by Calia Read
He slams into me, more powerfully than before. He grips the edge of the headboard for better balance and rolls his hips, and my toes curl.
My eyes flash open, staring blindly at the ceiling. How many women before me have stared at this very ceiling? And how many have sunk their nails into his back? Did they moan like me as he picked up the pace?
Did he tighten his grip and pant into their ear?
I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my legs high around his waist. My fingers drag down his back. I hope there are marks tomorrow morning. I curl my fingers around his jaw and jerk his face up. His eyes widen in shock for a second, then I kiss him hard. My teeth sink into his bottom lip. Everything I’m doing is animalistic, almost dangerous, but I have no power to stop it. Something is taking me over. It’s terrifying, yet thrilling.
All it’ll take is one more thrust, two at the most, from Étienne and I’ll come. My body is trembling, blood is roaring in my ears, and every muscle is tight and ready to let go. But I don’t want this to end. Not yet.
“Étienne,” I moan.
He lifts his head, eyes blazing. “You belong to me.”
His words ignite a small sense of fury in me. He thinks I belong to him, but can the same be said for him?
Without a second thought, I switch our positions until I’m straddling him. Étienne blinks rapidly and stares at me with shock. My knees are tightly pressed against his chest as I stare down at him. His dick lays hard and wet against my leg. Étienne’s hands latch onto my hips as if he’s getting ready to lift me back onto his dick, but I grab his hands and press them back against the bed. He could push me off him with a simple flick of his wrist, but he doesn’t. I think he’s waiting to see how far this goes.
If I’m perfectly honest with myself, so am I. Never have I been driven by need and blinded by lust like this. It’s making me do things I’ve never done before.
Slowly, my fingers make an unhurried walk down his chest.
“Will you ever be mine?” I ask, watching as his rigid abs become taut beneath his skin. When he doesn’t reply, I wrap my hand around his dick. I watch him as I rise to my knees and ever so slowly rub him against my slit. I’m trying to tempt him, but I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips. “Will I ever have the chance to own your heart and body?”
Étienne bites back a curse. “You are gonna kill me, Serene.” His chest heaves as he pants.When the wait becomes too much for him, he makes a grab for my hips.
Holding his hands close to my breasts, I look down at him. “Answer me.”
His eyes open into thin slits. If I were anyone else and we were anywhere else, I know I’d pay dearly for teasing him this way, but all is fair in love and fucking.
“God yes,” he bites out.
The cocky, self-assured man everyone knows him to be is gone, replaced with a man who looks half-starved. For me. It sends a shiver down my spine and makes me lean into him. I dip my head and go straight for his neck. I kiss the right side before I gently bite his skin.
He groans loudly and arches his neck. I smile in triumph. I never guessed bringing this alpha into submission would be so addicting. I could get used to this.
Sitting back up, I grab his large hands and place them on my breasts. Languidly, I lower myself onto his dick and groan. The way he fills me and gently squeezes my breasts while brushing his thumbs across my nipples is almost too much for me.
I kick back my head and close my eyes as I ride him. My knees sink into the mattress. The sheets become tangled around our ankles and soon fall onto the floor. Every muscle in my body is screaming, begging me to stop. But I can’t, because I see the look in Étienne’s eyes.
And I know it’s the same look in my own eyes. This connection we share is undeniable. It transcends time and all logic. Nevertheless, it’s there. Utterly owning us and pushing us out of our comfort zones until all we have left to cling to is each other.
“Étienne,” I pant.
He’s cupping my ass, steadily guiding us into the perfect tempo. “You feel… so good.”
As I stare at him, my vision becomes hazy. Sweat makes a path down my stomach and drops onto Étienne’s lower abdomen. Our skin faintly claps together. My sighs mixed with his groans brings everything to a fever pitch.
“Faster,” he bites out. He takes control by holding my hips in place and furiously thrusting. “Faster!”
Tilting me back, he pushes even deeper. My core tightens, and I shake. Étienne comes first, roaring my name. I feel him lengthen inside me, and I watch as his face contorts in a blended mixture of pain and pleasure.
I don’t know whether I scream his name or shout every cuss word under the sun. I just feel white-hot heat sweep through me, making my legs spasm.
With a blissful sigh, I drop my head against his chest, listening to the rapid pounding of his heart. My body is incapacitated. Every muscle feels like jelly, but my eyes are blinking rapidly. Minutes pass, yet Étienne doesn’t roll me off him, and I don’t try to move.
Finally, I lift my head, push my hair out of my eyes, and gaze at Étienne. He’s staring at the window. As though he can feel my stare, he meets my gaze. We’re both silent, but there’s an understanding between us that makes him gently guide my head back to his chest. I swallow loudly and close my eyes.
What the two of us know but won’t say is that irrevocable damage has been done.
And there’s no going back.
HOW DOES SOMEONE act after they’ve had sex with someone who isn’t their fiancé?
There should be a magazine article that doles out advice for this scenario. Although chances are I wouldn’t find said article in any magazine here. Or even one in my own time. I imagine that if I did, it would tell me to immediately confess to cheating.
Cheating.
There’s no reason to sugarcoat the situation. That’s what I did. Remorse lingers inside me, but it’s not destroying me. Which makes the situation worse. A good person would be consumed with guilt.
I’m in an impossible position. In this time, Étienne is my husband. Sleeping with him is entirely acceptable. I’m falling for him, and my heart is telling me that what I did last night is okay. My heart is telling me that I resisted as long as I could.
My mind says something else entirely. It tells me that I’m an engaged woman in the present day. It reminds me that I’m not trying to stay in this time. It tells me that what I did was wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
I feel sick to my stomach because I know both sides are valid.
I take a deep breath and inspect the front of my dress to make sure there are no wrinkles and my belt is secured around my waist before I walk into a dining room.
I didn’t encounter Étienne upstairs. In fact, I haven’t seen him in hours. During the early hours of the morning, I slipped out of his room and crept back to my room. The chances of seeing him during breakfast are high. I have to get this over with. The sooner, the better.
I drop my hands to my sides and breeze into the room with a smile. “Good morning.”
Livingston and Nat lift their heads. Étienne is nowhere in sight.
“Good mornin’,” Nat says brightly.
Livingston merely arches a brow and smirks at me before he goes back to eating.
I make my way toward the table. When I sit down, I give Étienne’s empty chair a cursory glance. Where is he? In all the time I’ve been here, Étienne has never been late to well… anything. Plus, I don’t want to let my built-up courage go to waste.
I say thank you to a servant who fills my plate with eggs, toast, bacon, cornbread, and grilled ham. I’d love to say there’s no way I could finish this, but I’m starving. Especially after last night.
I grab my fork to dig in when I notice Livingston and Nat staring at me. I lower my fork. “What?”
Instantly, Nat looks away. Livingston shrugs a shoulder and leans back in his chair.
My eyes narrow. “You two are acting
bizarre. Is everything okay?”
Livingston turns to his sister. “I’m fine. Are you fine, Nat?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, look at that,” I reply. “We’re all fine.”
For a few minutes, there’s only the sound of cutlery clanging against plates. I can’t help but notice how Nat and Livingston sneak glances my way. They’re up to something. Whatever it is, I don’t want to be a part of it; I have enough problems of my own.
I’m close to being done with breakfast when Étienne enters the room, whistling. He sees me sitting there, and a slow smile spreads. It quickly disappears when he sees his siblings sitting across from me.
“Mornin’, Étienne,” Livingston drawls out slowly.
He nods his brother’s way. I look out of the corner of my eye, waiting for Étienne to brush past me, but he never does. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when a shadow spills across my plate. Étienne curls his hands around the top of my chair.
Almost immediately, the air changes. It’s becomes charged and heavy with all the things Étienne and I did last night, every indecent word he whispered in my ear. My breathing becomes ragged. My back is ramrod straight; I can feel the heat radiating from Étienne’s body. Livingston watches us with interest. I know Étienne’s waiting for me to tilt my head back and acknowledge him, but I’m not going to.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you have a home in Charleston, correct?” Étienne asks, still behind me.
“Of course. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise if I had breakfast with my siblings and wonderful sister-in-law. Also, I thought that…”
What Livingston says next drifts right past me because two fingers hook around the material of my dress and gently tug until I’m sitting back in my seat and my head is brushing Étienne’s lower abdomen. Étienne continues to converse with his brother as though nothing is amiss, but in reality, those agile fingers of his graze my shoulder blades through my dress. I try to eat, but my hands are shaking so badly half of my food drops back onto my plate.
Their conversation comes to a close and Étienne steps away, but not before his hands brush against the back of my neck. I completely freeze up when he walks past me. My grip on my fork tightens as I fight the urge to scoot closer to him.
Immediately the servants place breakfast in front of Étienne. He digs in with gusto, eating as if this is the first meal he’s had in weeks. I had an appetite when I first came into the room, but now adrenaline is coursing through me, making it impossible for me to swallow. Nat is staring at me oddly, and Livingston is smirking at me as if he knows. Which is impossible.
After a few minutes of blissful silence, Livingston clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “How are you today, Étienne?”
Étienne doesn’t bother to lift his head. “Great.”
“You’re awfully quiet.”
Étienne pauses. “I’m always quiet.”
“But you’re suspiciously quiet today. Don’t you think so, Nat?”
Nat’s brows furrow. “I’m not sure. Are there different types of quiet?”
“Yes. And I think we’re gettin’ a glimpse of those types as we speak.”
Étienne drops his fork onto his plate, sighs, and stares at his brother. “Are you done?”
“Not at all.” There’s that shit-eating grin again.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I glance at the opposite side of the table. If growing up with siblings has taught me anything, it’s that when your brother or sister give you that grin, they have something on you. Something you don’t want anyone to know about. And they’re going to dangle it above your head for as long as possible.
Livingston doesn’t live here! He couldn’t possibly know about last night… could he?
“Étienne, did you sleep well last night?” Livingston asks with mock concern.
Shit. Livingston knows.
Étienne’s fork pauses midway to his mouth before he goes back to eating. “Yes.”
“Mmmm…” Livingston turns his attention to me. “So, Serene…”
Reluctantly, I meet his gaze. “Yes?”
“You look a bit flushed.”
“Livingston!” Nat admonishes.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t talk about a lady’s appearance. It’s not appropriate.”
“Nonsense. It’s Serene. She’s like a sister. Besides, I’m sayin’ what everyone else is thinkin’.”
Nat doesn’t reply.
“Am I wrong?” Livingston prods.
“Well… no,” she concedes.
“Exactly!” He singles me out again. “As I was sayin’, you look a bit flushed. Did you sleep all right?”
Gingerly, I set down my fork and gulp my orange juice. “Yes.”
Étienne glares daggers at Livingston. “What is the purpose of these questions?”
Livingston fixes the cuffs of his white dress shirt. “I’m simply curious. When I arrived this mornin’, I heard two of the maids talkin’ about how they overheard loud noises coming from your room, Étienne.”
Étienne, who’s in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee, coughs loudly while I fight the urge to slide under the table where I can privately die of mortification.
Livingston glances between us. When neither of us comments, he smirks at Étienne. “Know anything about that?”
“I don’t know what they’re talkin’ about.”
“Hmm. That’s rather a peculiar remark to make. Don’t you think?”
“It is,” Étienne agrees. “Perhaps they misheard; I did not hear a thing.”
“Interestin’.” Livingston turns his gaze to me. “Serene, did you hear any noises last night?”
“Nope,” I reply, making sure to keep my voice neutral.
Livingston doesn’t reply, and I don’t know what his facial expression is because I’m confident that if I look at him, he’ll see guilt written on my face. The room goes quiet. After a few minutes, I grow hopeful that perhaps Livingston is going to give the conversation a rest and take me out of my misery.
That, unfortunately, doesn’t happen.
“What makes this entire situation so compellin’ is Nat mentioned to me that she too heard some loud noises last night.” He glances at Nat. “I think your actual words were, ‘Sounded like there was a beast in the house.’ Did I get that right?”
“Quite right.” Nat fights to keep her face neutral, but fails miserably.
“And the way the maids were describin’ it, it sounded like we had a wild animal on the property.”
“Perhaps,” Étienne replies tightly. “But this is my home. You don’t live here anymore.”
“True. This is my childhood home though. So to hear that these noises went on almost all night is deeply concernin’ to me. Do you think we should—”
“Enough!” Étienne sharply interjects, much to my relief.
Nat stares at her plate. Livingston, however, seems utterly unfazed by Étienne’s sudden burst of anger and grins. Étienne’s jaw is clenched as he stares at his brother. Something tells me that if there weren’t a table between them, Étienne would be beating the shit out of Livingston.
Quickly, I stand. “Étienne, can I talk to you? Alone?”
Before he can reply, Livingston cuts in. “Now whatever could you two possibly want to talk about privately? We’re a family.”
Étienne grunts and stands, tossing his napkin onto the table. “I would love that, Serene.”
Happily, I walk out of the dining room, away from Livingston’s knowing gaze and twenty questions.
“My office?” Étienne asks once we’re in the hall.
I nod, and we move toward the foyer with only the sound of my heels clicking on the floor to keep us company.
Ben doesn’t bat an eye as we walk past him. I give him a weak smile.
Étienne opens his office door and gestures for me to precede him. I take a deep breath and watch as Étienne’s shoulders visibly relax when we’re al
one. He slowly turns my way. Last night, I hoped that all the tension building between us would be expelled, but that didn’t happen. It’s still there. If anything, it’s grown stronger, more potent. I feel as though an invisible thread between the two of us is gradually pulling us toward one another.
Étienne strides toward his desk. “You left my room early.”
I lace my fingers in front of me. “I thought that might be the best idea. So things wouldn’t be awkward.”
He’s silent. “Fair enough. What is it you needed to speak with me about? I need to leave for work soon.”
I smirk; even though we slept together, that doesn’t mean Étienne’s blunt way of speaking is magically going to be rounded out. I prefer it that way. He says what he means and means what he says. It encourages me to speak the truth and say what’s on my mind.
“I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
He frowns and looks me up and down before his eyes widen in alarm. “Are you okay? Was I too rough with you?”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “God, no. I’m not a china doll.”
“Then what? Do you regret what we did?”
At that question, I look at the floor. I should feel guilty. But I don’t. Does that make me a terrible person? Absolutely. But it’s the truth.
I look Étienne in the eye. “No. I don’t regret anything about last night. What I wanted to talk to you about is the fact that it can never happen again.”
“Why not?”
“I have a fiancé.”
Étienne crosses his arms. “But you’re having sex with a man you’re married to. Correct me if I’m wrong, but a husband overrides fiancé, yes?”
Challenging his logic is hard. “Yes. Even so, I’ll know the truth.”
Étienne’s jaw clenches as he stares at me.
“So we can never have sex again,” I say, trying to sound firm but miserably failing.
Once again, Étienne doesn’t say a word.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I rush out. “It was nice.”
He arches a brow. “Just nice?”
“It was amazing. But it’s off the table.”
“Of course.”
“It’s wrong.”
“Obviously,” he says with amusement.