Authors: Janet Nissenson
Shattered: (30 page)
He’d barely given her time to recover before giving her a hard smack on the ass. “Back on track now, Angel,” he growled. “Get on the bed.”
Angela complied instantly, too accustomed to his domineering ways by now to even think of hesitating. He tied her to the bedposts with red silken cords, the binds feeling tighter than usual to her for some reason. Nick ran a hand over her still quivering belly, his heated gaze inspecting her body carefully, critically.
“You’ve lost weight,” he told her with a disapproving frown. “At least five pounds, I’m guessing. Why haven’t you been eating, Angel?”
She thought briefly about denying the fact, then considered fobbing him off with a story about working too many hours or having upped the amount of cardio she’d been doing, but knew he’d see right through any lie she could dream up. So even if hearing the truth angered him, she had no other option but to tell him.
“I missed you,” she whispered. “I worried that you weren’t going to call again.”
Nick shook his head, his fingers plucking at the narrow, lacy band of her thong. “That’s no reason to stop eating, Angel,” he told her quietly. “I’m sure as hell not worth you risking your health over. I want you to promise me now that you’ll never do that again.”
She nodded, too mesmerized by his dark gaze boring into hers to deny him anything. “I – I promise.”
He bent and kissed her cheek softly, his hand sliding around to squeeze her ass. “Good girl. Always so obedient. And always so sexy.”
Nick kissed her mouth then, with long, deep swoops of his tongue, kissed her until she groaned beneath his lips and her hips began to lift off the mattress involuntarily. His deep, drugging kisses went on for long minutes, but aside from his fingers holding her jaw in place he didn’t touch her.
By the time he lifted his mouth from hers and stood up to begin undressing, she was panting – breathless from his devouring kisses, and with every nerve ending in her body so tightly strung she knew she’d be able to come long and hard with the most subtle of touches.
But Nick was intent on following his game plan to the letter – undressing without the slightest bit of urgency, smiling carnally as he watched her reaction to the sight of his bare skin. His cock was enormous, so long and thick and hard that she whimpered at the sight of it, longing to feel its heavy girth thrusting deeply inside her body. Instead, he began to stroke himself, his hand moving slowly and deliberately up and down the considerable length from root to tip, over and over again, until he began to breathe a little harder with each stroke. She licked her lips as her pelvis thrust up off the bed, almost as though she could feel him inside of her already, as if each time his hand stroked his penis it was her pussy engulfing him instead.
A low shout was the only sound he made when he came, the thick, hot streams of semen landing all over her body – belly, breasts, thighs. As he’d tantalized her with back at the restaurant, he took his time rubbing every drop of his essence into her skin, bathing her in his scent, and the experience was so erotic, so deeply personal, that tears streamed from her eyes and she had to choke back a sob.
“Shh.”
He kissed each eyelid, his thumb prying her bottom lip open until she sucked on it. His mouth moved hotly down her throat to her breasts, and she yelped in surprise as he bit down hard on one of her nipples. He squeezed both of her breasts roughly as his mouth moved from one to the other, suckling on her over-sensitized nipples until she was squirming in renewed arousal. Her arms strained at their bonds, and she longed for her hands to be free so that she could clutch his head closer to her swollen, aching breasts.
Without warning, Nick slid down her body and swiftly drew her clit between his lips. Her body was already so highly stimulated that it took mere seconds for her to shatter again.
Afterwards, he returned to the script he’d recounted for her back at the restaurant – flipping her onto her belly; stroking himself to another climax and coming on her back and buttocks; then turning her again to lay on her back as he straddled her head, guiding his insatiable cock between her eagerly parted lips. Without the use of her hands she had to rely solely on her lips and tongue to bring him pleasure, and on Nick himself to control the depth and frequency of his thrusts. She took him willingly, opening up her throat to accept every hard, throbbing inch he gave her. He murmured to her in a low, guttural voice what it was he wanted, and she complied instantly, desperate to please him. And when he came, her jaw was too sore from the endless minutes of sucking him off to swallow, and the hot, sticky streams of semen overflowed her mouth, running down her jaw to her breasts.
He untied her then, and had to lift her arms and legs to wrap around his body since she was too wrung out, her muscles too sore, to do it herself. Nick pressed a kiss to her bruised, bee-stung lips.
“You’ve pleased me well, Angel,” he crooned. “As always. But I’m forgetting that this is
your
birthday and that tonight should be about
your
pleasure.”
your
birthday and that tonight should be about
your
pleasure.”
She cupped his cheek in her hand. “But your pleasure
is
my pleasure,” she murmured huskily. “Pleasing you is what I live for, Nick.”
is
my pleasure,” she murmured huskily. “Pleasing you is what I live for, Nick.”
His eyes darkened at her words, but he was unsmiling as he trailed a finger between her breasts. “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I, Angel? Sometimes I think too well.”
She shook her head. “No, never. I want -”
Her protest was swallowed up by the incessant demand of his kisses, his tongue taking renewed possession of her mouth. And then her protests were forgotten as he lavished attention on her body – kissing, caressing, licking, squeezing. It seemed there wasn’t even an inch of her body he didn’t touch or kiss, and he kept it up until she was writhing in arousal, her hips thrusting up at him frantically, and she was begging him plaintively.
“Please, ah, God, Nick, please,” she panted. “God, I need you so much, need to be fucked so badly. Do it now, please!”
Angela screamed as he wrenched her thighs apart and rammed inside her body with one commanding thrust. He’d aroused her to the point where she came immediately, her body so primed and ready that it had only needed the feel of him sheathed deeply inside her to start the convulsions. And as he began to stroke in and out of her, the tremors only grew in intensity until it felt as though the orgasm was never going to stop. She wasn’t able to discern if there were multiple orgasms happening one after the other, or if the bliss she was feeling was simply one long, continuous climax. Either way, she had no choice but to hang on tight and enjoy the sweetness of the ride, her arms wrapped around Nick’s neck, her face buried against the side of his throat. Her long legs were entwined around his pistoning hips, her heels digging into his buttocks as she urged him on. He was wild, more out of control than she’d ever recalled him being, and he continued to drive into her relentlessly, fucking her until she was limp and sobbing from the demands he was making on her body. She was so far gone, so caught up in the wildness, that she wasn’t even aware of the cries she emitted, or that his body suddenly stiffened and went still at the words that slipped out from between her lips, as naturally as breath.
When she looked back on it afterwards, she thought perhaps she might have passed out for a bit, for she honestly had no clear recollection of uttering the words. Either that or it had simply been a case of having had to suppress her true feelings for far too long, and her emotions finally reaching the breaking point.
When he withdrew from her, she was barely aware, too weak and drained to murmur even a feeble protest. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, almost a state of unconsciousness, and it wasn’t until she awoke late Saturday morning – alone, of course – that she finally realized what she’d done.
“Oh, God, no,” she gasped, her long hair falling around her like a curtain as she buried her face in her hands. “Please, God, tell me I didn’t actually say it, that I didn’t tell Nick I love him.”
But even as she bolted for the bathroom, her stomach revolting violently at the realization of what she’d said, Angela knew it had really happened. In the very height of passion, she hadn’t been able to suppress her feelings any longer and had cried out her love for him. And as she vomited into the toilet, shuddering with the effort, she knew it was as good as over between them now – her punishment for having broken one of his most steadfast rules.
***
When the better part of a week had already passed without a single word from Nick, Angela lost a little more hope each day that she would ever hear from him again. So when the text pinged on her phone late Friday afternoon, she had to re-read it several times just to make sure. It was brief and to the point, as most communications from him usually were, and she tried valiantly to tamper down the sense of relief she felt as she read it for the fifth time.
“Dinner tonight. Biltmore Club at seven.”
He hadn’t told her what to wear, but over the past two or three months he’d done that less and less. She knew now what he liked, what he expected, and since they were dining at the rather stuffy private club he belonged to, she’d make sure to wear something on the conservative side. She was also going to make damned sure that she looked as stunning as possible, that she pulled out every trick she knew to make herself irresistible. Because even though she’d been filled with dread all week, had been a walking basket case, convincing herself that she’d totally ruined any chance she had of keeping Nick, she was now filled with renewed hope. As she mentally ran through the contents of her extensive wardrobe, she vowed that she wasn’t going to let him end things without a fight. She’d find a way to convince him that the words she’d uttered in the heat of passion had been completely unintentional, had just slipped out unthinkingly, and that of course she wasn’t really in love with him. She was just like him, after all – not believing in love or commitment, being way too focused on her career right now to even think about the future, being more than content to keep things casual and low key between them, just as they had done so successfully for almost a year now.
She left work earlier than normal, needing the extra time to get ready for what could very well be the most important dinner of her life. She tried on nearly a dozen outfits, rejecting one and then the other as being too short, too sheer, too innocent, too sophisticated. She fretted over the sort of image she wanted to project tonight, not wanting to come across as too young or vulnerable, but also not wanting to seem too much the experienced, mature woman of the world.
In the end, she chose a simple white sheath dress, its starkness relieved by the black button detail on the yoke and a thin black patent leather belt. She left her hair long and straight, the way she knew Nick preferred, and her makeup was all smoky eyes and dark red lips. The only jewelry she wore were diamond stud earrings and a gold and diamond cuff bracelet, both gifts from him, of course.
He had left instructions for her with the club’s receptionist to head directly up to the dining room, an action that made her feel a bit uneasy since it wasn’t his usual way of doing things. Typically when she met him at a restaurant he would be waiting for her in the bar or at the entrance. Now, as she followed the hostess across the dining room floor towards their usual corner table, Angela kept her fingers crossed that her suddenly shaky legs would continue to hold her upright, or that her wobbly ankles wouldn’t cave in on her towering black patent stilettos.
Nick was already seated, a heavy crystal tumbler of what looked like whiskey in his hand. She frowned, for he rarely drank whiskey, preferring vodka as she did, or wine, and she tried not to make anything of it. He wore a light gray suit, unusual for him since he typically favored dark colors. He stood as she arrived but he was unsmiling and there was a strained look about his eyes.
A waiter brought her drink, her usual Absolut Citron, and she took a long swallow, not caring for once if Nick chided her. But he remained almost morosely silent, finishing off his whiskey and signaling to the waiter for a refill.
“I hardly ever see you drinking whiskey,” she commented, her voice sounding hollow to her.
He shrugged, glancing away. “I just wasn’t in the mood for vodka tonight. Seemed more of a Maker’s Mark evening.”
“Oh.”
The tension was heavy in the air and grew increasingly thicker as the meal dragged on. She let Nick order for her, but she had no appetite and no real idea of what she was even eating. For once, he didn’t harass her about picking at her food, and he himself ate little. Angela’s stomach was churning, as it had been all week, and she wondered distantly if she was developing an ulcer. Or acid reflux. Or IBS. Or –
“Do you want dessert?”
She shuddered at his question. “No. Maybe some tea, that’s all.”
“Okay.”
He skipped dessert, too, and even declined coffee in favor of a glass of port. It seemed to Angela that he’d had quite a bit more to drink than usual tonight, but she didn’t dare bring up the subject. They’d barely said a word during the entire meal, and Nick had been broody and unsmiling throughout. She’d wondered despairingly why he’d even bothered asking her to dinner, why he hadn’t just broken up with her over the phone or via text. Or just not contacted her at all. Anything would have been better than this ominous silence, this awful, menacing quiet.
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