Chapter 14 — The Breach #2
“Perfect,” he whispered, his voice full of profane reverence. “You’re a damn work of art.”
He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion.
Maya had seen him shirtless at the gym, but that had been from a distance, through glass. Now he was here, inches away. The definition of his torso, the line of dark hair trailing from his navel to his waistband, the white scars on his ribs… it was intimidating. He was big. He was powerful.
He unbuttoned his pants. The zipper was loud in the silence of the room.
He kicked the pants and boxers away.
Maya looked down. She couldn’t help it.
He was hard. Painfully, magnificently hard. And he was big. Big enough that a stab of real fear mixed with the desire in her belly.
“Ethan…” she whispered, eyes wide.
He saw the fear. And unlike before, he didn’t pull back. He smiled. A lupine smile, full of teeth and intent.
“Too late to run, Maya.”
He picked her up.
It was effortless. He slipped an arm behind her thighs and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Maya wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her arms around his neck, burying her face in the curve of his shoulder. He smelled of man and desire.
He carried her to the bed and laid her on the mattress.
The satin sheets were cold against her back, but Ethan was over her in a second, covering her with his heat. He braced himself on all fours above her, caging her with his arms, his knees pressing against the sides of her thighs.
He didn’t kiss her. He looked at her. He wanted to see.
“Take it off,” he ordered, looking at the bra.
Maya’s hands were shaking so much she had trouble with the clasp. Ethan watched her struggle, impatient, but let her do it. It was important that she undress for him.
When the bra came loose, she tossed it aside.
Ethan lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth.
Maya screamed. The sound was loud, uninhibited. The sensation of his hot, wet mouth, the strong suction, the rough tongue teasing the sensitive peak… it short-circuited her nervous system. She arched her back, offering herself to him, her hands grabbing his hair, pulling him closer.
He alternated between her breasts, worshiping them, biting lightly, sucking hard. He was starving. He was feeding on her.
His hand slid down to her panties. He didn’t remove them carefully. He hooked his fingers in the lace and tore it.
The sound of the fabric ripping was erotic and violent.
Maya gasped, shocked by his strength.
“I’ll buy another,” he murmured against the skin of her stomach, kissing his way down. “I’ll buy a thousand more.”
He spread her legs with his knees, forcing her to open completely for him.
He didn’t go down on her. He stopped, hovering over her, the tip of his cock brushing her wet entrance.
Maya whimpered, moving her hips, seeking to be filled.
“Please,” she begged. “Now. Ethan, now.”
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Maya opened her eyes. Ethan’s face was contorted with need, the tendons in his neck standing out. He was holding himself back with superhuman control.
“I want you to see who’s doing this to you. I want you to remember this for the rest of your life. It’s not Kyle. It’s not a ghost. It’s me.”
“It’s you,” she sobbed. “It’s always you.”
With a single, devastating thrust, he entered her.
Maya screamed. He was too big. The invasion was total, filling her, stretching her, possessing her. There was a sharp pain, brief, followed by a sensation of fullness so intense she saw stars.
Ethan stopped, buried to the hilt, his breathing ragged. He closed his eyes, his head falling back, his face a mask of pure ecstasy.
“God,” he grunted. “You’re so tight. You’re perfect.”
He began to move.
There was no gentleness. No smooth rhythm of lovemaking. This was fucking. Primal, raw, and necessary. He moved with long, powerful thrusts, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back into her, driving her body across the satin sheets with each impact.
The headboard banged against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Maya couldn’t think. The world had narrowed to pure sensation. His weight. His sweat mixing with hers. His beard scraping her face and neck. And that relentless friction inside her, building unbearable pressure in her belly.
She clawed at his back. She felt the skin break under her nails, but he didn’t even flinch. If anything, he increased the pace. The pain seemed to fuel him.
“You like this?” he growled in her ear, biting the lobe. “You like being mine?”
“Yes!” she screamed. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Tell me who you belong to, Maya.”
“You! I belong to you!”
The confession broke his last barrier.
He released her hand and grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand, dominating her completely. With the other, he gripped her hip, holding her in place to take every inch of him.
The rhythm became frantic. Animalistic.
Maya felt the tension in her body reach critical mass. It wasn’t just physical pleasure—it was a cataclysmic emotional release. All the fear, all the anger, all the confusion of the past week channeling into this single moment.
“Ethan!” she screamed, her voice breaking.
“Come for me, Maya,” he ordered, slamming deep, hitting that spot inside her that made her see white. “Let go. Let it all go. I’ve got you.”
And she let go.
The orgasm hit her with the force of a car crash. Her entire body contracted, squeezing him in violent spasms. She screamed, a long wordless sound muffled by his mouth capturing hers again.
Feeling her come apart around him was the end for Ethan.
He gave three more brutal, deep thrusts, then stiffened. A low, guttural grunt tore from him as he spilled inside her, pouring everything he had, marking her with his seed, his possession, his own broken soul.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Ethan collapsed on top of her, his weight crushing and comforting at once. Their breathing was the only sound in the room, two irregular rhythms trying to find sync.
The sweat cooled on their skin. The smell of sex—pungent, musky, undeniable—saturated the air, overlaying the sandalwood and chlorine.
Maya lay motionless, staring at the dark ceiling. Her body still trembled with aftershocks. Her mind floated in a white, silent fog.
Slowly, reality began to seep in around the edges.
She felt the ache between her legs. The burn in her wrists where he’d held her. The dead weight of his arm across her chest.
She was in Ethan Vance’s bed.
She had just had sex—no, she had been fucked—by the man who bought her as payment for a debt. And she had begged for it. She had clawed his back. She had said she belonged to him.
Ethan moved. He rolled to the side, getting off her, but didn’t pull away. He drew the satin sheet over them, a strangely domestic gesture after the violence of the act.
He propped his head on his elbow and looked at her.
In the dim light, his face was more open than she’d ever seen it. The aggression had vanished, replaced by a drowsy, heavy satisfaction. He reached out and traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.
“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was hoarse, deep.
Maya turned her head to look at him. She wanted to say she hated him. Wanted to cry. Wanted to scream that this was a mistake.
But when she opened her mouth, the truth came out, traitorous and simple.
“I’ve never felt anything like that.”
Ethan smiled. That arrogant half-smile was back, but there was softness in it.
“I told you, Maya.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, a chaste kiss more shocking than the sex. “We fit. Broken pieces fit together.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest.
“Sleep.”
Maya stiffened for a second, then, overcome by exhaustion—chemical and emotional—relaxed against him. She closed her eyes, listening to his heart beat strong and steady beneath her ear.
The contract had been violated. The barrier had been breached. And as she drifted into sleep in her captor’s arms, Maya knew, with terrifying certainty, that the most dangerous part of the debt wasn’t the money or the time.
It was this. It was the fact that, for the first time in years, she didn’t want to be anywhere else.