Page 23 of Hawke

Keeping the panties firmly in place, my body bucked violently as the explosive orgasm detonated inside me. Tremor after tremor wracked my body until he’d wrung everything out of me.

At least I thought he had.

When Hawke buried his face deeper into my neck, his tongue lapped at my throbbing pulse just before he bit down. He then started to drive into me again. As he slammed into me repeatedly, another, albeit smaller, orgasm tore through me.

This time, I whimpered through the lace panties, especially when he groaned loudly against my skin, causing me to shudder. His movements slowed considerably before he thrust back into me a final time. His cock swelled against my inner walls, drawing me into another orgasm, this time one I shared with him.

The next few seconds passed by in a blur. I went from being cuffed to the wall to lying atop of a bed in one of the dungeons. Staring at him from beneath drowsy lashes, I was spent. Hawke seemed to be the complete opposite as stood there stoically in front of me. I finally stopped watching him because he only made the dizzying effects of my climax that much worse.

Eventually, I did turn back to him. Through the dim lighting in the room, I could make out his silhouette, so I watched him intently. Hawke remained the epitome of control. Deflated but not destroyed by that revelation, I tried to look on the bright side. Still feeling the effects of the post-orgasmic haze, I forced myself to focus on the present. When he came to bed, I would fall asleep in his arms, then try to rationalize everything later.

That hope was dashed, however, when he went into the small side bathroom, then returned with a cloth. His clothing had been righted, and there were no apparent signs on him that anything had gone down between the two of us. I was practically boneless, immobile now due to physical exhaustion, while he looked ready to return to the party. Surely, he wouldn’t leave me again.

“Here,” he said, thrusting a bottle of water in front of me. “Drink this.”

I took the bottle and twisted the cap off as he ran a damp washcloth between my sticky thighs. I couldn’t help but moan when he’d touch a sensitive spot, not that there weren’t many. Every inch ached from his earlier treatment.

I hadn’t had sex with anyone since that first night with him, and I had definitely never had it the rough way he took me. “Thanks,” I mumbled before taking a sip of water. I hadn’t even realized how thirsty I was until I’d drunk half the bottle.

He finished cleaning me, then moved to the small bathroom connected to the room. Each stride was controlled and precise, but after what we’d just done, I had expected some sign that’d let me know he’d felt something during it, too. Crushingly, it was as if we had done nothing at all. He had completely shaken me to the core, and I had barely made him sweat.

I closed my eyes , remembering the question he’d asked while fucking me. His currently composed state was a direct contradiction to that moment in time. Re-opening my eyes, I hoped for a glimmer of something, and instead narrowed my brows as I watched him open the door. “W-where are you going?”

Hawke turned, leveling me with his gaze. “I need to get back to the party. Are you in any discomfort?”

“No, but I—”

“Very well, then,” he interrupted, before adding, “Goodbye, Miss Maxwell.”

Goodbye?I wanted to beg him not to leave, but knew it’d do nothing more than add to my current humiliation when he left anyway. “G-good night, Sir.”

He paused for a moment, remaining silent as he looked at me one last time. I shivered under the scrutiny of his gaze, and I didn’t even realize until he spoke again why it’d felt like he’d been memorizing every detail about me.

“No, it’s goodbye.” And with those words, he quickly turned and exited the room, leaving me open-mouthed and stunned atop the bed.

I threw my water bottle at the door, hearing the splash of what was left of the liquid on the stone floor. There was no mistaking whether he’d intended to have a repeat romp with me. There was a finality in his voice, which would be the reason for the tears currently pricking my eyelids.

I had never had anyone walk out on me, especially during or right after sex, and now Nathaniel Hawkins had twice. Just as I had the first time he did, I allowed the tears to fall, ignoring the burn as they scorched a trail down my cheeks. I had given him the chance to humiliate me for a second time, and I realized it was more painful now than it’d been in Washington, D.C.

Back then, I’d only been left with burning questions after our initial encounter. Thewhat-ifshad driven me crazy, but nothing had more than wondering what it was I’d missed out on. Now I knew, and having to accept I’d never again feel the way I just had with him, hurt. It did more than that. My heart was literally shattering, and I could feel each jagged piece of it prick my skin.

I had followed his ridiculous rules, and I had given him everything inside of me, but he callously tossed it, and me, aside. The realization that nothing I did would ever be good enough for him sank in, and anything not yet in pieces, crumbled that way too as a long drawn out cry escaped my lips.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered aloud to no one but myself. “What did I do wrong?”

Had he not liked it? Liked me? Usually, I would know, but it was different this time. Even though I hadn’t been able to touch him the way I’d wanted, I did enjoy what had taken place between us, and I knew he had, too. It didn’t make sense. Maybe I’d just been too new to the lifestyle, and inadvertently had done something wrong. While that might be true, the truth was that he was a world-class bastard. Knowing there was a real possibility it was a combination of both did little to ease my mortification.

Hawke might have broken my spirit and brutalized my body, but he wouldn’t take what little pride I still possessed. I should return to the party and act like everything was fine, but even I wasn’t that good of an actress. No, I would leave, but not in the same state I did when leaving The Box that first night.

Determined to walk out with my head held high, I got up and willed my shaky limbs to work as I freshened up in the bathroom. He’d taken me like some whore against the wall, but at least I didn’t have to worry about finding my dress and hoping it was still in one piece. I only needed to adjust it a bit, and after, I splashed some water on my flushed cheeks, then took a deep breath.

Emery would probably be waiting for me, but since I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her, or anyone else for that matter, I grabbed my things, then headed toward the door. If nothing else came from the wasted weeks I’d spent on Hawke, I at least knew the layout of the club, including every possible way out of the building. Choosing the one least likely to be surrounded by people, I slipped out of the room and down the hallway. Other than the doorman, I didn’t encounter anyone else, and I was glad about that once I was outside.

16 – KILLER

Taking a long drag on the cigarette, I inhaled deeply, sucking the smoke into my lungs before exhaling. The white chemical cloud mingled with that of my breath, briefly creating a halo effect around my head. There was nothing angelic about where I was, or what I was there for, though. In fact, it was the complete opposite.

The pureness of the city was at risk, and despite the already present stains on Denver’s moral fabric, a new place had opened which would only make everything worse. This was a disaster in the making, and not one I could clearly ignore any longer.

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