Page 48 of Dare To Live

My mind goes fuzzy at the exquisite torture. The rush of sensation he always evokes in me as I rush along a path toward release. Yet even that isn’t enough. I need more. I need everything from him.

All of it.

“Stay in that position,” he snaps when I try to move.

I twist my head to look at him over my shoulder. His dark and turbulent gaze meets mine. “I want to see you.”

There’s no warmth or love in his expression as he shakes his head. “I don’t want to see you. Keep your face in the pillow.”

“Eli—” His name turns into a yelp as his palm cracks down on my ass cheek, leaving it stinging.

“You’re my plaything right now. I make the rules, remember?”

“But I want to kiss you and touch you.” The words come out in a whine. “I need you to play with my breasts and my clit.”

“You wanted to be fucked, and that’s what I’m giving you.” There’s no give in his voice.

“But that’s—”

“Exactly what you asked for. You want closure, remember, so that’s what you’re getting. If you don’t like it, you know how to stop it.”

His words are icy claws around my heart. “No.”

The look in his eyes burns me right down to my toes. Hands tangling in my hair, he forces my head down and my cheek against the pillow, and thrusts into me fiercely, his rhythm relentless. I lose all sense of being one with him, my mind disconnecting what’s happening now to how it used to be between us. This is nothing but cold and clinical sex.

Punishment for me leaving him?

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I still can’t tell him to stop.

I close my eyes when my orgasm hits. The intoxicating feeling washes over me, and I shatter into a bone-melting climax. Eli pumps into me a few more times before following me over. His cock throbs inside me, and he slumps over my back.

Silence fills the room. The only sound is our harsh labored breathing.

“Fuck.” Eli straightens, pulling out of me. I wince at the roughness of his action.

A second later, the bedroom door slams shut.

Alone, numb, and confused, I remain in position, naked, ass in the air, in the dying embers of my release. After a moment, when it finally sinks in that he’s not coming back, I roll carefully onto my side, I lie there, still and silent, shivering. My mind replays what just happened in a painstakingly slow reel.

Is this really what I’d wanted? A quick, meaningless fuck?

No, it’s not.

Eli did exactly what he threatened. He took what he wanted from my body, with no care for how I felt. I can’t even be angry about it. He’d laid it out in clear words, and I’d agreed to it. There had been no cuddling, no affection, no gentle touches. After the hate sex we had in the past, he’d always held me afterward, made me feel desired. He’d never just walked out.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

My stomach is a heavy pit of self-disgust at the realization.

What had I been trying to achieve? To see if some spark between us was still there. To see if Eli still wanted me as much as I want him.

Instead of closure, all I feel is empty, dirty, and used. Eli did what he set out to do. To show me there’s nothing left between us—only the ashes of our past.

There’s nothing for me here.

Nothing.

Tears well, oozing through my closed lashes to trickle down my cheeks, in humiliation.

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