Page 19 of Breaking the Annulment

“Oh god. What’s happening?”

Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she attempted to ride out the intense sensations. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t control her breathing, it was choppy and ragged, her hips unconsciously rocking against the cool intrusion.

In response, Michalis spanked her even harder.

“Oh!” Aurelia's cry of both pain and pleasure mingled as a tidal wave of sensations rocked her. She’d never experienced anything like this before, the dual sensations setting off a chain reaction. Her inner muscles began contracting and releasing insync with every fiery smack on her bottom, sending ribbons of desire spiraling outward, consuming her.

Tears streamed down her face; whether they were from pain or pleasure, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she was racing toward the most intense orgasm of her life, and to get there, she needed more––more spanks, more cold intrusion, more everything.

Abruptly, Michalis stopped spanking her and withdrew the device.What the fuck?!Confused, she didn’t protest.

“Get dressed.” He didn’t wait to see if she complied, instead turning to stow the items back in the cooler and snap it shut.

Not understanding, yet unwilling to ask––for answers, for more, for anything––she followed his command and put the panties back on.

Her bottom was on fire, especially without the cold to distract her, but the rest of her was extremely sensitive to every tiny sensation; the slightest brush of fabric against her nipples was almost unbearable.

Since her wrists were still bound, she couldn’t put the shirt on, so she had to get creative. With a little effort, she was able to tie the two sleeves in a knot. Then she worked it around to her back, leaving the bulk of the shirt hanging down in the front. Why he hadn’t untied her wrists was beyond her, unless the ‘lesson’ wasn’t over yet.

She’d be damned if she was going to ask––double damned if it was over. Wait. What the hell was she thinking? Of course she wanted it to be over. Didn’t she?

Next came the shoes. Why the hell not? He said get dressed, and she was wearing shoes when she got in the limo.

As soon as she looked up, as dressed as she was going to get, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a car key. Pressing the button, the doors to the limo unlocked. He stepped out, then offered his hand to help her out. With trembling fingers, sheplaced her hand in his and allowed him to assist her out of the car.

Once she was out, he dropped her hand, then immediately tunneled his hands into her long hair, slanting his lips across hers, invading her mouth, hot and needy, before she could protest.

Against all reason, she melted into the kiss, her softness yielding to his hard frame. Everything about her said yes. Her aching body, not in the slightest recovered from the near orgasm, rubbed enticingly against his, inviting, demanding more.

Yes, this is more like it!She stood on the tip of her toes to get closer, looping the rope behind his neck so that she could pull him down, sink her fingers into the back of his hair, get as close to him as she could, her breasts plastered against him, his hard length pressed against her belly. Her body was on fire. She didn’t care if they were enemies. She needed him inside her.

Suddenly, he tore himself away. Without so much as a backward glance, he began walking away.

“I––I don’t understand.”

Without turning around, he called over his shoulder, “You will.”

She stood there, on fire, alone, bereft, for a long time. Long enough to think about the lesson he wanted her to learn: enemy or not, he’d made sure they both knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and the only way he was going to finish what they started was if she followed him inside on her own.

There was no one around. No guards. No one making sure she didn’t run. And like an idiot, she’d stood there for twenty minutes, staring after him like a wounded puppy. The door to the limo was open, the key lay on the seat. She could try to escape again.

What was the point of running?She argued with herself. She couldn’t get far enough before he caught her again. Not today, anyway. Yes, she could steal the limo. How far would that get her? Assuming it had a full tank of gas, a couple hundred miles, at best? Then what? She would be in the same situation she’d just come from; no money and no phone, with an angry husband determined to catch her again. And what about tracking on the limo? It was modern and full of electronics, including GPS, so she couldn’t hide where she was going. Bottom line? She could run, if she was determined enough. She could take her chances.Which means if I walk back into the house now, it will be because I choose to do so of my own free will.

Oh, that’s messed up. Is that the lesson I’m supposed to learn? I’m supposed to stop fighting if I choose to stay? And if I want Michalis to finish what he started in the limo, what will that mean? That I accept our marriage, too? Want it?

And what the hell are the ropes supposed to mean?Why did he leave them on?They’re useless.She looked down at her wrists, stretched the joining foot of the rope until it was taut, then relaxed. Her chest began to tighten, her heart squeezing painfully as realization hit her.Bound, but free? Or I’m free to go, but I’m still bound?

She began to shake in earnest. Or both?

Rage burned inside her, and bile rose in the back of her throat. “He might think he’s won, but this isn’t over. Not by a country mile.”

Deliberately, she left the car door open and began walking toward the front of the house. If she was going in, she was going through the front goddamned door.Fuck Michalis! Fuck his lessons! And fuck his symbols! He can go to hell!

She smiled grimly.

He thinks he wants me here? He thinks he’s won? Bring it on, Michalis. This game is just getting started.

9

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