Page 71 of Devil's Riches

14

Alexis

Five minutes later,Nate and I had our own private room in the Mayfair.

Without another word, I kicked off my shoes and rushed to him. He did the same. Our lips crashed against each other as our bodies collided, and he grabbed my ass and lifted me up, letting my legs wrap around his hips.

My fingers tangled in his hair as our lips met again and again. Then Nate turned and dropped me on the bed, letting me sink into the soft velvet coverlet at the end. He stared down at me, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and the top of his pants. I bit my bottom lip and hoisted the skirt of my dress up before shimmying my panties down my legs and kicking them to the floor.

I was still sore from earlier, but I didn’t care. I wanted Nate to use up all the frenetic, excited energy within me. Wanted him to claim my body as his and kill all my doubts and confusions about whatever the hell we had.

I spread my legs, letting him see how wet I was.

“Fuck.” His gravelly voice raised my arousal to new heights. I squirmed on the bed, desperate for him to join me. Then I slid one hand between my thighs to stroke the swollen bud there.

Suddenly Nate was on me, grabbing and caressing and biting and kissing. We went at each other like wild animals, groping and feeling every inch of each other’s bodies as we twisted and turned on the bed, fighting each other for dominance. I was so turned on, so fucking desperate for his touch, that I thought I might find my release before his cock was even near me. I felt my muscles pulsing and clenching, like it had already happened, and a low moan escaped from deep within me.

“Please,” I said breathlessly as Nate pinned my wrists above my head on the coverlet. I needed him inside me. Now.

He moved his hips forward and sank inside me with a low groan, movements intentionally slow and controlled just to torment me. He knew I wanted it hard and fast right now.

I begged him again, feeling zero shame in doing so. “Please, Nate…”

His lips crushed mine, kissing me feverishly to match the rhythm of his thrusts as he sped up. I squeezed my muscles around him, making him groan into my mouth as he sank deeper. “You’re killing me,” I thought I heard him mutter, but it was mostly drowned out by my own voice as I moaned and whimpered beneath him.

Our skin made loud, wet slapping sounds as Nate rolled his hips and moved in and out of me, fucking me brutally hard and fast. I wrapped my legs around his waist and let out a juddering moan as pressure built in my core. One more thrust and I was done, legs shaking and lips spilling endless loud whimpers. The wet heat of my orgasm set Nate off, and he came with a low growl, collapsing on top of me and panting against my chest.

While I was still catching my breath a moment later, Nate went into the bathroom to clean up. I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar old feelings of doubt and regret to creep back in.

And there they were, slithering into my mind with cold intensity, questioning my rationality and judgment. Why do you do it? Why do you keep fucking him when you know you’ll feel bad about it every single time?

I kept doing this, going around and around in the same circle. It brought to mind a saying I once heard. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

That was it. Nate made me crazy. He made me want to throw away all of those past regrets in the hope that everything would somehow be different the next time, but then it never was. So why did I keep falling for it?

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

For weeks, I’d told myself it was just comfort; that we were using each other’s bodies for pleasure while we still could. There were no feelings there. Just pure, unbridled lust stemming from physical attraction and nothing more.

But that was no longer true. Somewhere along the line, I’d started to fall for Nate.

“Oh, no,” I muttered, scrunching my eyes shut. “No, no, no…”

I couldn’t have feelings for him. Couldn’t let myself sink that low. Couldn’t let myself be that weak and pathetic.

It wasn’t that I thought having feelings was a sign of weakness. It was that I thought having feelings specifically for Nate was a sign of weakness.

How could I possibly love someone who’d done such heinous things to me in the past? It wasn’t even the distant past. It was so recent that some of the scars he’d left on me were still fresh and pink.

Clearly, my mind was sick. Twisted and broken. Or maybe it was Nate’s fault this was happening.

Yes, that was it. It was him.

Over the last few weeks, he’d made me feel undeniably alive every time he touched me, even though I was waiting to die at his hand. That was the most fucked up part about it—how he could give me so much when he intended to take everything from me. It sent my mind spinning with confusion every time.

But now… Nate wasn’t actually trying to kill me. He was helping me. That only added to the confusion. What the fuck was going on between us? Was it even real?

I sat up and took a deep breath, trying to rationalize my feelings.

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