Page 36

Dionysus

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Where are you going?” she asks as soon as I get up.

“To get food. I haven’t eaten anything all day. I came straight from Paris, and I don’t like plane meals, not even my own.”

It’s six in the morning, and I thought that after hours of not giving her any rest, other than a few naps, she would be sleeping, but she seems to be a light sleeper.

She kneels on the bed, completely naked, and my cock responds to the sight of her delicious body.

“I’m hungry too.”

“Come with me,” I say, offering my hand.

“I need to get dressed.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

Her face flushes. “No. You’ve seen it all.”

“Yes, but I never get tired of seeing you naked. No one will come today, just the bodyguards, but they don’t come in when I’m here.”

I go to the closet and take out one of my shirts. I’ve already changed into boxers, so we’ll be relatively decent.

I stop in front of her and hold out the shirt, but when she starts to take it, I move away because I don’t want her to cover herself.

“I don’t know if I should lend you a shirt. Why hide my paradise?”

The blush increases. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No, I think you’re fucking perfect. Pretty doesn’t even come close to defining it.”

I see her hiding a smile at the compliment.

“You weren’t aware of that?”

“No. I’ve never given much importance to appearance, except at your brother’s wedding, when I felt like a princess.” She stretches out her hand. “Can I borrow it, please? I can’t eat naked.”

Instead of handing her the shirt, I move closer and put it on her. I fasten the buttons and roll the sleeves up to her elbows.

“I’m not a child. I could have done that on my own.”

“I know, but my need for control is too great.” Despite what I say, I am confused again because, yes, I am a born controller, but never in relation to my women, only to my life in general.

What the hell are you doing to me, girl?

“You said you felt like a princess at Madison and Zeus’s wedding. Never been to a party like that before?” I take her hand and pull her with me out the room.

“My hometown has five thousand inhabitants, and the people are simple. There are no parties like that. When they get married, it’s homemade food, loud music, and lots of dancing. Just that. No eight-thousand-dollar dresses.”

She pauses, and when I look at her, I see that she seems embarrassed.

“It makes me sick just thinking about how much it cost. Zoe forced me to accept it as a gift. And the sandals. I’ll never be able to pay her back.”

“I’ll have a credit card drawn up for you. Buy whatever you want.”

“No, my salary is already more than enough, and please, right now, I don’t want to talk about money.”

I stop walking and turn to face her. “Money is a means to an end. I just want you to have everything you want. It has nothing to do with what happened between us.”

“What I desire cannot be bought. Don’t worry, I don’t need anything. Unless there’s another wedding coming up soon. But I have more than a year’s worth of clothes. Elina changed my entire wardrobe when I started working at the library. I don’t like talking about money with you. It feels wrong after what we did.”

I look at her innocent face and understand for the first time that the difference between us is not just about age or social position. Cecily, no matter how sassy she is, is na?ve and pure.

“I want to talk about our arrangement,” I say.

She stares at me in silence for a few seconds, and I know she understands what I’m talking about: I want more.

“I can’t think when I’m hungry. My stomach is growling, Mr. Kostanidis. I need a lot of food.”

She runs away, and despite being pissed at realizing she’s running away from the conversation, I smile.

Cecily Bradley is as unpredictable as a summer storm.

I don’t like storms, normally. Definitely not unexpected ones. But I really like everything that comes from her.

I won’t bring up the subject of the deadline we set yesterday again. Instead, I watch her as she eats. “You were really hungry.”

“I eat like a dockworker after a forty-eight-hour day with no breaks. Nothing elegant.”

I like the way she uses irony against herself. It’s not a lack of self-esteem, I realize. It’s characteristic petulance.

“Have you been doing this all your life?”

“Eaten a lot?” she asks, continuing to devour the omelet with a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Whenever possible.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

She looks away and shrugs. “Exactly what I said: if I have leftovers, I eat a lot. Otherwise, I do it in moderation. I can adapt very easily.”

It’s like having an iron ball rolling around in my stomach. “Have you ever gone hungry?”

She takes the jug of juice and fills her own glass. “Do you want more?” she asks, ignoring my question, and I shake my head. “I think I don’t gain weight because I have good genes. My mother was thin.”

I allow her to change the subject because I don’t want to embarrass her, but now I want to know more about her past. “Tell me about your life in Kansas.”

She gets up without answering me and goes to the fridge, coming back with whipped cream. “We’ve already talked a lot. I want to make a fantasy come true,” she says, sitting on the table, in front of my chair, but not parting her thighs.

I know what she’s doing: steering the situation toward sex, because Cecily doesn’t want to talk about the past. I desperately hunt for any ounce of willpower within me to tell her no, but it’s no use.

I growl, irritated, and separate her thighs. Her pussy is glowing with excitement.

I stand up and, grabbing the sides of her shirt, I tear it from her body, turning it into a rag that I discard on the floor. The buttons litter the kitchen floor.

I push her back onto the table and plant her feet on the surface. Without saying anything, I open the tube of cold cream and spread it over her breasts and pussy.

“Don’t move or I’ll stop.” I lick the coating on her sex, and the sweet mixture along with her taste delights me.

She undulates with each touch of my tongue, moaning softly, but I don’t stop until I make her come. When she gives in to her climax, I pull her legs around me and thrust myself deep into her silky cavern.

My mind is a mess of anger and lust because I don’t like being manipulated, and for the first time, I wonder why she is so skittish.

Yes, I know that our relationship involves risk, but I’m sure that this madness that hit me after we had sex is not one-sided. Yet it seems easy for her to turn her back on what we have.

What is she hiding from me? Because there has to be something that makes her so sure that she should run away from me.

Is my intensity scaring her?

“Was that what you wanted? To get fucked?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“No, you’re lying. You wanted to escape the conversation.”

“I always want you. I didn’t lie.”

“Yes, I know you want me. Right now your pussy is pulsing around my cock, but I know you’re hiding from me too and I don’t like it. I’m going to unravel you,” I warn, thrusting into her without letup.

I slide a hand over the curve of her ass, caress a nipple with my thumb, and nibble her neck.

Tension and urgency, as well as anger, gradually give way to pleasure.

It’s an angry fuck, but she looks as needy as I feel. She moves, following the rhythm, and for a long time I devour her without stopping.

I grab her neck, applying a little pressure, which seems to excite her even more, as she then climaxes, making a hoarse sound.

Heat and a shock of lust explode inside me, and I follow, pouring myself completely into her.

The feeling of her wet walls is delicious, and seconds later I understand why: we fucked without protection.

“I didn’t use a condom.” I’m still lying on her body, on the table, but after I say it, she pushes me away.

“Oh my God!” Cecily walks away, but she doesn’t seem angry, just desperate.

“Calm down, I’ve never had unprotected sex, except with my?—"

“I know. I listened when you told me that, but you should have also listened when I told you that I don’t take the pill.”

“I listened, but just now, I lost control. I wanted to be inside you and I forgot to protect us. I will take responsibility for my recklessness, however.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if you are pregnant, I will marry you. There is no other way out.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. I apologize for my carelessness, but if my child is inside your body, there is no other solution.”

She looks at me, pale, but doesn’t respond to what I say.

Another child was not in my plans, but if it happens, there is no way I would allow them to be raised away from me.

She starts to leave the kitchen.

“Don’t run away.”

“I’m not running away.”

“Yes, you are. Come here.”

She walks slowly, awkwardly, but when I open my arms, she accepts my shelter and buries her face in my chest. “I’m terrified.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I will be by your side if you are carrying my heir.”

“Out of obligation.”

“Out of responsibility. ”

“It’s the same thing. I wanted something casual and now . . .”

“Now, maybe what we did will have consequences, but there is no going back on what happened. It’s done. I won’t let you walk away. According to your words, I have one more day by your side,” I say, as if I really intend to stick with that.

“You’re kidding, right? You still want to have sex with me even though I might be . . . ?”

“I do. I told you I was going to turn you inside out in these twenty-four hours, Cecily. Believe me, we’ve barely started.”