I don’t know when he lets me go, I’m so overwhelmed with ecstasy, but suddenly he’s stripping in front of me, pulling off his pants and underwear, letting his cock spring free as he tosses his clothes onto the floor.
“Now it’s my turn,” he growls hungrily, lining his thick cock up between my legs and thrusting inside of me without hesitation.
I gasp as he enters me, feeling him fill me, stretching my walls, while he groans with utter rapture.
“Fuck,” he says, his deep voice low and heavy, “You're so fucking tight.”
He places his hands to either side of me to balance himself, getting into position to pound harder into me, while my hands drift instinctively down to his chiseled ass, my fingernails digging into his flesh.
His breathing is ragged as he steadies himself, all the while keeping up his ruthless pace. When he gets his balance, he fucks me harder and deeper, rocking the bed back and forth, the headboard starting to bang against the wall.
The smack of flesh hitting flesh fills the room, mixing in along with the sounds of the banging headboard. Smack. Smack. Smack. Bang. Bang. Bang. I can't scream. I want to scream out my pleasure, but my body feels paralyzed from the intensity of it all. I feel another storm brewing as I moan out his name in what feels like a whispered plea, barely able to take his entire length, his cock going so deep I almost think it's almost too much.
Zander picks up his pace, his chiseled hips thrusting violently inward, faster, harder, his moaning becoming louder as I feel his cock grow impossibly hard inside of me. It’s coming. I know it. And I want it. All of it.
His powerful thrusts slow down to deep, rhythmic ones, the bed indenting each time his body smashes into me with such force that I fear the box spring might break.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I hear Zander moan while the fire inside of my core ignites again.
One. Two. Three. Four. Each thrust is deeper and harder than before, and on the fourth, Zander throws back his head as he goes balls deep inside of me, and cums violently.
My thighs are quivering and shaking like an earthquake as a tidal wave of pleasure hits me and I moan his name over and over.
“Zander!” I cry, feeling his dick still contracting inside of me while my walls squeeze every last drop out of him.
Finally, he pulls out of me and falls onto the bed on my right side, his chest heaving from exertion, his body covered in sweat. Both of us need to catch our breath.
As he walks away from me, I'm struck by the realization that my body is shaking with an intensity I've never felt before. Every emotion feels as if it's overwhelming me.
I've had sex before. I've had other partners and came before.
But this is different.
It's so strong, so powerful, it's... too intense. I place a hand over my racing heart as he flicks on the light to the bathroom.
The shockwaves pulse through me as I try to calm down and try to ignore what my heart is telling me.
Chapter 21
Zander
My light blue gaze stares back at me in the mirror of the dresser. A dark ring is around my left eye. This isn’t a good look. My eyes travel to Arianna’s form on the bed behind me as I slip the Rolex around my wrist and tighten the band. I don’t even need to look as I do it, it’s been the same every morning. But there’s never been a woman behind me.
In my room, on my bed.
Her gorgeous body is nothing but a small lump on the bed, hidden beneath the thick grey comforter. She’s getting to me. I’m breaking rules for her. A deep inhale makes my back crack slightly as I close my eyes, wincing slightly from the bruise on my face. Last night… things are changing. Fast. And it’s hard to admit it.
I got into a fucking bathroom brawl over her. It was worth it.
Work is calling me. I’m already late. I button the top of my dress shirt, not knowing what to do about my sweetheart.
Right now… and later. Once all of this is done. I’m sure as fuck not kicking her out, but I don’t like that she’ll be in here. Alone.
With cold blood running through my veins I quietly walk to the end of the bed, my jacket and shoes waiting for me.
The clock on the nightstand reads 6:40. Late for me, but Arianna’s still asleep. A genuine smile curves my lips up when I hear her soft snoring. It’s adorable. She’s adorable.
With her mouth parted slightly, the soft sound is accompanied by her shoulders rising slightly, her dark hair a messy halo around her angelic face.
She’s so beautiful. So innocent.
I rip my gaze away, slipping the first shoe on and tying the laces tight.
My daily routine. Nothing has changed. I almost roll my eyes at the thought, pulling the lace even tighter.
Everything’s changed.
It’s not because of Arianna. I refuse to think that she’s the reason I’m slipping, making one mistake after the other. It’s Danny Brooks. I keep making errors in my judgment when it comes to him.
The thin laces dig into my fingers as I tie the second shoe and rise from the bench at the end of the bed, picking up my coat and walking quietly to the nightstand where I tossed my keys last night.
I have to close my eyes when I catch her sweet scent. It’s like citrus with a hint of honeysuckle. I wonder if she knows how alluring she is. Lying there so beautifully, her body so soft and warm with curves that only tempt me that much more.
A dark voice in the back of my head whispers, in nearly a hiss, you can take her. She’s yours. You own her.
But the stolen moments we’ve had are because she wanted me. Because she needed me.
I don’t want her to think I’m the kind of partner Brooks was. The thought disgusts me. My nose wrinkles and I turn sharply away from her, hating the vile image of that prick. If that’s what last night was for her, I’ll never forgive myself. She’s not a whore for me to use. Not to me. My heart beats faster, slamming against my chest.
The keys jingle against one another as I snatch them quickly off the dresser. I can be a Master worthy of her. Not a sick fuck who uses pain as a threat. I don’t ever want to cause her pain, and I know she doesn’t need it. Even if she thinks she does. Holding the car keys in my hand I walk away from her, intent on leaving both her and my thoughts behind me.
I’m halfway across the room when her soft voice calls out. “Zander?” My name is soft, but also scratchy, the morning evident in her tone.
I stop in my tracks, the floorboards beneath the thick carpet creaking slightly. My body tenses, realizing I have to address her now. She knows I heard her.
I turn slightly, relaxing my body and treating her the same way I treat everyone else. With a facade of ease. It comes naturally.
“Good morning,” I greet her and feel the fake smile on my face without consenting to it.
She props her small body up on her elbow and shoves the hair away from her face. Blinking several times, each time seeming more and more awake, she stifles a yawn and rises slowly into a sitting position gripping the comforter in her hands and bringing it up over her naked body. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s self-conscious or if she doesn’t want me seeing her.
In the soft yellow morning light spilling in between the thick curtains, she looks radiant. I want to see her, every last inch of her, just like I did last night. But it’s only fair that she hides herself behind a blanket, while I hide behind this smile.
Her dark green eyes dart to the bedroom door and then back to me as she asks, “Do you want me to get ready?” Another yawn creeps up on her, and from the look in her eyes she’s obviously embarrassed by her exhaustion.
“You don’t have to,” I say and my voice is strong, slightly harsh perhaps.
“Are you sure?” she asks me sweetly. “I don’t mind… I know you probably don’t want me in here...” Her voice trails off as she picks at the comforter and then laughs a little, this sweet little sound that’s so pure.
My smile softens and I’m moving toward her before I even realize it,
my strides easy and comfortable. I have the urge to sit on the bed, she even scoots slightly, making room and straightening a little, although the comforter sags slightly in front of her. Just a glimpse of her cleavage is showing, modest, but tempting. Just like my sweetheart.
I almost sit with her, but then I remember. Her gift.
It was meant to be a thank you for attending last night.
“I got you something,” I tell her without thinking. Instantly, her expression softens. Those sweet lips slowly turn up and her eyes sparkle. I run my hand through my hair, wondering if it’s stupid. All the while I'm going to the closet and gathering the small bag to give to my sweetheart. Her eyes flicker to the empty side of the bed, a warm red hue filling her cheeks. My spot that she made for me.
Utterly gorgeous. A huff of air leaves me as I look at her. She really doesn’t get how tempting she is. How a woman like her could ruin a man like me. Losing control, coming undone all because of her. It’s already happening. And she doesn’t even know it. My feet remain planted where they are, even though my body wills me to sit next to her. I have to hold back.
I clear my throat as I hold the bag out to her. At the faint sound, Arianna finally looks at me. I watch her face as her slender fingers pull the paper away.
The thick wrapping paper crinkles as she pulls the package out of the bag and tears it open from the seams.
The moment she realizes what they are, her eyes brighten and a wide smile makes my chest fill with confidence. She’s so true to her feelings, her reactions so natural.
And she loves the gift.
“Brushes?” she asks me with that smile still on her face. Her eyes aren’t on me though; she’s peeling the last bit of tape from the package of paintbrushes. I had no idea such a thing could cost so much.
“I thought you’d like them,” I answer her simply.
She tilts her head, focusing all of her attention on me as she puts it all to the side and rises to her knees, pulling the comforter with her and planting a small, chaste kiss on my lips.
My eyes stay open the entire time and although her lips are pursed, I swear she doesn’t stop smiling. She pulls back quickly, that beautiful red flush all over her skin and says softly, “Thank you. I love them.”
I stare at her a long moment, realizing how genuinely happy she is with such a small gift. But the clock from the nightstand calls my attention with the faint click of the hand.
Late. I’m late.
Reality sets in, and I give her a nod. “I’m happy you like them. I’ve got to be going now.”
An awkward tension settles between us.
“Do you want me to go?” she asks, the warm color fading and a wall of armor slowly rising around her. The small moment is over, enjoyable though it was.
“No,” I say, but even I can hear the hesitation in my voice. I strengthen it as I add, “You can stay for as long as you like.”
I lean forward, my legs pushing against the bed making it groan and a hand bracing myself on the bed. I cup her jaw with my other hand to kiss her quickly, pulling back slightly and staring at her lips for just a moment. She doesn’t open her eyes until I let her go.
Chapter 22
Arianna
I run my fingers over the paintbrushes, my gift from Zander. They’re the most beautiful brushes I’ve ever seen, with high quality mahogany handles, exquisite markings and fine, durable bristles. I press them to my chest, a fuzzy feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach. I feel like a stupid little girl, but I don’t care. It’s nice to be given something that means so much. Even if it didn’t mean much to him.
These are even better than the gown Zander gifted me. And I can see myself putting them to good use, already thinking about the masterpieces I’ll paint. I’ll cherish them long after this contract is over.
When this is over.
The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I’m getting used to Zander and his charming personality, and I feel like I’m just starting to get to know him.
But do you really know him? says that annoying voice in the back of my head. This is all supposed to be fake, a make-believe courtship. You can’t really know a man who is hiding behind a facade.
I chew my lower lip, dropping the brushes into my lap.
I don’t want to believe that everything Zander says or does is inauthentic. When he looks at me, fire burning in his eyes, it looks real. Each time I’m with him, I can feel the emotion emanating from him. I feel the connection we have between each other. It can’t be fake, can it? Why would he ask me to stay as long as I like, if it was make-believe?
Because he wants you to believe it’s real.
I don’t know what to believe at this point. I feel so many conflicting emotions. I want Zander. And I want him to truly want me, too. But I know less about him than I do about Danny. And that doesn’t sit well with me.
The voice resurfaces with, Well, you have the whole house to yourself, why don’t you find out?
For once, I agree with the voice. I set the brushes aside and roll out of bed, my feet causing the floor to creak as I slip on one of his shirts and walk out of the bedroom and into the hall.
I take a tour of the house, going room from room looking around for anything untoward, taken in by the opulence. I’m really impressed with the house, every room filled with expensive furniture and superbly decorated. It’s large, luxurious and beautiful. But after a while, it starts to feel empty. There are too many rooms for just one man. Zander has to be lonely living here.
But he has me now.
I huff out a chuckle at my wishful thinking as I run my hand over a painted glass vase in one of the extra bedrooms. I bet it costs more than what I make in a month. For how long will he have me? A month? Two? I shake my head. It might be not much longer than that.
I make my way back into the hallway, my bare feet padding along the gleaming hardwood floors. I try to get rid of the overwhelming feeling that I don't belong here, but with each step the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach grows and grows. I'm about to turn around and go back to the room to grab the gown and my purse to get out of here, when I see a picture frame on a small dark stand near the entryway to one of the common areas of the house.
I pick it up out of instinct. It doesn't belong here either. I already know it. While everything else in Zander’s house is expensive and each item holds an air of luxury, this picture frame is common. And the photo inside it, just a snapshot.
It’s an old family picture with Zander, maybe ten years old, with his father and a lady who I presume to be his mother. She’s a beautiful woman, with long, flowing blonde hair and a shapely figure. I can definitely see where Zander got some of his looks from.
But what attracts me most to her is the way she looks at Zander. It's the way all mothers look at their children. A heavy feeling settles on my chest as I stare at his mother's face.
It takes me a moment to realize that I’ve met Zander’s father, but not his mother. I find it odd that he’s never mentioned her before at all. The idea hits me that I should Google Zander’s family. I bet there’s at least some dirt on his father… maybe some on Zander, too.
I’m so dumb. I should’ve done this the moment I found out about Zander.
I'm quick to go back to the bedroom and take out my cell. I bring up the web browser, tapping in Zander Payne. The first few results yield nothing. I go several pages without seeing anything actually related to Zander or his family. It's all business news. I let out a sigh of relief when I don’t really find anything. At least Zander doesn’t have a sinister past.
I’m about to search for something more specific when one headline grabs my attention
Rich Socialite takes her own life after husband’s affair.
Marie Payne, forty-eight-year-old wife of wealthy hedge fund investor Thomas Payne jumped to her death after learning of her husband’s years-long affair with his mistress. Sources say in the week leading up to her death, Marie was so distraught she locked herself aw
ay in her room for days at a time, refusing to come out for food or drink.
Marie leaves behind a young son, Zander Payne…
“Oh,” I breathe, tearing my eyes away from the article, tears filling my eyes. My body seems to go cold all at once, the large bed feeling like an abyss as I bring the comforter up and around me. I check the date on the article and think back to how old Zander was.
He was just a boy. I wipe under my eyes as the sting of the tears hits me out of nowhere.
No wonder why he keeps secrets, I say to myself, shaking my head and holding my tears at bay. No wonder why Zander doesn’t trust people.
I thought I had a painful life, but at least I’m still alive. A lot of my issues, I caused myself. Being a problem child, being wild and partying. But his mother’s death? Zander had no control over that. No control over the betrayal that led to such an earth-shattering loss.
Letting out a deep, trembling sigh, I turn my phone off and settle into the comforter, imagining how hard that had to be on him. I’m no longer in the mood to go snooping around. After finding that out, a part of me is content in letting Zander keep whatever secrets he has close to his chest. It probably gives him comfort, more control over his life. And who am I to say that he owes me complete access?
I look toward the door to his bedroom, feeling a swell of emotion. I need a release. I need to do something that’ll make me feel better.
There’s only one thing that I know will do that.
I throw the covers off of me and go back through his house looking for his office. After finding pen and paper, I make my way to the piano room, sprawling out on the floor.
And I begin to draw.
Chapter 23
Zander
My hand tightens on the leather shifter as I park my Mercedes in the garage. I lean back in my seat after turning the keys and pulling them out. My forehead is pinched as I stare at the garage door to my home.
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