Page 103 of When Hearts Surrender

Chapter 37

Denial is a powerfulthing.

The next two days passed by in a blur of lovemaking and pretending our troubles didn’t exist. Every time I mentioned I wanted to check on the outcome of the gala and what the press was saying about Gordon’s disruption, Maxwell would pull me to him and tell me he didn’t give a shit.

He’d wake me up in the morning with his face between my legs, drinking from my pussy like it was his sustenance, or I’d feel him prodding my back as he curled me tightly against him, raining kisses down my neck.

“I promise not to love you,” he groaned as he thrusted into me from behind yesterday afternoon, his thick cock slipping into my wet core as he plastered me against the windows of his bedroom.

Unlike the times before, where we were clothed, and he’d avoid touching me any more than necessary, we were both naked, our bodies writhing as he held me upright, my nipples pebbled from pressing against the cold glass. Even though he was still his usual gruff self, I could feel the palpable connection between us—the way his body would seek mine, his hands touching me, his lips kissing me as though he couldn’t get enough.

It felt different.Wefelt different.

I remembered how he reached around and gripped my neck, turning my face toward him before he crushed his lips to mine. His hips snapped against my ass in a punishing rhythm, each pass of his cock hitting my G-spot.

I thrashed in his tight embrace, my legs trembling as he reached between my thighs with his free hand and circled my clit.

“If someone were outside right now, they would see you being well fucked by your husband, your tits bouncing against the windows, your tight pussy swallowing up my cock like it couldn’t get enough,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and guttural.

Wetness flooded my core at the image he painted.

“My little muse likes it. Being taken in front of people. That turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“Maxwell,” I breathed, my pussy clenching against his punishing thrusts, the pleasure building and gathering from deep within. “I-I’m going to come, oh shit.”

“Yes, little muse,” he rasped. He pistoned harder such that our bodies slammed against each other and the glass window, the sounds lurid. “All your orgasms belong to me now.”

Every muscle in my body tensed as I shook in his embrace, my cries uninhibited, which seemed to only drive him crazier.

“I’m addicted to you, Belle,” he grunted, his fingers rubbing harder at my swollen clit and my body locked in tension, the pleasure reaching a peak.

He bit my neck, and the sharp burst of pain sent me over the edge.

I screamed as I fell over the precipice, euphoria flooding my veins, and I collapsed on his body.

“Fuuuuck,” he roared, his cock lengthening and swelling, before unleashing ropes of cum deep inside me, the heat of his release prolonging my high.

He slammed his mouth over mine, swallowing my cries, his tongue tangling, swiping before he whispered, “I promise not to love you.”

While my heart would flinch every time he said that, I couldn’t help but feel the passion in his voice, see the piercing intensity in his eyes, taste the hunger in his mouth.

He’s lying, I’d tell myself,you’re getting through to him.

But it still hurts to hear, even if I understand his fear. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to convince him to believe me, to believe in us, to believe that fate hasn’t put us together only for a curse to tear us apart.

Now, on the third day after Christmas, I traipse through the secret passageway to the Elysium, eager to distract myself from my thoughts and finish my sketches before Maxwell seduces me with his kisses again.

Silas howls as he runs ahead, clearly excited about me venturing outside of the bedroom I was practically chained to by my sexy husband.

I enter the room and find a fire already roaring in the hearth, two mugs of hot drinks set on the writing desk, the tendrils of the steam twirling before vaporizing in the air. An easel is set up, and a few blank canvases are propped against the wall.

He was here.

Maxwell told me the other day there are two more secret passageways he discovered years ago in the blueprints, but we haven’t visited them yet. One goes to a back garden. Rumors were, the Andersons would use it as an emergency escape route. Another one goes to the rooftop garden, a place I still haven’t visited yet. He said there’s nothing up there, that he himself didn’t care for the abandoned garden.

I’m curious about it, but something holds me back every time I pass by the fourth floor stairwell. A strange feeling, a sadness which seems stronger whenever I approach it, and so I’ve avoided it altogether.

Maxwell said most people didn’t know of these passageways, and the only reason he knew I discovered the Elysium was because of the light shining through the windows when I cleaned out the space.

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