Page 73 of Under Your Scars

The tenderness in those three words makes my heart flutter, and it would be so natural and feel so right to say it back.

I don’t know why I can’t, and that frightens me—because what if he’s right about the bad thing he wants to tell me?

What if I stop believing him?

Mykonos truly is as stunning as the photos.

I never really thought I’d have a chance to visit. At least not for a long time. My dream destination was simply that. A dream.

But Christian and all his irritating perfection, makes all my dreams come true.

We have brunch at an oceanside cafe with the breeze flowing around us. I have the most delicious Croque Madame on the planet, and a mimosa. After our meal, we walk along the beach, hand in hand. By the time we circle back to the dock, we need to prepare for the meeting this afternoon.

Christian dresses behind the closed—and locked—bathroom door, only emerging when he’s fully dressed in a suit, sans his signature red tie. It’s loosely slung around his neck. I approach him slowly, already primped and ready to go. I tie a neat Windsor knot around his neck, straightening it for him and then fastening his initial-monogrammed cufflinks around his wrists.

“Did you know you have the same middle name as my dad? I think if we have a son one day, we should keep the tradition going.”

“There you go, talking about kids again.” He pokes me in the stomach. “Is there something you’re hiding from me in there?”

My face turns bright red. “No! No, I’m not…I didn’t mean…”

“I’mkidding,” he says, kissing my forehead, and leading me to the office where the meeting will be held as the investors start arriving.

Much to my dissatisfaction, the investors were very adamant that they wanted a private audience with Christian, so I was shuffled out of the room along with the two other women that tagged along. I linger in the hallway outside of the office.

After about ten minutes, I’m bored out of my mind. I understand that it’s an important meeting, but I’m going to remind him about what he promised to me the day we got here. If he closes this deal, he’s going to fuck me so hard they’ll hear me across the world. I pull out my phone and send Christian a text that he may just ignore, but I don’t care.

Me: My fingers don’t feel the same as yours.

I pair the text with a quick photo I snapped of my fingers just under the waistline of my underwear, easily accessible from my short dress. I press send before I can think twice about it.

I decide to stop lingering in the hallway like a maniac. As I walk past the door to the office, it flies open, and Christian grabs me by the scruff of my neck and forces me to my knees right there in the hallway, where anyone can see us.

“Take off my belt,” he growls down at me, his eyes dark and his jaw tight. “Now.”

I do as he says, keeping eye contact with him as I unbuckle it and then slide it out of the loops. He takes it from me, wraps it around my arms, and buckles it again so that my arms are fully restrained at my sides. He begins to pull his cock out of his pants, and when it’s free, it’s already hard and red and angry.

“You wanted my attention, baby, and now you’ve got it. Now be a good girl and suck.” He grabs a fistful of my loose hair and tugs me to his length, and I welcome him into my mouth. I smear the salty drop of precum along my lips and then lick up the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully in my mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as his eyebrows knit together.

My arms are pinned to my side, so I have no choice but to stay still and take it as he fucks my mouth like he’s furious with me for interrupting his meeting. He pulls out of my mouth and jerks me up to my feet, before roughly pulling my panties down my legs and making me step out of them.

I expect him to pocket them, but he shoves them in my mouth and then presses my chest into the wall of the hallway. “Don’t make a sound, Elena, or I won’t let you cum.”

I’m completely at his mercy like this, gagged and bound and pushed against a wall of the office where his investors can very possibly hear everything that’s happening on this side.

Christian doesn’t draw this out. He fucks me deep and hard in the hallway. My arousal is dripping down my legs and he’s growling into my ear, trying to keep quiet himself. Finally, he snakes his hand around to rub my clit. “Cum,” he demands, and the feeling of him spilling inside me sends me over the edge, my pussy fluttering and squeezing until he has nothing left to give me.

I’m still pressed against the wall, trying to catch my breath as he loosens his belt and puts it back on, adjusting his slacks and shirt to hide that post-sex state of unkempt that I’m still fully in.

He spins me around and gently tugs my panties out of my mouth, pressing his lips to mine with a satisfied breath. “Behave,” he warns, and then with a smirk, he goes back into his office like nothing happened.

A half hour later, I’m sipping on a glass of wine and scrolling through Instagram, when a notification pops up.

I click the notification and see that Christian has tagged me in a photo—one of me in this exact moment. My eyes shoot to the other side of the deck, where Christian is leaning against a bar top, ankles crossed, holding up a wine glass as if to toast me, with a smug grin on his face. I look down at my phone. The caption of the post simply reads,Mine.

In an unexpected turn of events, that tiny glimpse into his personal life sent his stock prices skyrocketing. The growth is so explosive, that by the time we board the plane to go home, Christian is worth500.Billion.Dollars.

He chooses to celebrate his historic success with a bottle of red wine and his tongue on my clit because, in his words, I’m ‘the single best pairing with a good Cabernet’.