Page 104 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

He’s warm and hard, and the more he pulls on my nipples with his teeth, the harder I seek out friction. My cunt lubricates his dick with each grinding motion, back and forth, bringing us both pleasure, but never enough.It’s not enough.

Finally, his hand releases my breast and clamps around my throat, holding me as he positions himself over me. And then, he’s pushing in, inch by torturously slow inch. I moan and writhe, but I don’t say a word.

Once he’s filled me all the way to the hilt, he releases his hold on my neck, instead cradling my head. He presses down on me gently, and then, with all the care in the world, he thrusts into me. I dig my feet into the bed, hoping it will drive him harder, but it doesn’t.

He plants soft kisses across my collarbone, he sucks gently at my lip, he caresses the tops of my nipples through the lace, but he doesn’t do a single thinghard.

It’s infuriating that allthatled to this. It’s not that it isn’t good. It’s fucking incredible. At least it would have been if it had happened a week ago. Now, it’s heartbreaking.Now, I’m just angry, and here he is, still treating me like an invalid when he has his dick inside me.

“Harder,” I finally bite out. My first words to him since,“I hate you.”He shakes his head while running his tongue up my neck and behind my ear. “Stop fucking me like I’m fragile, Alexander. I’m not delicate.” I take his face between both of my hands so that he has no choice but to look at me.

“No, baby,” he leans forward to kiss me. “Not delicate,rare.”Well fuck.I don’t need him to make me love him more.

“I hate you,” I say it again, meaning it more this time. Still trying to get him to be rough with me, but it doesn’t motivate him. If anything, it backfires, and he slows down considerably.

He thrusts his hips forward in a slow, fluid motion, pushing against me but holding me close. His thumb massages my neck while his other hand moves down to my hip, settling in the spot between my hip bone and my abdomen. It’s the perfect indentation for his thumb to fit while his fingers wrap around my backside.

As one thumb pushes back and forth against my neck, he looks down, watching as he enters me, looking at his other hand holding me.

“This is my favorite spot on your whole body, you know that?” I shake my head because I didn’t think Alex had a favorite spot on my body. “It’s a perfect fit.” He watches his cock sliding into my body, “Just like this.” Why is he being like this?Why now?

“Just fuck me, Alex. Please.” He shakes his head, and a tear rolls out of the corner of my eye.

“Let me make love to you,” he whispers against my cheek. I want to push him off of me even though I would just beg him to come back.

“But you don’t love me anymore, so just fuck me. Use me. You don’t have to make this last on my account.” I’m lying through my goddamn teeth. I never want this to end. Any of it. Butfuck.

Both hands are off me in an instant. Then they’re flying up, pinning my wrists above my head. He stops thrusting and holds me there. But I’m not going to be submissive to him. I would get my pleasure with or without him.

As he holds still, I move my hips, planting my feet onto the bed for better leverage. I give him a sick sort of smile because I don’t want to buy into this version of Alex. I can’t.

“I didn’t mean it, Emma. I-I,” he stutters, and I stop moving, staring at him. His breathing shudders before he says, “I loveyouabove all others. AndthatI fucking mean.” My chest seizes.Aboveher?Morethan her?

I don’t believe him, but I can pretend. Maybe he thinks he’s giving me mercy by telling me that, but it’s the opposite.

“You’re just making it harder, you know that, right?” He nods.

“Just give me tonight, okay? Just one more night,” he asks. I actually choke on a sob and catch it with a crude laugh because I would give him every night if he asked.

But he isn’t asking. So, one more night it is.

I nod even though I roll my eyes, and he starts kissing my tears away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. I’m sorry, too, but I’m done telling him that. Done being the fool who apologizes for someone hurting me, who apologizes for the sins of someone else.

When he finally releases my wrists, I wrap my arms around him, running my fingers up his neck and into the back of his hair.One night.That’s all I’d get. So, I let my hands memorize the feel. I let my eyes memorize the color.The color of caramel, I decide. It’s the color of the sugar and butter right before it hardens.

I let my hands come down to his short, trimmed beard, and I run my fingertips against it, vowing to remember the feel of the short bristles.

I understand now. I get it. He isn’t making love to me; he’s trying to commit me to memory.

He begins moving against me again. And my hands don’t stop. They roam over the “v” between his brows, where they always come together when he’s deep in thought.

Then there’s the freckle high on his right cheek.

The scar on his chin, where his beard grows, slightly hindered.

The length of his throat and the rounded nature of his Adam’s apple.