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Chapter 29
Chapter 29
I spit at him and slap him in the chest, stupidly, not caring if he goes back to hard thrusting. I’m so not ready to back down, and maybe he might be the first guy who gets me to an orgasmic climax with a few more aggressive moves if I rile him up again. I can hate him and still get off on his manhood. Alexi just watches me for a moment before pulling out of me and gets up, yanking me with him harshly by my arm and hauling me like I am a weightless nothing. I am somewhere between rage, hatred and ‘get back inside of me and finish this, you arsehole’. My body is overheating from his attention and my skin blushed rosy, everywhere. Alexi takes a second to look me over and just grins in that self-assured ‘master of his universe’ way of his.
He practically throws me on the couch. Somehow, I trip and end up face down, my face buried harshly on black leather that starts suffocating me. I pull my hands to lever myself up, instantly trying to rectify my position and try to breathe, but he has my wrists faster than I can pull them and yanks them behind my back cruelly. I have no way of getting up from this bent over position or refuse his advances while held this way. Immediate horror hitting home that despite my refusal, he’s going to fuck me this way. I start fighting him, wriggling and making smothered yells and cries into the smooth fabric blinding me. Choking myself as I panic and squirm when he grabs my hip from behind to manoeuvre me into doggy position. Kicking my ankles apart and I almost crumble to my knees with the sudden movement—he has me powerless, my legs shaking and giving out as fear consumes me and I try like crazy to get my wrists from his cruel biting hold.
A wave of terror overtakes me and I literally freak out at being face down while he tries to take me from behind. This is one thing that sends me into a psychotic rage and fear, and I will battle to the death before I let anyone do this to me again. That inner mental crazy who occasionally surfaces, lashes out and fights, twists and turns.
Strength from God knows where. I push all my weight onto my chest and use my legs to break his hold on me, tears streaming and smearing across the couch as I cry out in desperation. Panic consuming
me and turning me into a blubbering emotional mess in a nanosecond. I manage to get loose, enough to flip to my back and pull myself fully onto the sofa, to safety. Using my feet to shove him away as I curl up defensively and I can’t help the eruption of words that come out of me.
‘‘NO! NO! NO! GET FUCKING OFF ME. STOP IT! DON’T TOUCH ME!’’ I scream at him, lifting hands and legs defensively in readiness to fight, to save myself. A deranged little wildcat who has been backed into a corner and not caring about the spectacle of nakedness I am like this. He just pauses and looks at me as though I have lost my ever-loving mind. ‘‘What the hell are you doing?’’ He lifts his hands away, no longer trying to capture me and just looks blank. That typical Carrero response as I break and sob, hating that he reduced me to panic induced tears of fear. He has no idea how afraid he makes me or how doing that to me adds a whole new level of trauma. I have memories and scars that he knows nothing about.
I’m breathing heavily and feeling stupid for my overreaction, but I just can’t. It’s how HE, that bastard boyfriend of my mother’s, always used to do this to me … hold me face down, suffocating in the blankets of my bed and hurt me from behind. He made me stand that way and if I buckled while he did it, then he would beat me black and blue and start again. I can’t be taken from behind, it just makes me flip out irrationally and all I can see, hear, feel and smell is that fucking room back home and how many times he made me take this, tied, bound and gagged.
I was a child.
Warm tears slide down my cheeks and I just feel stupid and ashamed that he broke me enough to see this part. That I had a moment of weakness with him of all people and let my past and present collide so openly while playing into his hands and giving him more fuel for that sadistic smug mind of his. I swear since the day I met him he has been pulling apart the carefully laid bricks of my unbreakable wall and ruining the entire persona I built for myself.
I don’t know how he even does it. I hate him so much!
‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks again more edge to his tone as I stay in my stupidly childish position, holding up my palms and feet as though somehow nakedly I can stop him in this way. I have not a chance in hell of stopping the freight train that is Carrero, trembling like a pathetic feeble kid and sobbing in front of the one person who has complete immunity to tears.
‘‘Someone hurt me this way, repeatedly … Please don’t.’’ It comes out impulsively, broken and small and I curse myself for giving him this weapon over me. Information is everything to him and he uses your own scars against you effectively. I just feel so raw and fragile and start scrambling to rebuild the self-defence system I normally hide behind.
Alexi just looks completely unemotional and moves back, giving me room as I slowly lower my limbs, but his eyes never leave mine. I wipe my face and grab the grey fur throw from the couch and haul it over myself pathetically; needing a moment to regroup and put this shit back to bed. I feel vulnerable and way too wide open and eye him with zero trust. Embarrassed, humiliated and aware that I just put myself out there in a stupidly vulnerable position. Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.
I never fall apart anymore, I never let that stuff resurface and yet somehow the way he was being, the sense of being controlled and hurt, he brings it all back to the surface and has done from day one. I hate the effects he has over me and this was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake.
‘‘Who hurt you this way?’’ His question takes me completely by surprise and I just blink at him brokenly. It’s not a gentle probing question, but one of command and a need to know. Carrero always needs to know, always questions things, and yet never seems to give a truly human response no matter how sad the answer. There is something wrong with him mentally and he is completely broken as a person.
‘‘What?’’ I need more time to get my head together.
‘’Who hurt you?’’ He repeats it and sits on the coffee table, uncaring about being completely naked and clearly comfortable in his own skin. He just stares at me, with the same emotionless blank stare and
waits for an answer. There’s nothing behind those pale eyes except calm, and I was wrong to think someone like him would feel anything for a woman being broken and tearful. It’s not a deterrent, and he probably wants to get it out and over and done with, so I will open my legs and let him finish what he was doing. He’s calculated enough to know it’s the fastest way to resume things.
‘’You did, on the floor. Leave me alone. I’m going to bed.’’ I try and deflect but when I try to get up he pushes me back down harshly, in no mood for games, and he’s in no rush to let me go either. I curse him internally and wipe another flood of tears from my cheeks, my body sagging with emotional fatigue and I have lost all cravings for hot sex now. ‘‘You belong to me … if someone hurt you then I want to know. I’ll take care of it.’’ Deadpan and completely serious. I blanch at him in stupefaction and then start to laugh manically, disbelievingly, and rather insanely.
‘‘Yeah sure Dahling, go find some fucking bastard who made my life a living hell long before your time. Good luck with that. What makes you are any better than him? You both figure you own me and I’m yours to do whatever you want to. The only difference between you and him is that you don’t hit me for your pleasure … yet—but you just inflicted pain on me in other ways so it’s not much of a step up.’’ I let out a sob and get angry at myself for letting him do this to me, letting him get to me. I get up shakily with my temper in full fury, no longer in control of the hot tears running down my face and Alexi doesn’t react, he just stands slowly and meets my small height. The throw is heavy and tugging down as I try to lift it up, but he just yanks it away and throws it down again. So I’m stood exposed, as he is, face to face.
‘’Are you done?’’ It’s all he fucking says, and I swear I seriously think about slapping him for a second time. I shake my head at him in disbelief and shove him hard in the chest so he moves back a foot. Hating him with venom and for once it might be nice to have his human side show up when I require its presence. Sometimes, even I long for someone to care.