His To Shatter (23 page)

“I’m telling you Kyle,” I said, getting
heated myself, “I had it wrong. It was just a mistake.”

“This is a mistake,” Kyle insisted, looking
pointedly at Girard, “Marrying some entitled capitalist douche bag
is a huge mistake, Madison. I know you’re probably being blinded by
his money and the GQ thing he has going on, but if you stop and
think about it for a second, you’ll realize what a terrible mistake
it is, letting him back into your life.”

“You are overstepping, young man,” Girard
said, “We’ve never met, you know nothing about me or my background,
and certainly not my business practices. I realize that you are,
most likely, underemployed and inept, probably in debt as well, but
there’s no need to take that out on me. I hope to meet you again on
better terms.”

Girard lay a hand on the small of my back and
guided me away from Kyle, down the sidewalk. As I turned my back, I
heard a soft
thwack
. Spinning around, I saw Kyle with his
fist raised for just one second—just long enough to realize that
he’d had the nerve to sucker punch Girard. I didn’t even have time
to speak before Girard flew into action, twisting Kyle’s arm behind
his back and tossing him onto the stoop of our building in one
fluid motion. Kyle sprawled out on the stairs, shocked and
embarrassed. Girard smoothed down his shirtfront, eyeing Kyle with
contempt.

“Next time, I’ll actually hurt you,” Girard
said, turning away, “Try to improve your manners before then.”

I turned away from Kyle and took Girard’s
hand in mine once more. I knew that Kyle would be furious with me
for deserting him, for heading off with Girard after I’d been so
badly hurt. But there was no way I was ever going to get Kyle to
understand. His feelings for me would always cloud his judgment,
always make him hate Girard. I just hoped that Ashlee and Dara
would be able to make up for it by finally coming around to
accepting my relationship with Girard. It would have been wonderful
if my three best friends could just be happy for me, happy about
this wonderful new relationship I’d stumbled into, but they were
too protective of me for that. They’d come around with time, I
knew. How could they not see how much Girard and I loved each
other, made sense together?

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty

* * * * *

Girard hailed a cab on Houston Street and
opened the door for me. I slid into the car and smiled as he
settled in beside me. I had forgotten how satisfying it was just to
be near him. To be sharing a little pocket of space in the world
beside this incredible man. He took my hand once more as the cabbie
sped uptown. We wove through cars, busses, and bikers at an
alarmingly fast clip, and soon enough, Central Park was looming up
ahead of us. We spun off into Columbus Circle and came to a stop in
front of the staggeringly tall Trump Tower. I craned my neck as we
stepped onto the sidewalk, amazed by the sheer height of the
building.

“This is your hotel,” I said, amazed.

“It’s our hotel,” Girard said, leading me up
the stairs and into the lobby. The entire foyer was covered in gold
leaf, and I was afraid to touch anything lest I break it. I
realized how out of place I probably looked, in my jeans and
t-shirt among so many business suits and smart skirts. Girard, for
one, didn’t mind in the least. He led me through the lobby like he
was escorting the Queen of New York. An elevator whisked us up
dozens of stories, letting us out at the very top of the tower. Of
course Girard had gone for a penthouse.

“I think you’re going to like this,” Girard
said, opening the door with the swipe of a card. The door swung
open into our room, and I stepped slowly over the threshold.

“Holy...” I breathed, taking in the space
with awe. The penthouse was absolutely sprawling, and the walls of
the main room were entirely made up of windows. We looked out onto
the city with a bird’s eye view; Central Park spread out beneath us
like a green picnic blanket, and the iconic buildings of midtown
sprouted up like iron and steel trees all around us. Long hallways
led down to rooms unknown, and I knew at once that this place was
bigger even than the home I’d grown up in.

My eyes struggled to take in every expensive,
pristine corner of the room. I was so boggled by the enormity of
the space that I almost didn’t see the golden box sitting in the
middle of the floor in front of me, tied with a red ribbon.

“Is that for me?” I asked Girard.

“Who else?” he said. “Open it.”

I went excitedly to the box and snatched it
up. It was as light as a feather. I untied the ribbon with great
care and lifted the top off the golden box. A nest of delicate
tissue paper obscured the contents of the package, and I nudged
them aside, searching for my gift. My fingers brushed against
something at the bottom of the box, and I raised up Girard’s
present to get a better look.

“Oh,” I whispered. In my hands was a
beautiful vintage teddy. It was ivory with gold stitching, made of
silk and lace and tulle. It was the most gorgeous item of clothing
I’d ever seen, and I clutched it to my chest as I turned to face
Girard. “Thank you,” I said, “It’s lovely.”

“Put it on,” he said. His voice was thick
with happiness and something else, something that sounded very much
like desire. I made to move past him toward the bathroom, but he
said, “No. Here.”

I eyed the tall windows and felt a little
shiver pass through my body. “Here, here?” I asked.

“Yes,” Girard said.

The exhibitionist streak in him was showing,
and though I’d never been inclined that way before, I suddenly felt
the desire to experiment with my husband-to-be. Smiling, I set the
garment down and walked out to the middle of the room. Practically
surrounded by windows, I lifted my t-shirt up over my head and
flung it onto the leather couch. Girard stood his ground, watching
me. Under his gaze, I felt like the sexist creature on the planet.
I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down my legs, watching Girard
notice the bruises he’d left on my hips. I kicked my pants away and
straightened up in my panties and bra. Having Girard back in my
life made me brave, made me want to revel in my own body.

I reached behind my back and unclasped my
bra, let it fall away from my body as my breasts bounced, released.
Even from across the room, I could see the eager bulge beginning to
swell in Girard’s trousers. He was good at staying composed, but
between the telltale hardness in his pants and the hot, pulsating
desire clouding his eyes, I couldn’t be fooled. Slowly, I slid my
panties down over my thighs and stepped out of them. Just being in
Girard’s presence had me getting wetter by the second. I missed the
feel of him against me, inside of me. I couldn’t believe it had
only been a few days since we’d had each other. Every moment I
didn’t spend with him seemed like meaningless void, my purpose now
was to be in his presence.

Smiling through my aching desire, I reached
down for the teddy. I slipped the airy garment over my head and
moaned as the silky fabric brushed against my nipples, making them
hard. It was the perfect fit, caressing my every curve like it had
been made just for me. I spun in a little circle, to give Girard
and the city of New York a nice view. My hair fell in ash blonde
waves against my shoulders, and as I caught sight of my reflection
in one of the huge windows, I felt for the world like some kind of
goddess.

Girard began to cross the room toward me,
intent and serious. I stood rooted to my spot, letting him come to
me. The sight of this gorgeous man approaching me with such desire
shining in his eyes was making me shake, my knees trembled with
anticipation. As Girard drew up before me, the air between us
seemed to crackle with desperate lust.

“Can you trust me, Madison? After what
happened,” Girard asked, his voice throaty.

I looked up into his dark, brilliant eyes and
saw the truth there. “Girard,” I said, “Nothing you could do would
make me trust you less. I’m yours. I’m entirely in your hands.
Anything you want from me, just say the word.”

Girard smiled down at me, and put his hands
around my hips. He pulled me in against his body and brought his
mouth to mine. His firm lips opened mine beneath him, and I threw
my arms around his shoulders as his powerful tongue dove into my
mouth. Our kiss seemed to grow, to encompass our entire bodies,
charging our every cell with need and want. I could feel Girard
hard and throbbing against my thigh as his tongue flicked against
mine, driving me mad with want of him.

Suddenly, I felt myself being swept into the
air. Girard had me cradled in his arms and was whisking me out of
the living room, down the long hallway. He all but kicked down the
door we came to and carried me through the threshold. My mouth fell
open as I took in the suite’s master bedroom. An enormous king bed
stood against the wall, covered in a dozen cloud-like pillows. The
sheets were of the finest silk, and there was a stunning view of
the river through the window. Just as I was about to speak, to say
how amazing this all was, I shrieked suddenly as my body flew
through the air. I landed on the bed with a bounce, and realized
that Girard had thrown me down, quite roughly. The show of strength
and dominance brought a wicked grin to my face. This was the side
of Girard I’d been truly longing to see again.

He stepped toward me, unbuttoning his shirt.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as his firm, smooth chest was
revealed an inch at a time. I wanted to cover his skin in kisses,
every inch of his beautiful self. But I knew well enough to wait on
his instruction. I wanted him to tell me exactly what he wanted,
and I wanted more than anything to give it to him. Girard cast
aside his shirt and let his eyes wander all over my body. I was
sprawled out on the bed where I’d landed, and I couldn’t help but
arch my back when his eyes fell upon me.

“Get on your knees,” Girard said firmly. I
scrambled toward the edge of the bed and stood on my knees before
him, awaiting further instructions. He came closer to the bed, and
my fingers ached for wanting to reach out and take his hardness
between them. “Take me out,” he said, as if reading my mind. I
hastened to do so, whipping open the buckle of his belt and slowly,
reverently, reaching into the front of his pants. I groaned as my
hands closed around the pulsating thickness of him. I drew his
member out of its fabric sheath and, for a moment, simply took in
the long, hard beauty of it.

“Take me in your mouth,” he said softly. I
looked up at him sharply, a tiny moment of reluctance rippling
between us. Girard didn’t know it about me explicitly, but I’d
never actually given a blow job before. Not once. I refused to with
Marc, my college boyfriend, as a matter of principle. It had seemed
degrading at the time, but now...Now I found myself wanting to
taste this amazing man, to take him inside of me this way. Drawing
in a deep breath, I lowered my lips toward Girard’s throbbing cock.
He buried his hands in my hair and pulled, ever so slightly, just
enough to sting. I cried out at the delicious, subtle pain and, not
knowing what to expect, lay my parted lips lightly against the
swollen tip of Girard’s member.

The taste of him melted across my tongue, and
he let out a deep moan of satisfaction. My appetite was whetted,
and I knew that I needed more. I opened my mouth wider and took in
the entire head, letting my tongue dance against it. Girard’s
fingers tightened in my hair, and I relished his grip. I took as
much of Girard into my mouth as I could, his member filling me up
in this new, illicit way. I wanted more of him, and wrapped my lips
around his wide, pulsing shaft. Moving my head backwards and
forwards, easing him ever further into me, I rested my hands
against his muscular thighs. I let my fingers trace his skin,
moving up and up until they brushed against his balls. He let out
an deep moan as I cupped them in my palm, all the while running my
tongue up the length of him. He seemed to be growing harder by the
minute.

Girard laid his hands on my shoulders and
pushed me back onto the bed. I was surprised, and fell back
heavily, looking up at Girard’s glistening member, his steady gaze.
His chest was heaving with desire, and pride flowed through me,
knowing that
I’d
done this to him. As quick as lightening,
Girard grasped my hands with strong fingers and pulled me toward
him. As I reached the edge of the bed, he flipped me over onto my
belly, my legs fell off to the floor. I steadied myself on my own
two feet, bent over the bed before him. Before I could glance back,
I felt Girard lift the hem of my teddy, revealing my ass to him. I
gasped as I felt his fingers trace down along my back, over my
buttocks, and down toward that tightest of holes. I’d never been
touched there before, not even by him, and I must have stiffened
under his hands.

“Is this OK?” he asked, tracing little
circles around my asshole.

I was surprised when little waves of pleasure
coursed through my body as he rimmed me. It seemed so wrong, so
taboo...but it felt so good. “It’s OK,” I whispered, “It’s...It’s
great.”

He rested two fingers against me there,
rubbing me gently. “Someday,” he growled, “I’m going to fuck you
just like this. I’m going to slide into you right here,” he pressed
his finger firmly against my asshole to punctuate his point. “It
will probably hurt you the first time, but you’ll come to love
it.”

I believed him.

“But tonight, I don’t want you to feel
anything but absolute pleasure,” he said, and felt the tip of his
member pressing against the sopping wetness of me. He hovered
there, just beyond me, and I gasped as he reached under me to lay
his fingers against that throbbing button of ecstasy. I moaned as
he rubbed me there, kneading and flicking me toward orgasm. I
grabbed handfuls of silk and felt him finally, at long last, press
himself into me. Feeling him fill me up was like coming home
again.