatened. Perhaps she could convince him that she loved him and that the pictures were a lie.
He stood, feeling the heat of anger spread through his body. “Don’t come any closer! I swear I’m going to kill you.”
She didn’t care what he said. She had to try to save her marriage. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed herself against him. Her face was wet with tears as she pressed her lips into his, pleading, “I need you. I love you. You have to believe me, Miles. Those photos are a lie.”
Stiffly he tried to rebuff her, but his desperate hunger to believe her ate at his soul. Her mouth on his melted his resistance, and unable to resist her lips pressed against his, he responded in kind. The taste of her, her words of desire for him, hardened his cock. His hands involuntarily grabbed her ass as he ground himself into her. He wanted to kill her, to put his hands around her neck and squeeze until life left her, but all he could feel was his desire, his lust to possess her once more.
“I swear all I want is to kill you, bitch.” He pulled her skirt up over her ass and felt the silken skin that burned under his touch. Her lace panties were the only thing that stood between him and his fulfillment. Roughly, he ripped them off her and dropped them to the floor. She reached for his belt, unhooked it, and then pulled at his zipper. His lips were locked on hers, his tongue lost deep inside her. Her desperation unleashed a sadistic response from him. He wanted to hurt her, to hear her cry out in pain. The notion of pain and pleasure hardened him. Never had he wanted her more.
He freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and plunged his middle finger inside her. “Oh, God…” he moaned, “you’re so wet, so fucking hot and wet.” He pushed her up on the desk, and she fell back into the pile of photographs, which scattered in every direction. He bent her legs until the stilettos were propped on the desk and savagely pulled her hips toward the edge. Her pupils were dilated and black, clouded with anticipation and fear. With one massive thrust, he impaled her with his fiery rod. Gritting his teeth, his breath ragged, he drove himself into her over and over again. Her panting, told him that she was as aroused as he was. He wanted her to remember this moment for as long as she lived. Fucking her like this was a feeling of omnipotence. This was what she wanted. She needed him to subjugate her, to render her powerless, to punish her. His rapid thrusts opened her as he ravished her.
She grabbed at his chest, unable to stop the intensity of the orgasm that shook her. “Oh…oh…” she screamed. She was lost in exquisite rapture as fragments of light burst around her. “No more…please, no more!”
But he wasn’t nearly done with her. He pulled out of her, his member slick and engorged, dripping with her pleasure. It is the best pain in the world, he thought, as he roughly pulled her up and dragged her out of the office. There was no sound except their ragged breathing and the hum of office machines in sleep mode. He shoved her down the hall and into the conference room, flung the chairs aside, and tore the rest of her clothing from her. He turned her toward the table and pushed her down. The table was cold and unforgiving against her stomach, breasts, and face. She moaned in submission. His cock pressed against her pussy, spreading her as it forced its way into her. Again, he commenced pounding against the cheeks of her ass. He was relentless in his aggression as he slid in and out of her chalice. He was barely aware of her moans as he assaulted her citadel, his groans drowning out everything but the physical excitement that held him enthralled.
How long he fucked her he couldn’t say, but when no end came, he made up his mind that the end could come only through harsher means. He pulled out of her and ran his hand down the length of his staff. There was one act that had always been taboo in their union. One thing he had never asked of her. With unearthly pleasure, he forced himself into her anus, causing her to scream.
To no avail, she pushed against the table, trying to free herself. “No, Miles, stop, stop…it hurts. Stop it now! Don’t do this, Miles!” she cried.
“Relax, baby…it’s good; it’s so good. Don’t fight it. You’re so tight; it won’t last long. Just relax.” He was almost gentle as he eased in and out of her, ignoring her tears and cries. He reached his hand under her and pressed and circled her clitoris. “Come on, baby; come with me. Just like in the pictures. That’s it.” He could feel her swelling and contracting against the tips of his fingers as she came. His back arched in climax as he felt the walls of her anus pulsate uncontrollably. “Oh, my God… yes… yes… ahhhh!” His juices flowed into her as he was racked with spasms and groans. Emptied, he pulled out of her anus his semen pouring from her, and slid to the carpet, pulling her with him. She curled up in a fetal position, and he lay spread-eagle, his chest heaving, his once-powerful phallus shrunken and lifeless.
Once the world stopped spinning, he looked at her. Her eyes were pressed shut, and tears, running black with mascara, outlined the contours of her face and slipped silently onto the carpet. His first impulse was to comfort her, but as the wiring in his brain reconnected, the ugly reality reclaimed him. She had cheated on him in the most sordid way—with a young stud that she claimed she didn’t know. She was a liar and a cheat. Anger swiftly took possession of him. He got up and left the room. Moments later he returned, dressed and carrying her things. “Go to the bathroom, clean up, and get dressed!” It was an order, not a request.
She stumbled down the hallway, her vision blurred with tears that refused to cease. Trembling, she washed her face with cold water. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the washbasin, a stranger stared back at her. Her eyes were empty as was her heart. It wa
s as if she had experienced a death, only to find out that it was really she who had died.
When she returned to the boardroom, he handed her a glass of water. She knew she looked a shambles, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to make the nightmare end. She felt violated and humiliated; her heart was breaking. She took the glass and drank the water.
“Henry is downstairs, waiting to take you to the airport.” Miles averted his eyes. He could hardly look at her.
In confusion, she asked, “Where am I going?”
“The jet is waiting to take you to Santa Barbara. I need to sort this out. In case you haven’t figured out what’s happening, your boyfriend is blackmailing me.”
“But…my babies…I won’t leave my babies.” She implored him, her voice rising with anxiety.
“They’re my babies, too, Adelia. Karolin will take good care of them. They’ll be fine.”
Anger gripped her. “They don’t need Karolin. They need me; I’m their mother.” Her cries began to escalate. “You can’t take my babies, Miles!”
“You should have thought of that before,” he hissed venomously. “Now go!” He pushed her toward the door, and she stumbled.
She turned to him. “I will never let you take my children, Miles. I will fight you! You will never take them from me. I’d rather die.”
His face contorted into a grimace. “Be careful, Adelia; don’t threaten me. I warned you once that I always get what I want. You made a deal with the devil, and now you’ve broken it. I’m afraid the price will be dear. Fight all you want, Adelia; I’ll win in the end. I always do.”
