Destroy Me (9 page)

“Your pussy takes hold of me so tightly, it’s such a perfect fit; it’s like they were made to be together.”

As he fucked her with long strokes, his arms locked around her. She could stay like that forever, impaled by him, so complete inside of her. With him she became whole. As he came inside her, he took her with him.

“God woman, I have missed this.”

He eased his weight from her, pulling his cock out of her as he did it.

She turned around, getting more comfortable on the bed.

“Why didn’t you reply to me yesterday?”

“I told you.”
“You said you were ‘unavailable.’”

“Yes I did.”

He leant over to the bedside table to open the bottle of champagne he had ordered earlier.

“What does that mean?”

He turned round to her, a look of irritation on his face.

“Exactly what I said. Why are you questioning me?”

“Can’t you at least be civil? God, you’re so cold.”

She rose from the bed and went to stand by the window. She hadn’t meant it to come out quite so vociferously, but she was offended by his careless, detached attitude, her emotions getting the better of her.

“Come here.”
“You don’t get to make the rules anymore.  Remember? You freed me.”
“Really? You’d like to put that to the test?”

“Perhaps.” She stood, resolutely.

With one stride he was off the bed and on her, her arms pinned either side of her, pushed back against the wall. Looking down into her face he towered over her.

“Do not move.”

He backed away from her and sat on the bed, facing her.

“You will do as I tell you. You know I am fully capable of making you. Now take off your dress.”

Excited, turned on by his command, loving the natural dominance of him, she pulled her dress up over her head and pulled it off, throwing it to the floor.

He rose, picked it up and went to her. He rolled the dress up and brought it to her face, covering her eyes and forming a knot in the back of it behind her head.

“Keep still.”

She was resisting him with her hands.

“I can’t see anything.”

“That’s the point, my dear. You don’t need to be able to see anything. I do. I want to watch as you play with yourself.”

Shocked by his suggestion, she froze.

“Play with your pussy. I want to watch you. I want to see you make yourself cum. I want to watch you being a naughty girl, rubbing your clit for me.”

She could see only the shadow of him through the layers of her dress, could not see the bulge in his trousers as he got hard at just the thought of watching her.

“Tara, I will spank you so hard if you do not do as I tell you. And I mean hard, no little slaps this time.”

The words he used and the sound of his voice excited her so much, she was aroused just listening to him. The thought of him watching her filled her with erotic longing. Her hand moved to her stomach, and slowly she moved it down farther, over her soft mound, until she felt the cleft between her lips and the wetness there from his cum moments earlier, as it was starting to drip from inside of her. With the wet stickiness she began to rub her fingers on her clitoris, instantly feeling it throb, still aroused from him fucking her only minutes ago.

“Do not stop until you cum. Open your legs wider; I want to see it all.”

She looked divine, his dirty, naughty girl, her thighs spread for him, her pussy dripping wet with his cum.

His cock was straining badly. Taking hold of it as he sat there watching her play with herself for him, he stroked it slowly, wanting to fuck her desperately, to pound her, to cum in her again, to cover her in cum and claim her as his.

“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met; the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

She could barely see him through the dress covering her eyes, but she thought she could see the shadow of his hand, holding his cock, stroking it as he watched her and the dark vision of it felt like an erotic  forbidden taboo, the thought of it as her fingers rubbed faster against her clit making her come with a deep shudder, her legs trembling as they weakened.

“Good girl. Now come here.”
She pulled off the dress from her eyes quickly, and the sight of him was incredible; the muscles of his arm flexed as he held his cock, so erect, so thick. As she looked at it he ran his hand up and down it, slowly, sensuously, looking into her eyes.

“Get down on your knees and open your mouth.”

Standing up from the bed he looked down at the submissive image of her, her mouth open to receive him, and he pushed his cock into her mouth, pushing it in as far as she could take it, before pulling it out and slapping it on her lips, the sound of it exciting them both, the sensation as it hit her soft lips sublime, her eyes locked onto his as he did it, the perfect obedience of her dark needs for him encouraging him more.

Slapping his cock across her face, she held his eyes in acceptance of his deviance, encouraging him further, seeking his loving punishment.

“Lay down on the bed.”

She stood and lay on the bed as he stood over her, reaching down to pull her breasts out from the restraints of her bra. It made them stand upright, erect, like his cock. He played with them with one hand as his other held onto his cock, stroking it again slowly.

He quickly grabbed her by the legs pulling her round and raising them flat against his chest, her feet by his shoulders. Reaching down to cup her ass, he thrust his cock into her instantly, hard long thrusts going deep into her as he began to pound her, staring down into her eyes as he claimed her, watching the darkness of her eyes as they held his, the desire they held for him astonishing him, the depth of them incredible.

“My love. You have no idea..”

His thrusts continued, slower for a while, taking his time to savour her, until he could hold back no more, and he came hard inside her, his eyes holding hers with a possession that pulled her to him.

Releasing her he bent down to her and kissed her with a passion that took her breath away, his hands cupping her face, stroking her hair.

In that moment she knew that she adored him.

“I’ll run you a bath.”
“Bathe with me.”
“There’s not really room for both of us!”

He went into the bathroom and she rose from the bed to follow him.

“Stay here tonight Tara. I have to go but I’ll be back tomorrow evening. I want you to be here for me.”
“Stay with me?”

“I have to go.”

He kissed her softly, tenderly, his lips brushing against hers, turning into a long slow full kiss, his hand gripping the back of her hair head.

He dressed quickly and she stood at the door of the bathroom watching in admiration, marvelling at the magnificence of his beautiful body again. The Gods had been generous when he had been created; his muscles so perfectly formed across his stomach and his thighs so strong, but when she looked at his face, it seemed that it held a glimpse of pain, and in his eyes was a storm of emotion, clearly evident. He was an enigma to her. He would come to her, for a short while, and then he would inevitably leave.

“Damien. Are you married?”

His head shot up at her comment.

“Of course not. There’s no-one Tara. Now, I need to go.”

He walked to the door, smiling at her as he left, yet his eyes looked sad.

She curled up on the bed, relived to have been reunited with him but upset by his departure, tears forming in her eyes, though she didn’t know if it was for herself or for him. She lay there, trying to understand him, but she had little to go on. Suddenly she realised she hadn’t told him about the incident the night before with Marc Chambers, who could well be in the Club now, on the floor below her. She’d wanted to tell Damien about what had happened, but in the heat of their encounter she’d forgotten all about it. She saw little reason to stay the night here now Damien had left, but already in bed, and not wanting to bump into Chambers, it seemed the best option to remain.

With conflict in his head Damien walked down the stairs of the Club. He had wanted to stay. He could easily spare the time. It wasn’t work that pulled him away from her. He ran a multi-million dollar business, but he knew how to delegate.

The reason why he was running out on her again had nothing to do with business. He just couldn’t be with her. He couldn’t be with anyone.

“Good Night Hamilton,” Damien said as he passed the doorman.

Hamilton was an old timer who had given his service in Vietnam, and now stood sentry at the Club. He was always immaculate in presentation and protocol.

“Good night Mr Lawson. You take care now.”
“Thanks Hamilton, will do, you too, ok?”

Damien was a generous benefactor of Veteran’s charities, anonymously donating huge sums.

He made his way through the doors and out down the steps to his car. His body felt depleted; drained by Tara. His drive was short, and in the peace of his empty apartment he headed to one of the rooms. With the money he had he could afford state of the art equipment, but he preferred simplicity. The room was of simple design; a boxing bag and mats. He quickly removed his jacket and shirt.

The sensation had been growing in him all night, like nails being hammered bit by bit into his skin. Stripped to the waist, he started to pound the bag with his fists, smashing into it without gloves, vicious full-blown punches. He landed them with staggering ferocity, venom directed at an unseen foe, and as he continued, a sheen of sweat began to glisten across his chest, the veins standing out with the strain of his actions. He reined blow after blow unrelentingly until eventually they became slower, exhaustion claiming his body, and as he slowed, his tears began to fall, spilling down his face. He bent down to the floor, as dark, desperate shadows threatened to consume to him.

He had fled from Tara like a thief in the night and retreated to his own domain; for fear that she would see him like this.

He couldn’t allow her to see him weakened, haunted. He couldn’t let his guard down. He couldn’t let anyone in; he couldn’t bear to lose anyone again. He had lost too many that were close to him, over the years. He needed to keep his distance from her, not allow her to develop the same depths of feelings that he already had for her. It would destroy him. It would break him. He had been told once, by someone who had served with him for many years, that what he had was Survivor’s guilt. That sometimes he hadn’t been able to save his comrades, and innocent people, from being killed haunted him. It made him feel that he should not have survived, that he didn’t deserve happiness, that he deserved only to suffer.

He sat in the dark as the tears fell, unable to stop them.

Chapter Thirteen

The following morning Tara showered, dressed and tried to fix her hair. It knotted so easily because of its length and now it was matted in places from the night before. She hadn’t thought of packing a brush, nor make-up remover. Her mascara had run when she had cried and now there were smudges under her eyes that the soap in the bathroom hadn’t managed to clean off. Her dress too was crumpled as she put it back on, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

She left the room and went downstairs.
Crossing the lobby to the exit she heard her name from behind. Turning, she froze. Marc Chambers was standing straight behind her at the entrance of the Bar. Why was he here at this time, surely it wasn’t open yet?

“Here so early Tara?”

His manner was smooth yet lacking any friendliness.

“Actually, I’m just leaving.”

“So am I, I will take you.”

“You have no idea where I’m going.” 

“Looking like that, I would assume you are going home to freshen up after what must have been one wild night.”

His tone held salaciousness in it, full of puerile insinuation. The man seemed to know no boundaries. She glared at him, embarrassed and angry now.
“As you seem to know, I don’t live far away. I intend to walk.”

“And as I told you the night before Tara, Washington can be a very dangerous place, particularly for someone as you.”

Why did he keep talking about danger? Why did he sound again like he was threatening her? She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. He was making her extremely uncomfortable.

“I have to go.”

She turned away from him and walked out of the Club, although she knew he was going to follow her.
“Tara. You’re safety is my primary concern.”
She threw her head back over her shoulder. The intent in his eyes was in clear contradiction to the statement he had made. This was nothing like her interactions with Damien. Where there had been aggression in Damien, and threat, the sparks of sexual attraction had been so visceral between them from the outset, from the moment they laid eyes on each other. It was nothing like this man. She felt that she should she seriously fear him. He hadn’t actually done anything, but as he walked behind her she felt he was like a vulture, aware of the vulnerability of its prey.

She walked past his Ferrari. She didn’t hear him start it up, and heard his continued footsteps instead behind her. As she turned the corner onto the street she glanced over her shoulder. He was behind her, coming up fast.

This wasn’t normal behaviour, by any means. She crossed at the junction as did he moments later. Without thinking she fumbled in her handbag for her phone. She dialled Damien’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message; she didn’t know what to say.

“You’re not being very accommodating Tara.”

He was shouting to her, his tone mocking.

What the hell was going on here? He was practically stalking her. She’d shared a drink with him, but she had given him no indication that she was interested in him. She’d said she was spoken for and had left. He was imposing himself on her and he knew it was disturbing her, frightening her.

The next street held a row of shops and cafes. All she could think of doing was to walk into a coffee shop, in the hopes he would walk on by and leave her in peace. She didn’t want him following her all the way home, and she couldn’t see a taxi she could jump into.