by Geneva Lee
She continued to gawk at me, but I saw the smirk playing at her lips. "You've never pulled that card before."
"What card?" I asked innocently.
"Don't be coy with me. The Alexander card. Or should I call it the X card?"
I shrugged. "Why shouldn't I pull it? I've had half of my life dug up and printed on the covers of magazines. I might as well skip the line."
"I'm not sure what to think of this new Clara Bishop," Belle said slowly. "Where did she come from?"
"Probably from half a bottle of bourbon," I said truthfully.
"Then let's get you another drink before she disappears." Belle laughed as she dragged me toward the bar. "I think I rather like her."
So did I. I hadn't felt this confident for a long time, but tonight I knew I was sexy and powerful and I wasn't afraid to show it. It could be the liquid courage, but the truth plucked at me from deep in my chest. I'd spent the last ten weeks believing that I'd been wrong about everything that had happened between Alexander and me. That it was all a lie. It wasn't reading his letters that made the difference now. It was knowing the truth. He wanted me. What happened between us had been real—might still be real. I wasn't still that stupid girl falling for a guy like Daniel, who had never cared about me. Although I wasn't sure my taste in men was getting any better.
Of course, Alexander's feelings were still up for debate. Maybe it was the bourbon heating my blood or the subliminal messages in his letters, but I had no doubt that he cared for me.
None of that meant that we could work things out. It just meant that I wasn't crazy. At least, I hoped it did.
Belle handed me a shot and I laughed to see her hair was already sticky on her scalp and her eyeshadow smudged. I probably didn't look much better actually.
"To the new Clara!" she shouted over the pulsing music of the club. I nodded and threw back the shot.
Belle grabbed my shooter and slammed it on the bar before pulling me out to the dance floor.
Brimstone took its name from hell, and it was nearly as hot in here. The floor was packed with a cluster of sweaty bodies fighting to the music, and every few seconds someone would crash into me. I didn't care. Belle and I danced closely together, drawing the attention of more than a few men around us. When a handsome blond pressed against me, circling hips into my backside, I grinded against him, lost to the music. It infected my blood and took control of my body. Belle stayed close, wrapping an arm protectively around my neck. I knew she wanted to let me know she was there if I needed an out, but that was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted to do was dance. I wanted to slip away into the pulsing storm of the music.
I wanted to be free.
How long would that last? I pushed the thought out of my head, refusing to let it affect my mood. The only thing that mattered was this moment, and it was nearly perfect.
It was only missing one thing.
I turned away from Belle and met the eyes of the stranger we were dancing with and waved to him, pushing back against Belle so that we could disappear into the crowd. He raised his hands, giving me a pitiful face, but I shook my head. He wasn't bad looking, but there was no way to pretend anyone could fill the hollow part of me. Suddenly, a hand yanked the man back.
Belle's fingers closed over my arm as Alexander stepped forward and shoved the stranger into the crowd. Before a fight broke out, a suited man appeared and guided the man I'd been dancing with toward the bar. The stranger threw glares over his shoulders but didn't resist.
If it weren't for Belle's fingers digging into my arm, I would have thought I was dreaming. I tugged away from her but didn't move toward him. Alexander and I stood there, separated by barely a breath, and stared each other down. His gaze pierced through me, igniting my already heated blood. Around us, strangers continued to dance and music pounded, but there was only him.
I glanced behind me, breaking eye contact for a precious second to allow myself a clear head. Belle raised her eyebrows and I gave her a reassuring smile. When I turned, he was still there. He wasn't a dream. He was flesh and bone. Blood and heat. Protector and tormentor.
My beautifully flawed X.
I was frozen to the spot. All he had to do was sweep me off my feet and throw me over his shoulder. I wouldn't resist him.
He didn't move. Instead, he extended his hand—a small gesture, but one laced with meaning. He was giving me a choice. I could accept his hand and walk out of here with him. Or I could turn away. But staring into his eyes, his hand outstretched and waiting, I knew the truth.
There was never a choice.
Chapter Four
As soon as the door slid shut behind us, Alexander was on me. I barely had time to register the familiar surroundings before he shoved up my skirt, crushing his lips against mine as we tangled together. I’d been in this room before, fighting my attraction to him. I’d come for an explanation and discovered something dark lurking behind his sexy, brooding facade. He had fascinated me then. He still fascinated me, but now my head spun from the bourbon and from the change of circumstance.
And from him. Oh god, from him.
My fingers clutched his hair as he pressed me to the wall, and I didn’t resist when he gripped my panties and tore them away. My sex reacted, swelling under his dominance, knowing exactly what came next. Everything about Alexander—his scent, the brush of the next-day stubble on his jaw, the firm grip of his fingers kneading into my hips—made me wet, as though my body had been conditioned to prepare for his cock.
But even as my body responded willingly, the tiny voice in my head tried to control me, too, reminding me of the risk I was taking. Alexander was fire—white-hot and blazing. His touch smoldered, igniting my body until my arousal couldn’t be contained. I would let him take me anywhere. Anytime. But playing with fire also meant getting burned, and Alexander had burned me before. There was no way I would walk out of here unscathed.
I wasn’t thinking clearly. I couldn’t think clearly—not with him around. Still one question kept peeking through the haze that clouded my judgment: why was he here? But with his lips on me, trailing down my neck until his teeth bit hungrily into my shoulder, I didn’t care. I was here with him, and for the first time in months, I felt complete.
I felt alive.
My skin even responded sensitively to his more chaste touches. The back of his hand caressing the length of my arm sent desire pooling between my legs. A brush of his lips across my cheek made me moan. We were as in tune as ever, but our connection was on overload. Too long had passed since we’d touched, and no lingering doubt or fear seemed capable of checking my body. I was drawn to him out of pure instinct and primal lust. I couldn’t say no to him now.
Because I couldn’t say no to myself.
“Do you remember the last time we were here, poppet?” The low rasp of his voice sent a tremor of anticipation running through me. “I wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until you begged me to stop.”
I whimpered as his hand slipped between my legs. I wanted him to fuck me now. Fuck me before I could talk myself out of it. Fuck me until I couldn’t remember how to beg. Fuck me hard until I forgot my objections.
Alexander’s finger traced my seam and my sex clenched involuntarily, aching for contact. “Tell me what you need, Clara. Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers? Or my mouth? Or my cock?” His mouth dropped to nibble on my ear. “Give me your order of preference, because I plan to do all three.”
Yes, please.
“I want to feel you inside me,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I struggled to produce words. All I could think of was him touching me. How had I survived without his touch?
His breath hitched and his eyes found mine. They blazed with unrepressed carnality, piercing me through the heart. Neither of us spoke as he freed his cock. Instead we stared at each other, questions mixing with passion in our gazes. But when his hard length nudged against my swollen cleft, my eyes closed involuntarily, savoring the moment.
“Wait.”
The word was a plea on my lips. It had been too long.
“You’re so tight. There’s been no one to look after your beautiful cunt,” he murmured, stroking the crest of his cock along my seam. “Have you been touching yourself?”
I shook my head, which only made the world spin faster. I couldn’t think. Had I? Only this afternoon. Only when I read his letters. I paused, considering this, and nodded.
“Your pleasure is mine,” he growled. He pulled away. My desperate whimper turned to a gasp when his hand pushed against my sex, gripping it possessively. “This is mine.”
I nodded again, even as tears of frustration pricked at my eyes. My eyes opened, searching his. If I was his, why hadn’t he come after me? Why had he sent me letter after letter? Letters that had aroused me. His words had twisted me. His words had unraveled me–unraveled my resistance.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re mine.”
He didn’t need to hear it. He already knew the truth. No matter what he did. No matter the pain or loss I experienced because of him, I would always be his. He had invaded me—infected me—the moment we met, and I couldn’t get him out of my blood. “I have always been yours.”
Alexander dropped his forehead to mine, abnormally silent. Usually he wanted to hear more. Usually he commanded me to say his name, to repeat his possessive promises—he craved the control. He’d had so little of it in his life. He’d been young when his mother died, and he’d been there the night of his sister’s death. He’d had no power to stop either. Just as he had no power to change who he was born to be and the role he was destined to play as the King of England. His desire to dominate came from a need for control. Control over me. Control over our relationship. Control over his feelings.
It was up to me to show him that he couldn’t control love. My body submitted readily to him, but I wasn’t ready to allow him to dominate me completely. I shoved his hand off my cunt, pushing him away as I did so. His head tilted to the side, watching me with a calculating look. He was a predator and I was his prey.
But this prey wasn’t about to lie back and wait to be pounced upon.
I slid my hand down my navel in a slow, deliberate motion before dipping my index finger between my legs. Finding my clit, I rubbed small circles over the aching bud. Alexander’s eyes hooded as he watched me and I let a moan escape my lips, as aroused by the precious contact as I was by putting on a show for him. Frustrated pleasure built in my core. I wanted to spill over. I wanted to show him that I could take myself to the edge without him. I wanted to show him that I was still in control. Maybe I needed to prove that I was to myself.
But even as my limbs tightened, I wanted him more. My sex ached to be spread and stretched by his cock.
“I love watching you touch yourself, poppet,” he rasped in a low voice that sent a shiver racing down my spine. His hand fisted his thick shaft as his mouth curved into the smug grin that drove me wild. “Two can play this game.”
He stroked his shaft violently, drawing a thick bead of pre-cum to its magnificent crown. I groaned at the sight, my pleasure building to its apex and crashing through me. My legs trembled, buckling involuntarily as I fucked myself for him. It was delicious and wanton to feel his gaze fixed on me as I came in front of him.
Without touching me, he’d taken me—with his eyes, with his brutal sensuality, with his mere presence. It made me want him even more. Despite my release, my sex throbbed, aching to be filled.
“Not enough,” he said, edging closer to me. He pushed my legs back apart and slid a finger along my slit. My body responded defensively. My thighs clamped together, trapping his hand. “You’re all wet from teasing me. Slippery and ready. Do you want more?”
My ability to speak vanished along with my resistance. His fingers delved inside my cleft. One. Two. Three. He fucked me slowly, plunging in and out as his thumb circled around my tender clit. It was too much. It was always too much with him.
“Do you want more?” he repeated in a soft voice, but there was an edge to it. He was back in control, and when my eyes found his I saw a familiar darkness creeping into them. It thrilled me as much as it terrified me. My desire to control the situation—to prove something—evaporated, lost to the darkness reflected in his crystal blue irises. “That’s better, isn’t it? Losing yourself to me?”
I nodded, my mouth going dry. Everything made sense when he took charge. I felt alive, wanted, and more than anything, safe. It was the rest of the time–when we had to be fully clothed—that made me doubt our relationship. Not that we had a relationship. Not anymore.
“I want to rip off this pathetic excuse for a dress,” he said, drawing me back to the moment. His fingers stroked and twisted, pushing deeper than I thought possible.
“What will I wear out of here? The paparazzi will have a field day,” I breathed, but I knew that I wouldn’t stop him if he tried. My muscles constricted, winding tight as wire, as he leisurely fingered me. Then he was gone and my eyes flew open with panic.
“Shh, poppet.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes as his other hand guided the head of his cock to my slick entrance. My sex throbbed as he pushed the tip in, but he held it there. “Such a greedy cunt. I can feel it trying to milk me. It wants to be fucked, doesn’t it? Tell me how much you need to be fucked.”
I shook my head, unable to speak. My teeth sank into my lower lip, my eyes pleading with him.
“Do you want to be fucked?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whimpered.
“That wasn’t so hard. You only have to ask, Clara, and I’ll give it to you. I’m going to fuck you and watch my cum drip down your thighs as I take you home.” Alexander brushed his lips behind my ear, leaning in to whisper, “And when I get you home, I’m going to strip this off and fuck your tits and your mouth. I’m going to cover your body with me.”
His words sank in through the drug-like haze permeating my brain. I couldn’t go home with him. Not until we talked. Not until I knew things would be different. “We have to talk, X,” I forced myself to say. “I can’t go home with you until we talk.”
He stilled but didn’t withdraw. “But you want me to fuck you now?”
“Yes,” I said too quickly.
Alexander’s head dropped, breaking eye contact, but his cock slid further in. “You want this?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I have to know you’re mine, Clara,” he demanded.
The desire pooling in my core ratcheted into a frenzy. My body eager to do anything he asked. My lips ready to say what he needed to hear. But I clung to my resolve. It couldn’t be that simple. Once I was in his bed, there would be no turning back. “You hurt me.”
“And you left,” he reminded me harshly.
With the little bit of self-command I had remaining, I pushed him gently away. Alexander’s hands caught my wrists in one fluid motion and pinned them to the wall behind me. My resolve faded more as he dominated me, but I fought the urge to submit.
“I still can’t be your secret,” I told him in a soft voice.
“You aren’t my secret, Clara,” he said. “You are my treasure. The one good, beautiful light I have in my life.”
“And you want to hide me away?” I guessed.
“I want to protect you.” He pressed closer, bringing his rock hard chest into contact with my overly-excited body. The effect was electric. My skin crackled and sang where it met his. My nipples hardened to sensitive points while the rest of my body softened and molded to his athletic form. His tip pushed a little further in, but not enough to satisfy the fire smoldering through me. “Come home.”
“We don’t have a home.” A pang shot through my chest as I said it. Didn’t I want to be with him? I’d spent the last two months dying a little each day. Now I was pushing him away again.
Because you have to.
“We could, and I can’t fuck you until you agree to come home,” he said, but he didn’t withdraw. He left his cock inside my pulsing sex, tor
turing me.
“For how long, X? Until your family marries you off?”
Alexander froze. Then he exhaled raggedly and released his hold on my wrists.
I was still pinned to the wall. My body and my mind warred with each other. Each certain that the other was wrong. “It was a mistake to come here.”
Why had I come here? Because I’d had too much to drink—or because I was desperate to see him. I knew now how this was going to end. All I wanted now was to return to my flat and cry away the pain of losing him again.
“You’ve barely left your flat in weeks,” he said, dropping his lips to my neck. He cruised along the delicate skin, sending flutters of desire swirling through my belly and annihilating my resistance. “You can’t make this go away by working or hiding from life. You can’t make us go away.”
My mouth fell open. I hadn’t seen Alexander in months except when he graced the cover of a tabloid or popped up on a gossip blog. But he had seen me. How often? “You’ve been following me,” I accused.
“I had Norris assign a detail to you—for your protection,” he added, but it didn’t make his confession any easier to swallow. He backed away from me then, leaving me empty and unsatisfied as he shoved his rock hard erection into his slacks.
I missed his touch immediately, want coursing through me. Alexander was like an addiction that I couldn’t kick even as he proved, once again, how unhealthy our relationship was. “I don’t need to be protected. I don’t need to be followed.”
“What do you need then, Clara?” he roared.
His sudden burst of anger scared me and I stumbled toward the door. “I need you.”
“And you have me.” He took a step closer to me but stopped himself. “So why can’t I need you? Why won’t you let me need you?”
“Because you can’t,” I said flatly. We could pretend we lived in a world where titles and money and politics didn’t matter. Maybe they didn’t for most people. But Alexander was not most people. That was part of what made him so extraordinary, but it was also what made him untouchable.
