Chapter 10
In her dream, Lila wakes to a tall, merciless stranger between her legs, his large, menacing appendage trying to bury itself inside her.
Her limbs feel heavy, her body too exhausted to fight.
His statuesque frame looms over her, making her feel small and utterly at his mercy.
He grips her thighs behind the knees and yanks her roughly, dragging her down the unfamiliar bed.
He impales her, forcing her to take inch after inch of his hard pole.
She clamps her legs around his moving hips to stop him, but he easily pries them apart and burrows deeper.
Her whole body aches, sore as if she clawed her way out of the darkest depths of hell… only for the Devil himself to find her and drag her back down.
He punishes her in the cruelest way imaginable, claiming her mind and body until nothing exists beyond him.
All she can see, hear, and feel is him. She loses herself in the violent pleasure he forces upon her, torn between loathing and need.
She loathes the loss of control, yet her body welcomes him anyway.
Her body arches, clings, and aches for the twisted ecstasy he gives her while something inside quietly dies. Logic, perhaps.
She is tight around him, gripping his shaft with what little strength remains.
He pulls out, and before she can register the sudden emptiness, his large hand pins both of her wrists above her head. His hot, needy tongue drags along the valley between her breasts, making her shudder and quake beneath him, the space between her legs pulsing with desperate need.
He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting, each wicked sensation sending electrifying currents through her entire body.
His free hand squeezes and kneads her soft flesh without mercy, shaping her to his grip until he finally releases her swollen, throbbing nipple.
He gives it a quick, almost tender bite before shifting to torment the other.
She growls and whines at the overload of sensation, her body twisting beneath him. She tries to wrench her wrists free, desperate to push him away and stop the assault on her tender breasts, but he only tightens his grip and devours her more hungrily.
Then he eases off at last, granting her a brief breath of relief. It lasts only a heartbeat before he sheaths himself inside her again, forcing a raw groan from her throat.
He plunges into her repeatedly, his speed rising with each stroke until she can do nothing but take him.
His other hand torments her clit, his thumb working devastating circles as he ravages her, pushing her closer to the edge.
With her hands restrained in his crushing grasp, she can do nothing but endure the overwhelming pleasure until she finally erupts.
Her back arches, and her body goes rigid.
Devastating shockwaves crash through her as she thrashes violently beneath him, consumed by the force of her release.
Seeing that she’s distracted and lost in the throes of her splintering climax, he releases her hands and wraps his fingers around her throat.
The sudden pressure takes her by surprise.
She stiffens, her high fading as reality snaps back into focus.
Though it doesn’t hurt, the pressure along her throat unsettles her, tightening something deep in her chest.
With quick, rough thrusts, he comes, his powerful, throbbing shaft unleashing hot ropes of release deep inside her, dragging out the last waves of her climax.
The walls of her tight, flooded tunnel pulse around him as if rewarding the cock that has forcefully invaded and claimed her.
Her vision, already unfocused and hazy, collapses into darkness.
Wide awake, Max finds it hard to sleep with her sound asleep in his arms, her face nestled against his bare chest.
Her skin feels cold yet heavenly soft against his own. In hopes of warming her, he wraps his arms around her tighter beneath the heavy comforter.
Her gentle breaths seem to mirror his heartbeat. That thought fills him in a strange, overwhelming way. The feeling both thrills and unnerves him.
Hours later, perched silently in an armchair across the room, Max watches as morning light filters through the windows, casting a warm glow that dances across her bare skin.
He should be exhausted after the night they shared, yet he feels sharply awake, wired from his morning workout and the lingering thrill of having her here, tucked into his bed.
A quiet pulse of anticipation rises as she begins to stir. He wants her awake, fully aware of him, ready to continue what they started last night—or to curl against him over a warm breakfast in bed. Or both, if he has his way.
More than anything, he wants to hear her giggles again, feel her lips soften beneath his as her hands caress his face.
But as she sits up and their eyes meet, she quickly pulls the comforter close around her bare body before slipping quietly off the bed.
Barefoot and utterly naked, wrapped in his large comforter, her petite frame looks even smaller in the daylight than it did the night before, when he brought her home in heels. Her eyes flicker nervously across the room before settling on him.
“Where are my clothes, and, um, my phone?” she asks hesitantly, wrapping the comforter tighter around herself as if shielding herself from his intense gaze.
Max wants to tell her she doesn’t need them because he knows she’s searching for a way to quickly get dressed and leave.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she says, grimacing.
“Let’s go wash up. I’ll find something you can wear.”
She sighs. Leaving the comforter behind like a discarded shield, she trails after him into the cold bathroom, arms crossed tightly over her bare chest. He turns on the shower with practiced detachment, steam rising as he finally looks back at her, unreadable.
He can’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at her reluctance to meet his gaze. She stands before him, tentative, eyes darting as if searching for an escape route. The air crackles with unspoken tension.
Surging forward, he seizes her wrists, pulling them apart so that she stands bare before him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she cries, trying to back away, but his unyielding grip is as solid as steel.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” he says calmly, loosening his hold just slightly. “I’ve seen every inch of you anyway.”
“You’re a real bastard,” she huffs, pulling free. “I’m leaving.”
“Without any clothes?”
“What the hell is wrong with you, Asshole?”
The sharpness of her voice stirs something in him unwelcome. His expression flattens as he meets her gaze without flinching. He had pictured a calm, agreeable morning after last night, but clearly, that’s not going to happen.
The muscle in his jaw clenches as he closes the small gap she created. He yanks her against his chest, and her breath catches as she stares up at him, wide-eyed and tense, unsure what comes next.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he says, his voice low and steady, laced with quiet warning as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But, Lila,” he whispers, “you should know by now that I get everything I want, whenever I want. So, let’s try for a pleasant morning, please.”
He knows he’s long since crossed the line of decency and that she has every right to hate him.
And yet, something in him can’t let go. Not yet. Not when he still craves so much of her.
He’s been trying to justify everything in his head. She had kissed him first. She had chosen to leave that party with him. She had willingly walked into the monster’s pit and embraced him.
“You sound so spoiled,” she snaps, trying to wrench her wrist from his grasp, but he doesn’t budge.
“Not spoiled. Honest,” he replies with a slight shrug. The new Max conquers every obstacle in his path without exception. “I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Delusional,” she utters, her tone dripping with disdain. “Stop jerking on my wrists.”
He lets go, the corners of his lips twitching into a small, almost imperceptible smile. Aside from the name-calling, her feistiness is starting to grow on him.
He tests the water with his free hand, confirming it’s warm enough. Then, without hesitation, he nudges her into the massive walk-in shower and begins stripping out of his workout clothes.
He steps in after her, steam curling around them, and wraps his arms around her from behind. The cascade of hot water pounds his skin, loosening the tension in his muscles. He hopes it’s doing the same for her, though she still feels stiff in his hold.
Her petite frame pressed against his feels unexpectedly right. She fits effortlessly into the space he makes for her, and he feels reluctant to let go.
Lila can’t help but marvel at her surroundings.
Being inside his spacious shower is like stepping into another world.
The soft, warm lighting, the marble veined with striking gold, the matte black fixtures, and the neatly arranged bath products in matching bottles—all evoke the luxury hotel suites she’d admired in photos and films. She quietly wonders if her tiny bedroom and closet could even fit inside this bathroom.
Her eyes drift to the nearby modern slipper tub. She imagines it filled to the brim with warm bubbles, delicate rose petals floating on the surface.
“Would you have preferred a bath?” he asks softly, noticing her gaze.
“No,” she replies with a slight scoff, stepping away. She wonders bitterly why he is pretending to care about what she wants now.
Inside his shower, warm water cascades over every inch of her from all directions.
She peeks at him from beneath thick lashes, watching warily as he works body wash between his hands.
Before she can step away, he pulls her against his chest. His soapy hands glide down her body, pausing briefly to caress her ass.
She begins to push him away, but he shushes her, continuing to wash every inch of her skin with deliberate care.