Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Christine
“Not happening.” I move, my foot stamps hard against the floor before I even realize I’m doing it. “Screw you.”
Then I turn and dash for the bathroom like a door between us will make his words disappear.
It doesn’t.
Nothing about this disappears.
The bathroom light floods on the second I step in, too bright at first, bouncing off white marble that extends across the floor and climbs halfway up the walls.
Gold trims cut through it, lining the mirror, the edges of the sink, the handles that gleam like they’ve never been touched. The glass shower sits to the side, spotless, exposed, like everything in here is meant to be seen.
Everything is too clean.
Too open.
Like there’s nowhere to hide.
I grip the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection, my chest heaving too fast, my lips parted, my skin still flushed from his words.
My stomach drops.
Oh my God.
The realization hits me so suddenly that I physically jerk back from the mirror.
He saw.
Heat floods my face, humiliating, crawling down my neck, twisting into my chest like something suffocating.
My fingers clench around the sink as it all crashes in at once: every sound I made, every movement, every second I thought I was alone.
I let out a shaky breath, but it doesn’t help anything.
It makes it worse.
“God…” I whisper, dragging a hand over my face.
How long was he watching?
My mind tries to piece it together, tries to track back, and I don’t want it to. I don’t want to know which parts he saw, how much of me he has already taken without even touching me.
And the worst part is how my body reacts to being watched by him.
Even with the shame sitting in my chest, twisting my guts, there's something else underneath it.
Something hot.
Something that makes my stomach drop for a completely different reason.
Something that makes my sex throbs.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
No.
No, no, no.
“What is wrong with me?” I breathe out, pacing, my bare feet cold against the marble.
I should be disgusted. I am disgusted. But it’s tangled.
I push off the sink, shaking my head like I can physically throw the thought out of it.
I’m not doing this.
I squeeze my eyes tighter, breathing out slowly, trying to gather something solid, something that feels like me again.
Because I should be terrified.
I am terrified.
But my body doesn’t care. It reacts anyway.
The tingling feeling spreads fast after that, licking through me, spilling into my core, then everywhere, until my whole body feels like it’s on fire.
I press my legs together but it only makes it worse.
This is what he’s done. This is what he's reduced me to. To a body that reacts before I can think, before I can decide, before I can even want it properly.
And the worst part is that it's not stopping.
It’s building.
But I will fight this. I will fight him.
As if on cue, the door opens. And I stop pacing, spinning toward it.
Robert is there.
And if I wasn’t so repulsed by how much my body yearns for him, I’d say he’s breathtaking.
Leaning against the door like he didn’t rush, like he didn’t have to. Like he knew I wouldn’t go far.
Not that there’s anywhere to go. The bathroom is all surface and reflection. Marble, glass, light, with no corners deep enough to disappear into. No door that leads anywhere but back to him.
And still, I didn’t run. I didn’t look for another way out. Didn’t think to. Didn’t even try.
Because it’s not just that I can’t leave. It’s that… some part of me didn’t want to.
“Get out.” I flare immediately, my voice covering up for my shame. “I said get out.”
He doesn’t move or even pretend to.
His eyes move over me slowly, taking in everything I forgot to cover properly in my rush, everything I suddenly feel too exposed in.
“You ran,” he lets out, like it’s an observation, not an accusation.
“I left,” I correct, lifting my chin slightly. “There’s a difference.”
“Not really.”
“Wow.” I let out a short, discrediting laugh. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” The way he says it so unbothered, irritates me more.
“Who do you think you are?” I continue, my voice rising again. “You think you can just claim a night like I don’t have a say in it?”
“I gave you a say.”
“Don’t twist it,” I fire back. “That wasn’t a choice. That was pressure dressed up nicely.”
“And yet you’re still here.” His pupils dilate.
“I’m here because I don’t have a choice,” I shoot back quickly.
“You do.”
“Oh, really?” I step closer, anger pushing me forward now. “Because from where I’m standing, this feels very much like I don’t.”
“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to…” He pushes off the doorframe. “I won’t bend you over that sink, take you from behind while you watch yourself in the mirror… if you don’t want me to.”
My breath catches.
I gulp.
The image hits anyway, my mind betraying me before I can shut it down.
Me, right there, reflected back at myself, held in place, struggling, not to get away but because I don’t know how to hold all of it at once.
The intensity of it. The loss of control.
The way it would take over until there’s nothing left but feeling.
Heat rushes through me, and I hate it. I hate that I see it so clearly. I hate that my body reacts before I can think.
He closes the distance, step by step, his gaze fixed on me, studying, reading, like he’s watching every flicker of it pass through my face.
And I know he sees every single part I’m trying to hide.
“You want me to.” He leans forward, his voice like warm honey, dripping through me. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
My teeth catch my lower lip, my breath unsteady as I put space between us, one step back, then another.
“That’s it?” He chuckles, satisfied, like he’s just uncovered something buried. “Consensual non-consensual?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I push out quickly, already moving, already trying to get past him before he can see too much.
I almost make it.
Almost.
His hand closes around my wrist, pulling me back before I can take another step.
“What are you…” My sentence doesn’t finish.
He moves too fast.
One second I’m upright, the next I’m bent over the sink, the cold marble pressing against me as my hands are pulled back, twisted together, locked behind me before I can even think to fight it properly.
A gasp leaves me.
“Robert…”
“You can tell me no.”
The word is right there, within reach. Easy. Simple. All I have to do is say it.
But I don’t.
“Get away from me,” I cuss, but my voice isn’t loud enough.
“The magic word is no.” He jerks me upright so I see myself in the mirror.
Wild. Untamed. Aroused.
“Let me go…” I struggle.
“Tell me no.” He presses his hardness against my butt and I bite down on a moan. “Say it, and I will let you go, put you on the next flight out of Las Vegas.”
“Get your hands off me.”
He holds my gaze in the mirror as his free hand cups my hips.
“Plump.” His hand drags up my stomach, stopping on the full swell of my breast. “Ripe.”
His hand slips around to my back, fingers finding the clasp of my bra, undoing it with practiced ease.
“Don’t you…”
My words die the moment his hand returns, cupping my breast, firm, possessive, his fingers clipping as he twists my nipple.
A sharp breath leaves me.
“There it is,” he purrs, satisfied, like he’s been waiting for that exact reaction. “That sound.”
My fingers curl against his hardness, my body arching despite myself.
“You fight it,” he continues, his voice brushing against my ear, arousing. “But your body… it gives you away every time.”
“Go away.” I shake my head, breath sloppy. “Stop talking…”
“Why?” He pinches my nipple, hard enough to pull another reaction from me. “You don’t like hearing it?”
I swallow, because I do. And that makes it worse.
“You feel it,” he goes on, raspier now. “The way you respond before you can think. The way you lean into it even when you tell yourself not to.”
My reflection stares back at me, flushed, undone, nothing like the version of myself I recognize.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he finishes, his voice dropping. “I already know what you want, Bonbon.”
“Don’t call me that…” I bite out.
“Are you wet?” He ignores me.
“In your dreams,” I fire back.
He chuckles, like he doesn’t believe a word of it. His hand releases my hard nipple, dragging down to my thong, and just when I think he’s about to slip beneath it… He rips it.
“Get…” I struggle harder, my legs snapping shut as I fight to get away from him, pushing, twisting, anything to break free.
“Say the word.” He pins me with his body, one leg forcing mine apart, his hand coming down, cupping my sex, taking the truth straight from me.
Yeeeeeees.
I melt against him, my eyes shutting.
His hand stays there, holding, knowing.
I feel it in the way my body reacts instantly, like there’s no point denying it anymore, like everything I tried to fight has already given in.
My breath breaks.
“Still want to lie?” he murmurs, almost amused.
I shake my head, but it’s weak, undone, my body already moving before I can stop it, chasing the feeling, leaning into him without meaning to.
“You like this?” He strokes my clit, and I bite down on a moan. “Or this?” He circles it, and I almost combust.
His fingers slip inside me… One, two, three.
I gasp, my hips moving shamelessly now, chasing, needing, every nerve lit up and pulling me deeper.
“Say yes…” He curves his fingers inside me. “Say yes, Christine. Let me make this the best night of your life…”
He starts to move his fingers, then it turns rapid, vibrating jerks that hit my G-spot and explode pleasure through my senses.
My breath comes in broken pieces, my head dropping forward as the feeling builds, dragging everything inside me to one unbearable point.
I’m right there.
Right at the edge.
Screaming my lungs out.
And then… It’s gone.
I freeze, the sudden absence hitting harder than anything else, my body still chasing something that’s no longer there.
“Yes… yes, please, yes.” The words fall out of me, desperate, my body still reaching for what I just lost.
“Yes, what?”
I swallow, my pride cracking under the heap of pleasure.
“Yes… fuck me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
In one swift move, his fly is undone. I’m bent over, my legs pushed wider, leaving me open, exposed in a way that makes my breath catch.
He presses his shaft against me, dragging through the slickness like he’s taking his time even now.
I push back into him, unable to help it, needing it, wanting every beat of what he promised.
“So desperate for my cock, Bonbon?”
I don’t answer with words. I answer by moving against him.
And that’s all he needs.
He thrusts into me.
He’s big, stretching me in a way that makes me feel so full that tears slip from my eyes.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out as he sinks fully into me, the feeling overwhelming, consuming, leaving me breathless.
He pulls back slowly, not rushing, his movement shifting, not just in and out.
And I’m gone.
The sensation builds fast, spiraling, wrapping around me until I can’t hold onto anything else.
I’m screaming now, the pleasure hitting in waves, intoxicating, pulling me under with no chance of escape.
“Look how well you take me,” he growls, his pace picking up, every movement hitting the right spot.
I can’t.
I can’t even look at myself anymore.
My eyes squeeze shut, my head falling forward as everything inside me fires up, burning, building to a point that feels unbearable.
“Yes…” I match him, my hips moving without hesitation now.
I’ve never been like this. Never this involved or this gone.
“More,” I beg.
“More?”
“Yes.”
The word comes out like a plea, like I don’t even recognize my own voice anymore.
It takes just three more thrusts. Three. And my body gives in completely.
The pleasure crests, crashing through me all at once, stealing the air from my lungs as everything breaks. It pulls me under, consuming me, leaving me trembling, my body shaking through it as it rolls on, hit after hit.
I cry out, unable to hold it back, the sound torn from somewhere deep, somewhere I didn’t know I had access to.
And for a moment…. There’s nothing else.
Just the feeling.
Just him.
And me, completely undone.
I barely have time to catch my breath before he turns me, his hand firm at my waist, guiding me like I’m still not fully my own.
Then his lips are on me.
He kisses me like he already knows how I taste, like he’s been waiting to claim it, slow at first, then deeper.
“The night’s not over,” he breathes against my mouth.
And this time, I believe him.
I hold his gaze.
“Bring it on.”