I love her. I hate her. And only one of us can survive.
14
Zeus
The sky has begun its slow creep toward dawn when James pulls up behind the building. “Three people,” I tell him. “Downstairs. I need—” I need Brigit first. “I’ll be right there.”
He disappears into the office and I take the stairs at a run. Throw the doors open. At the far end of the hall I see a flash of white—her robe. She hardly makes it into the hall before I’m there. Advancing on her, drinking in her wary, hopeful eyes.
“Did you see—”
I cut off this question with a kiss meant to end all kisses. I’m so tired of pretending. I’m so fucking tired of waiting. James still has his job because despite everything he is still capable of pulling together a meeting without handholding and I—
I need this.
Brigit climbs up onto me and hitches her legs around my hips, every muscle so taut she’s almost vibrating. She mumbles something incoherent into my mouth while I walk us into the bedroom and I have to pull her back by her hair to hear what she’s saying. “Don’t leave me here again.”
“Please. I’m leaving you here, sweetheart, where it’s safe.”
I put her down on the bed and undo her robe, pull down her leggings, strip her off her panties. Rid myself of my own clothes. “No, you’re not.”
This earns her a bite to the shoulder and at the last moment she turns her head and bites me back.
It’s an electric pain, sharp and sweet, and it makes a long tense line out of my body and holds on tight. Brigit’s eyes are moonlit and huge and she pulls me down over her, hips bucking to meet mine. “I bit you,” she breathes.
“You naughty fucking thing.” I maneuver her off her back and over my lap for the sheer thrill of it and arch her back by her throat. My instinct is always to push her, to make neat stripes of pain on her skin, but this time, tonight—
I sink my fingers into the wet heat of her and fuck her with them like we’re running out of time.
She digs her toes into the floor, low animal noises escaping her, and Christ, I could do this every night for the rest of my life. Every morning. Every day. A life with her would mean constant attendance to my filthy little whore who is so wet and swollen for me that she’s already on the edge and I am purposely avoiding her clit just to be a bastard.
It gets her off. Brigit comes over my lap, the way she likes it, and lifts her ass to be spanked. I run a palm over her perfect skin and deny her that, too, turning her to face me so she has to balance on me, on the edge of my bed. I want my own feet on solid ground. My cock is hard and proud between us and I guide her up with both hands and position her over me.
Her flushed, hot cheeks remind me viscerally of the whorehouse, of sitting in this same position and making her bring herself off in front of the party. She’s remembering it, too. I know it by the way her eyelashes flutter. It’s almost keening, what she’s doing, so full of longing. Brigit likes an audience. She’ll have to make do with me.
The realization must come to her at the same time I think it, because she opens her eyes and blushes magnificently. I brace myself on the bed with one hand flat on the covers, using the other to guide her hip, to dig my fingers in, to remind her in a thousand ways that she will only ever belong to me.
Brigit sinks down onto me with exquisite, trembling care, taking the first few inches along with short, shallow breaths.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I tell her, rubbing a circle on her hip with my thumb. Her own hips mimic the movement. “Look at you. A shameless slut for my cock.” Brigit blushes a deeper color and takes more of me in, and more, until finally I’m as deep inside of her as I’ll ever get. “Such a good girl, taking that cock.” I lean in and teaser her earlobe with my teeth. “Make yourself come and earn your pay."
Her hand moves quickly between her legs, fingertips seeking out her clit, and I have to catch her from falling backward, she’s working so hard to obey