Chapter Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I’M FINALLY THE ASSHOLE
PAST
T his is revenge sex, I try to convince myself as I sit silently in the back of the sleek black car that came to pick up Abraham and I.
We’re wordless as we make our way to the final destination. Where that was, I couldn’t say. I can’t touch him, can’t look at him, can’t let myself fall into the trap that is his charm.
And once I’m done, I’m gonna walk out of his hotel room and never see him again.
Maybe this is the test I need to see if I’m ready to commit to Peter?
My mind does backflips, trying to condone what it is I’m about to do. I’m not this person. I’ve never been this person.
Heartbreak tainted me. Watching my sister go through her own has bolstered me further into a territory where I don’t want to give any man a single ounce of my power.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks and I close my eyes at the sound of his accent, at the way I used to love it, at the way an Italian word or two would slide into his monologue when he was feeling passionate .
“Why are you in Boston?”
It’s the only safe thing I can think to ask.
“I’m wrapping up a film,” he tells me, and I open my eyes to watch the Boston night sky, tilting my head against the glass window. “If I’m being honest, I was hoping I’d see you here.”
I want to ask him why. I want to remind him of the last time we saw each other. I want to ask him about his ex-wife. I want to demand an apology.
So many things I want to do. But more than that, I want to take from him and leave him with his withered hope.
The car comes to a stop outside the Boston Harbor Hotel, and I continue staring out the window, at the gorgeous building. I’ve driven past it many times, never having been inside.
“Are you ready?” His question is quiet, but not as I quiet as I am, only giving him a nod, not even looking his way.
I hear his door open and before I know it, he’s opening mine, offering his hand to help me out.
Still silent, I take it. And all while we walk through the building, into the elevator, and up to his room, he keeps my hand in his.
It’s a display of affection I wasn’t afforded in the past—one I deigned to accept. One I’m coming apart over.
He wants to kiss, to hold hands, to rehash the past and fall in love all over again.
He wants to make love to me. But I want to fuck him the same way he did my heart.
I’m better with revenge than I am with forgiveness.
We walk into his suite and as he removes his jacket, I peruse the room, ending up at the large window, taking in the view of the harbor.
“I like seeing you here,” he murmurs, and I jump a little, not realizing he was so close. He makes quick work of sliding my jacket off my shoulders and when it hits the floor, I take a deep breath.
“The red is different,” he murmurs before running his fingers along the base of my neck. When I tilt my head to the side to give him access to more skin, he slides his fingers into my hair and grips the strands to keep me still. “I’ve been looking for bright red and all this time, you’ve been hiding under this ginger shade.”
It’s too much.
Why can’t he just fuck me quietly?
In an effort to keep him silent, I turn and kiss him, placing my arms over his shoulders.
Would this be considered our second first kiss? I’ve kissed quite a few people since him, but none as skillful as he is. It’s a thought that makes me still, thinking of Peter.
He feels me stiffen and pulls back to look into my eyes.
“What is it, Stellina ?” I shove him toward the bed, and he stands there, watching me.
“Stop talking,” I murmur before I step back, yanking my blouse from where my waistband anchors it. He watches with hooded eyes, leaning back against the footboard of the bed as I step out of my heels.
I note the way his brows rise at the sight of one of the heels tipping over to reveal its red bottom.
Yes, I’m a whole different bitch.
Maybe it’s the vengeance fueling me. Maybe it’s the men I’ve learned from in the years since he’s known my body. Maybe it’s familiarity of his desire; a feeling I couldn’t forget no matter how hard I tried.
I want to be in control. I need to be.
But, God , I’ll lose control if he keeps talking to me.
“Get on the bed,” I instruct, my fingers dancing over his chest before I push at his unyielding frame. But he relinquishes control, sitting on the bed before leaning back, his elbows hitting the mattress.
I hike up my skirt, pulling at my panties, loving the way his gaze follows them down to the floor.
I pick up the scrap of red and place it on the bed beside him before unbuttoning my blouse and letting the silk fall to the floor, kicking it to the side.
“You’re exquisite,” he starts, but I shake my head, approaching the bed and placing my index finger over his lips.
“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to keep your mouth occupied.” His lips part as my finger slides down before entering his mouth. His tongue swirls around it and I bite at my bottom lip, placing one knee on the bed. He reaches up, his hands settling on my hips to pull me down flush against him.
When I remove my finger from his mouth, I use my other hand to push him flat against the bed. He places his hands over his head, and I start hiking my skirt up again, loving the feeling of my bare sex against the fabric of his pants.
Before I can second guess my sexual prowess, I’m dragging my body up his. His eyes, alight with realization, shimmer with excitement as he helps me up. His hands slide up my bare thighs and I hitch over my next breath as he sweeps his fingertips over me.
I can barely think before he’s gripping me tighter and yanking me toward him, so his mouth meets my pussy. One lick, two, slow strokes before he begins eating me mercilessly.
It’s so electric, so shocking, I grip his hair and toss my head back.
I ride his face with wild abandon toward my inevitable orgasm. When one of his hands slips up, toward my ass, I grip his face tighter between my thighs.
He presses his thumb against me, and I lean forward, bracing the headboard as I cry out in a primal ecstasy that I could never achieve with anyone else.
I fall into the abyss of my orgasm and cry out, unable to catch my breath.
After a moment, I realize that if I don’t move, I’ll likely smother him. I sit back on his chest, watching his glossy grin.
“I could taste you every day, Stellina ,” he says before licking his lips as if he can’t get enough of my flavor. And I close my eyes at the promising tone of his words, hating how he can so easily make words sound so meaningful. Even when I know he’s full of shit.
I grab my abandoned panties and shove them in his mouth.
“I told you to stop talking,” I huff out, pushing my hair away from my face.
Leave it to Abraham to take anything I give him without a moment’s hesitation.
“Shut up and fuck me,” I whisper, emboldened by his silence. He doesn’t say anything as he flips me over and yanks my skirt up.
He smacks my ass just as he enters me, gripping the back of my bra and I cry out when it snaps against me just as he enters me again.
As my body moves with each thrust, the ruined lace slides down my arms and his hands have moved to my hips, creating a punishing rhythm.
It’s like he’s trying to fuck any other sexual experience from my body.
Trying to fuck himself into my soul.
Trying to make sure I never forget him. Or forget fucking him.
Hours later, I’m staring at his sleeping body from the end of the bed. I stand there naked for a moment, wondering how, even with minimal romance, he was able to get in my head.
How can I still love him, after all this time?
A silent tear escapes, and I wipe it before I begin gathering my things. At the sound of shuffling on the bed, I glance back at him.
He turns over, his arm splaying out, almost like he’s reaching for me. But I can’t let the romantic in me find the holes in my armor. I can’t let him in again.
That’s the thing about pain; it shapes you. It changes you.
Careful to stay quiet, I tiptoe across the room, picking up my heels along the way. My fingers find the cold doorknob and I look back at him, wishing I had the strength to leave without doing so. But I allow myself the weakness before stepping out into the hall.
I’m finally the asshole he always wanted me to be.