Page 46 of The Secretary Volume II

When he enters me, it’s not slow.

It’s not tender.

It’s brutal.

He fucks me like he’s trying to forget something.

Or maybe like he wants me to remember it for him.

26

Gillian

The air leaves my lungs in a stuttered gasp.He drives into me hard, relentless.One hand wraps around my throat, the other anchoring my hip.Not to hold me close.

To hold me still.

His pace is punishing.Measured.Like he’s keeping time with every insult he doesn’t say.

I arch into him like it’s going to save me from something worse.The betrayal isn’t in my voice—it’s in the heat he draws from me, the way my body pulses, as if it’s grateful.I hate that part.Hate that it still wants him more than it wants justice.

My body responds because he’s trained me to break beautifully.

He watches my face the entire time.Watches the tremble in my lips, the panic in my breath, the flush that rises against my will.He doesn’t close his eyes.He wants to see it.

Every second.

Every reaction.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his breath hot against my ear.

I try to speak, but he thrusts harder, and my words die in my throat.

“Don’t be weak,” he says.“Or I’ll stop pretending this is about pleasure.”

My voice is a wrecked thing when I use it.A whisper.A moan.A name I never should have learned to say like this.

“Ellis…”

His hand tightens against my throat.“Louder.”

I obey.I don’t know if it’s because I want to or because I’m afraid of what he’ll do if I don’t.

When I come, it’s under duress.Forced out of me like a confession.

I hate that I can’t control it.

I hate that he knows it.

I hate that he doesn’t stop.He fucks through my orgasm, driving deeper, harder, until the ache becomes something colder.Something hollow.

When he finally finishes, it’s with a guttural sound that vibrates through both of us.

He doesn’t collapse.

He doesn’t hold me.

He pulls out slowly, his breath controlled, his gaze detached.

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