Chapter 10

I stand in the apartment, completely disorientated as he makes us drinks; silent and calm like we're just up here to have our usual chat and arguments, and yet I am completely on edge and cannot relax. He seems normal, unfazed, unaffected, and he hasn't made any moves to touch me since we got in the lift. It's weird, unnerving and I shouldn't be like this. I'm not a virgin or an amateur. Sex is part of what I do or used to. I taught myself how to overcome all the shit that surrounded it emotionally and learned the art of making it feel good instead. Finding the pleasure in it and getting off instead of the trauma of my past. I separated the memories and the act and used sex as a tool to get ahead in life. It got me here to America for a fresh start and I have never looked back. I like sex, I crave it and I have had it on my own terms many times. I have no reason to feel sick with nerves at the thought of sleeping with him, I have slept with hundreds of men in my lifetime and this won't be any different. I just need to separate in my head who I have built him up to be and look at him as any other hot-blooded male. A gorgeous specimen who makes me wet and is built like a guy who should have a sizeable package and the skill to use it. I jump when his fingers trail my arm from behind so softly that it sends warm shivers through every part of me and I realise in a flash of nerves that I am completely at a loss with him. I am always the seducer, the one in control and making the moves. Sex is always down to my own devices or needs and I target what I want and go after it. It's not the case here, far from it. I have no angle to work with by sleeping with him and in fact, I think I'll lose an edge if I do, yet I can't stop myself from wanting it. He has flipped the tables by being the one in control. My seductions failed. He's powerful, dangerous and makes me want to see what it could be like even if he does put the fear of God into me at every turn. His coldness and composure make me want it more than anything and this is completely new to me. A man who didn't fall over themselves to get me naked. ''Take your dress off.'' He leans in, whispering into my ear from beside me and I just erupt in goosebumps, sensitive to everything that's him and unable to hold my calm and confident persona. I lose the ability to talk and just unbutton the front of my Gucci dress until I get it to waist level, sliding it down from my shoulders obediently, like some dumb mute bimbo. Letting it fall to pool around my ankles submissively, before kicking it away. I am left standing in my favourite navy Victoria secret lingerie set in transparent lace and shiver when his breath fans the back of my shoulders and ignites a sense of complete longing. I'm aware of him hovering to the right of me, almost behind me but not enough to make me scared. I have a thing about being approached right from the back and the touch of anxiety peeking around my head could just be that. ''Maybe we shouldn't,'' I whisper softly, getting that niggle of doubt once again; being taken over by his air all over me and completely losing my courage. I am afraid that letting him possess me will change more than the dynamics between us. I can't explain it, it's like I'm standing on a precipice and doing this will be like stepping off a cliff. I have no idea what this feeling is other than complete doubt and apprehension. I put it down to fear from the scene with Gino earlier and give myself a mental shake for my cowardice. ''Losing your courage, London?'' Alexi's deep husky voice gives me tingles. I shiver as hot firm fingers trace my spine from the edge of my knickers, up my naked back to my neck, and close my eyes as the sensations overtake me. No man has ever ignited my body with just a simple touch and now I know for sure how stupid this is …. He influences me, some power I do not understand, and I should take my dress and walk the fuck away, yet I'm glued to the spot and my body won't listen. Mind and emotions completely at war with one another. He unclips my bra and I know I am in the moment of choice right here. Stop it now, end this foolishness, or suck it up and just enjoy whatever sex happens between us. My lady parts make the aching choice for me, practically crying to be remembered. Two years is too long without a real man between my thighs. Stop overthinking this and dissociate this moment with Alexi Carrero and just see him like any other man. I can do this. I want some release for my throbbing body, and he might be a good fuck with a more satisfying orgasm than my ''BOB'' can supply. Although that's a high standard to reach. My indecision falls to the floor in front of me along with my bra that he expertly unhooked, and he shifts beside me and comes further forward, so he's looking at me completely side on. and I take a moment to compose myself and find my backbone. I know sex, I control sex and seduction is my forte, if I let him walk all over me I'll end up tied to his bed and gagged like a whore. I have no intention of letting him think he can treat me like all those little sluts he brings up here, I won't be his submissive. My fear won't allow me to be that whether I want it or not. Over the years my phobia of being used that way has grown and it's unbearable now, so I need to make sure I stay with my head in the game and not lose myself in surrender. I turn to him boldly, surprised to see he's already peeled off his shirt and is unbuttoning his trousers, completely topless and toned with a muscular toned body on show and wasting no time at all. Those tattoos are not as far spread as I expected, curling over both shoulders and one side of his neck, down both arms sporadically and peeking out on his hand. As he leans to push down his trousers, I catch a glimpse over his shoulder and see the majority of his artwork is down his spine and across his shoulder blades, taking up most of the skin on display and its crazily sexy. All black ink and interwoven oriental designs, dragons and skulls. Something gothic yet beautiful in the way they all flow together to make an intricate lacework of patterns. He has a taste for the darker style of tattoos, and I catch a snake interwoven into a skull on his left shoulder as a black widow nestles on top. Morbid beauty. Very Alexi. He has a body to die for, all toned, tight, and sculpted. That sallow Italian skin is tanned just enough to make me weak at the knees but not garish and overdone like a man who frequents a tanning bed, this is all natural. He is, by physical standards, complete perfection and I guess he spends more time in the gym than I give him credit for—either that or he has great DNA and is lucky to have a fast metabolism and effortless physique. Alexi straightens up in only fitted boxers and I have to try not to check out how much he is packing but it's unbelievably hard not to notice. If he's even semi-hard right now then he's carrying way more than most men and I have a moment of doubt that this will be good. There is a fine line between well-endowed and uncomfortably large, something I learned from working the streets for years. I look away and try and just focus on his face and see the smirk already in place. Mr Confidence oozing all over him. He knows he has a decent size in his shorts, smug prick. ''So … no kissing?'' He regards me with a look of complete amusement, and I shake my head. It's almost like he's negotiating our contract once more and we're not standing naked in front of one another, about to change everything. I can tell he thinks the kissing thing is dumb, I mean why wouldn't he? Nothing is personal or intimate for him; he can kiss sluts all day long and feel nothing. To me there's something worse about being kissed than being screwed face to face, eye to eye and I would just rather not go there with him after his kiss in the bar started to affect me in weird ways. I kissed people in my past, sometimes. Usually to seduce and as a tool but it's not something I have done for my own pleasure, or because I wanted to kiss anyone. Alexi however, changed that. His eyes look paler, even in the dull light of the kitchen glow from the counter lights; shadows cast on chiselled perfection and I try to steady my racing heartbeat. He works me into a fever just by looking at him this way and I am so going to hell for this. Sleeping with Satan surely has to be bad for your health. ''Just sex. That goes nowhere else. A meaningless screw for our own pleasure.'' I add hoping he gets that I mean nothing kinky. I won't let him possess me that way and this is unemotional and a means to an end. An itch that needs to be scratched to eradicate tension. That is all it is. ''Sounds fine to me, turn around.'' He commands and without thought I do it, not really contemplating the request then jump when he catches both my wrists from behind me and pulls them back behind me roughly. Instant fear from both him being behind me and what he does. ''What are you doing?'' I yank them free and turn back on him in panic, meeting a smirk of amusement as he drapes his tie over my shoulders casually. All my reverse cylinders are firing full throttle in an instant. ''What do you think? Tying you up, fucking you from behind, over that.'' He nods at the low table and then makes a turning motion with his hand as though it's a reasonable request and I am just being obtuse. I refuse to budge this time, taking his tie from my shoulder and throwing it at the couch instead and plastering a firm look on my face. Everything in me going weak with nerves but I won't let him see it. Also ignoring the fact he doesn't seem to think I need any sort of foreplay or time to work up to being pounded—but that's another issue to the one we have here. ''No!'' I say it sternly with emotion rising in my throat. Both at the thought of being bound and a flicker of a memory I'm trying so hard to squeeze out. I push it down hard and he just tilts his head at me. ''No? You're telling me no?'' He turns me again laughing in disbelief, shaking his head and completely dismissing my refusal. A look of stubborn reigning in. He takes my shoulder firmly, turning me against my will, only this time he runs his hand around my waist and then one on my back and pushes me forward, so I'm knocked to lean over and plant my hands on the coffee table in surprised response. He's manoeuvring me to do what he wants and treating this exactly like he probably treats all sex. No asking or gentle coaxing, no romance or two adults being equally involved; just bend over and let me screw you my way, completely disregarding my refusal in any way. This is why he gives no shits about foreplay. He's a selfish lover that sees women as a means to an end and doesn't care if they even enjoy it. it's all about him. ''Can't half tell you always get your own way.'' I shove him back aggressively, bile rising in my throat from that ache of unease coursing through me now and get myself upright again, moving out of reach of his hand as he goes to catch me, and I hold up a finger. That growing sense of anxiety like a heavy pit inside of me at his insistence to get behind me. I just can't. ''No!'' I snap at him and this time he looks mildly pissed, more than just pig-headed. Surprised, yet pissed, nonetheless. I doubt any woman in his entire life has ever told him 'no' besides his own mother. ''Now what? No tying? No fucking you over the table? Do I need to sit down and write up a list?'' He glares at me and my temper spikes at his complete arrogance and what he thinks he owns of my body. This was a consensual agreement and yet it's all on his terms and his wants, bloody bull brained selfish prick of a man. ''I won't be treated like one of your doormat sluts, you file in here like a fucking conveyor belt. If you want to have sex with me then show me some damn respect. I'm not an object, I'm a woman and I have some say on how I like to be fucked. Stop trying to push me into your shitty bondage crap when I said no.'' I hadn't expected a feminist rant, but he just seems to pull this shit out of me. I don't care if I am standing in only a pair of lace underwear; he is making my blood boil. He laughs sardonically, not looking amused per se, just a tad outraged and probably disbelieving some mere girl refused him. He just shakes his head at me looking insane and wolfish as his temper begins to rise. ''You fucking serious right now?'' That tone is very much a pissed Carrero. I know it well, it's normally in response to me goading him. I don't think I have heard him swear in this context before. I wrack my brains to think if he's ever sworn in temper and just cannot think of an example off the top of my head while getting highly anxious. He sounds angry, so therefore I know he's not demonic about to flip to psycho angry but still, it does put a little fear into me which feeds my annoyance. ''Yes, I am. You said you play by consensual rules and I am giving you my boundaries.'' I stand my ground despite my lip starting to wobble and I bite on it to hide it. I won't back down for the bastard, not when it comes to this. I spent too many years letting others control what happened to my body. ''Fuck this shit.'' Alexi pushes past me moodily, knocking me sideways so I almost tumble over and grabs his shirt from the couch in a swipe of aggression. Reverting to spoiled little man-child and throwing an epic tantrum. He storms to the kitchen and starts slamming around glasses and bottles of booze. Seems he's good at making the rules but does not like listening to anyone else's and I'm surprised he does actually listen. He is being ridiculous over something so minor. My own temper finds root and surges like a bushfire. ''Oh my fucking God! Are you seriously having a temper tantrum because I won't let you just use and abuse my body for your sadistic games?'' I literally feel all ounces of self-control fly at his boorish, abusive arsehole act and throw a scatter cushion at his back impulsively. It's not my crowning glory moment and as soon as I do it I completely regret it. I always did have a bit of a throwing reflex and as much as I try to curb it sometimes, it happens all by itself. It hits him in the back of the head with remarkable aim and he turns like a demon from hell with the speed of light and completely scowls at me with a rage I didn't think his face was capable of. Not one of his normal responses anyway. I guess he is still fragile after his Gino scene. He furrows his brow so deeply he looks insane and then storms towards me with aggression and speed that has me backing up to get away, tripping over my own feet and aiming for the nearest exit as remorse floods me and terror guides me. Shit! Shit! Shit! Now I know what true fear feels like. He's faster than I am and as he gets to me, I literally panic in all-out white horror as he grabs me by the wrist. I impulsively slap him in the face in frightened self-defence, hard enough it makes a horrendous noise and burns my hand half to death with the impact. Paling as the realisation of what I impulsively did, hits me. Camilla? What the actual hell did you just do? It's a fight or flight reaction and as soon as I do it I swear I just want the ground to open up and take me; if I thought he was mad before, then the turn from fire to ice makes my entire body turn cold to fluid in one turn of his head. If evil had a face, then I am looking it in the eye and I literally recoil in complete angst as that sweep of intimidating calm comes over him. I feel instantly sick with the wave of change that happens so obviously. He closes down all hints of emotion and that blank face takes on an eerie smugness. He smirks, rubs his thumb deliberately and slowly over his lip where the bottom of my palm caught him and looks at me in the most wrathful way I have ever seen on any face in my whole life. Cold, sinister and calm. His calculating brain devising a plot to make me suffer. I swear that's what I summarise in that expression. I'm frozen to my spot and hold my breath because I think I just unleashed the insane and I have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide; even if his guards hear my screams, they will ignore them. I know how this world operates and his paid goons are hired to clean up whatever mess he makes while never judging him for it. Alexi catches me around the throat like he did earlier and as I gasp in fright and sheer terror, he slams me back against the wall that I have backed myself up against. Winding me, he's nose to nose and my body is completely limp because I know what's coming and tense for the impact of a beating. I have been here a million and one times before, except the difference is that I know fighting Alexi is futile, and he's got the capability of killing me if I do. I don't doubt he has the skill and lack of moral compass to do so. The man doesn't have a conscience. He brings his forehead to mine and looks me dead in the eye, both of us immobile and silent as so much tension in the air crackles around us. My insides have turned to ash and I know I'm about to endure brutality like I never imagined. I stifle a sob, my body shaking visibly, and yet he just sucks all the air out of me with one swift move. Alexi kisses me. Completely blows my head out of the water as he forces his mouth on mine and I respond, somewhere between relief and primal urge from high adrenaline. Kissing him back, letting myself go with a surge of craziness. My fingers framing his jaw instantly, his arms are around my waist in a second and he's pulling me against him with a hunger that hits us like a typhoon. It's like being dropped in a hot pool of water after being out in the cold, body heat and impulsive reactions are sizzling crazily and we both seem to lose all control. I can't stop him and yet my mouth won't stop pulling at his; surrendering, caressing his tongue and biting his lip as he lifts me from my feet and pushes me back against the wall with the same force. He's not gentle in any way, not that I ever expected he would be. Harshly pushing me and gripping so that I know his attentions will leave my skin bruised, yet it just makes me crave for more. My fingers raking his scalp as I try and curl them into his hair which is barely long enough to get a grip of. I want him so badly I lose all inhibition. His hand cups my breast as he pushes against me and next thing I know I'm on the floor, my body meeting ground abruptly and winding me with the force. He's on top of me, yanking my knickers off roughly, ripping them free and burning my skin cruelly as my nails rake his body, and he pushes my legs open with a knee. He shoves his own underwear down far enough to get free and I arch when I feel him spring against me, teasingly good. He kisses me fiercely, teeth hitting teeth, biting my lip and devouring me like a hungry animal—all over its dying prey and ravenous. He doesn't care about how rough and unsynchronised this is; it's just pure animal. I was right about one thing—he has hot Italian blood, and this is mind-blowingly hot. I feel his erection out with one hand and grasp it tight enough to make it grow harder; rubbing him, clutching at him and suddenly consumed with a need to feel it inside of me. I'm practically begging him to do this and no longer feel anything except an all-consuming burning need to have him in me. Cravings so strong it feels like I'm an addict needing a fix. I may lose my mind if he doesn't give it to me. There's no gentle or slow about it as Alexi grabs my wrists and pins me to the floor roughly, almost slamming my arms against the hard surface as I yelp. He moves to bite and kiss my neck, lifting and arching his body to fit mine and then practically pushes me across the surface with one almighty thrust—with a cruel force he rams himself into me spectacularly. I cry out with a muffled moan as his shoulder covers my mouth and stifles it. There's no work up, foreplay or anything preluding to sex and now I know how he's choosing to punish me for hitting him. Even though it's consensual and I wanted this, there is no pleasure in what he does to me and I'm reminded that Alexi is a bastard of epic proportion and not someone you ever fuck with. I hit him and therefore he made sex his weapon, making a point of hurting me in response. This is his brutal payback. He doesn't hit women, but he finds other more sadistic ways of getting his own back. A few seconds of burning, stinging and discomfort; he grinds into me, filling me, making my body rise and fall with every thrust and despite myself and how much I am screaming inside my own head about how much I hate him—I start to moan out with every thrust and movement as he slows and starts to circle against me more evenly. It's almost as though he's now trying to get me to feel some pleasure. I took my punishment, a stinging quick pain that equals the one I gave him and now he's over it. Alexi is a sadistic wanker. I wasn't ready for him, yet somehow so quickly my body is finding something worthy of enjoying this. I can't move, he is making sure my protests to being restrained are ignored and I'm literally held, arms and legs open and wide for him to take me any way he pleases. I can handle this face on though, my issue is being taken from behind. His aggression is abating, and he seems to be getting into a more relaxed rhythm as the first sharp pain numbs into aching and longing. I bite his mouth when he comes for another kiss, angrily and passionately, and he grins instead, that sadist in him enjoying my fight and I just fight harder. Fuelled with my rage that he would fuck me like this as a punishment for defying him. I want him, but I also want to hate him, and I am not giving in like some wanton wench that easily. I turn my face away from another attempt at a kiss and he swoops in at my ear instead, biting the lobe as I bite on my own lip in ecstasy. Alexi may be a rough and selfish lover, but he has natural skills in firing a woman's body to a fever pitch, and I am not immune. It's all that solid mass of muscle and testosterone. He has ample equipment and there's not much he can do wrong when his natural size hits every good spot inside of me. He can be a lazy lover when he has the right tools that require minimal effort. Wriggling my wrist free until he lets it go, he cups my throat instead as he slows his movements and eases into me purposely, while still holding me captive. Finding his rhythm and a more comfortable position. I grasp at his bicep, but a wave of pleasure shoots through me and I arch against him in the sweep of body weakening goodness—a little shocked. No man has ever got me to cum without a lot of self-pleasuring during the act, so to have him find the spot to hit while forcefully taking me, completely hits me with surprise. Another shooting waving of tingles and low stomach butterflies hit home. I pant as he thrusts deeper inside of me once more; it's the build-up of an orgasm alright and I begin to writhe around, unable to stop myself from moaning out, aching for him to give me my release. For the bastard that he is, sex is mind-blowing with him and it just grates on me that he isn't even trying to make it good. It's a total fluke that my body just works with what he's got. The floor is hard cold wood beneath me and with his weight and cruel body pressing down on me it all adds to the discomfort, yet the pleasure too. I can feel every bone chafing against the hard surface with his weight bearing down on me, but I don't want to change position as my pleasure builds. It's all too good. He lets my other wrist go so he can put his palm on the floor and lifts himself up, so his torso is high above me and releases some of the uncomfortable pain in my back. Thrusting, pushing, screwing me harder and faster while still holding my throat tightly, yet he's no longer hurting me. All I can do is clutch at his arms and hold on for the ride. Closing my eyes and breathing hard through every thrust of intense pleasure. Now I get why women sound like they do when his captive victim, I'm moaning out like a dying animal and making noises I never usually make. I won't forget this in a hurry anyway. Alexi has just ruined me for any other man ever again. He leans back down and captures my mouth for a kiss, getting another bite from me and I dig my nails into his biceps as I do so. Wounding him, making it clear I am so pissed for what he just did to me, and I am not going back on the no kissing thing yet again. All I get is another smile, another smug confident look and more length pushed inside of me, slowly, teasing my body to insane levels of need. He likes to torture in any way he can and it's clear that sex is another tool he has harnessed to use to his own agenda. I am not the first women he's both tortured and pleasured to get his sick sadistic kick. It's written all over him. ''I'm not sorry … if you hit me, I find other ways to hurt you. If you don't want me to fuck you that way then keep your hands to yourself. An eye for an eye.'' He pushes against me some more and I close my eyes, moaning and arching below him as heat and fire spread up my limbs and I grip his shoulders cruelly. Digging nails into him in a bid to tell him to fuck off, while caught in the throes of a building throbbing pleasure. When he pulls back and stops abruptly, I blink my eyes open in protest and see just how satisfied he looks. That evil glint of smug because he knows he has me teetering on the edge of an explosive orgasm, and he's denying me it. ''You're a bastard you know that?'' I blurt out in the respite of his still body, glaring furiously at him for stopping mid-climax. Hating him with a passion. He leans up over me, not moving and still inside of me, then he let's go of me to rest both palms on the floor on either side of my head. I feel completely hemmed in and trapped under the bulk of him with my legs propped up around his hips, but I can't exactly move. He has me pinned down in the most pornographic way, impaled to the floor. Not that I'm complaining. ''I don't care. I've told you once; don't test me as you won't like what I am capable of. You're lucky I am in a good mood.'' He twitches an eyebrow sarcastically and I just shove at his chest and try to push him off. Rage firing out of every pore as I realise he has no intention of letting me cum and this is all about control and cruelty. Getting the upper hand. ''If you're finished then get the fuck off me.'' I snap at him, but Alexi just laughs coldly. ''Baby, you'll know when I am done, just play nice and I might move us from here to something a little comfier. Play nice and I'll be nice. I might let you finish.'' It's that hint of truth which sets me off again, that love- hate thing I have going on for this man and his eternal skill at pissing me off, no matter what we are doing. Internal rage erupting from my volcanic temper. ''What to all fours? Like you wanted me originally? I think I hate you and nice isn't in your vocabulary or your genetic makeup.'' I spit at him and slap him in the chest, stupidly, not caring if he goes back to hard thrusting. I'm so not ready to back down, and maybe he might be the first guy who gets me to an orgasmic climax with a few more aggressive moves if I rile him up again. I can hate him and still get off on his manhood. Alexi just watches me for a moment before pulling out of me and gets up, yanking me with him harshly by my arm and hauling me like I am a weightless nothing. I am somewhere between rage, hatred and 'get back inside of me and finish this, you arsehole'. My body is overheating from his attention and my skin blushed rosy, everywhere. Alexi takes a second to look me over and just grins in that self-assured 'master of his universe' way of his. He practically throws me on the couch. Somehow, I trip and end up face down, my face buried harshly on black leather that starts suffocating me. I pull my hands to lever myself up, instantly trying to rectify my position and try to breathe, but he has my wrists faster than I can pull them and yanks them behind my back cruelly. I have no way of getting up from this bent over position or refuse his advances while held this way. Immediate horror hitting home that despite my refusal, he's going to fuck me this way. I start fighting him, wriggling and making smothered yells and cries into the smooth fabric blinding me. Choking myself as I panic and squirm when he grabs my hip from behind to manoeuvre me into doggy position. Kicking my ankles apart and I almost crumble to my knees with the sudden movement—he has me powerless, my legs shaking and giving out as fear consumes me and I try like crazy to get my wrists from his cruel biting hold. A wave of terror overtakes me and I literally freak out at being face down while he tries to take me from behind. This is one thing that sends me into a psychotic rage and fear, and I will battle to the death before I let anyone do this to me again. That inner mental crazy who occasionally surfaces, lashes out and fights, twists and turns. Strength from God knows where. I push all my weight onto my chest and use my legs to break his hold on me, tears streaming and smearing across the couch as I cry out in desperation. Panic consuming me and turning me into a blubbering emotional mess in a nanosecond. I manage to get loose, enough to flip to my back and pull myself fully onto the sofa, to safety. Using my feet to shove him away as I curl up defensively and I can't help the eruption of words that come out of me. ''NO! NO! NO! GET FUCKING OFF ME. STOP IT! DON'T TOUCH ME!'' I scream at him, lifting hands and legs defensively in readiness to fight, to save myself. A deranged little wildcat who has been backed into a corner and not caring about the spectacle of nakedness I am like this. He just pauses and looks at me as though I have lost my ever-loving mind. ''What the hell are you doing?'' He lifts his hands away, no longer trying to capture me and just looks blank. That typical Carrero response as I break and sob, hating that he reduced me to panic induced tears of fear. He has no idea how afraid he makes me or how doing that to me adds a whole new level of trauma. I have memories and scars that he knows nothing about. I'm breathing heavily and feeling stupid for my overreaction, but I just can't. It's how HE, that bastard boyfriend of my mother's, always used to do this to me … hold me face down, suffocating in the blankets of my bed and hurt me from behind. He made me stand that way and if I buckled while he did it, then he would beat me black and blue and start again. I can't be taken from behind, it just makes me flip out irrationally and all I can see, hear, feel and smell is that fucking room back home and how many times he made me take this, tied, bound and gagged. I was a child. Warm tears slide down my cheeks and I just feel stupid and ashamed that he broke me enough to see this part. That I had a moment of weakness with him of all people and let my past and present collide so openly while playing into his hands and giving him more fuel for that sadistic smug mind of his. I swear since the day I met him he has been pulling apart the carefully laid bricks of my unbreakable wall and ruining the entire persona I built for myself. I don't know how he even does it. I hate him so much! ''What are you doing?'' He asks again more edge to his tone as I stay in my stupidly childish position, holding up my palms and feet as though somehow nakedly I can stop him in this way. I have not a chance in hell of stopping the freight train that is Carrero, trembling like a pathetic feeble kid and sobbing in front of the one person who has complete immunity to tears. ''Someone hurt me this way, repeatedly … Please don't.'' It comes out impulsively, broken and small and I curse myself for giving him this weapon over me. Information is everything to him and he uses your own scars against you effectively. I just feel so raw and fragile and start scrambling to rebuild the selfdefence system I normally hide behind. Alexi just looks completely unemotional and moves back, giving me room as I slowly lower my limbs, but his eyes never leave mine. I wipe my face and grab the grey fur throw from the couch and haul it over myself pathetically; needing a moment to regroup and put this shit back to bed. I feel vulnerable and way too wide open and eye him with zero trust. Embarrassed, humiliated and aware that I just put myself out there in a stupidly vulnerable position. I never fall apart anymore, I never let that stuff resurface and yet somehow the way he was being, the sense of being controlled and hurt, he brings it all back to the surface and has done from day one. I hate the effects he has over me and this was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. ''Who hurt you this way?'' His question takes me completely by surprise and I just blink at him brokenly. It's not a gentle probing question, but one of command and a need to know. Carrero always needs to know, always questions things, and yet never seems to give a truly human response no matter how sad the answer. There is something wrong with him mentally and he is completely broken as a person. ''What?'' I need more time to get my head together. ''Who hurt you?'' He repeats it and sits on the coffee table, uncaring about being completely naked and clearly comfortable in his own skin. He just stares at me, with the same emotionless blank stare and waits for an answer. There's nothing behind those pale eyes except calm, and I was wrong to think someone like him would feel anything for a woman being broken and tearful. It's not a deterrent, and he probably wants to get it out and over and done with, so I will open my legs and let him finish what he was doing. He's calculated enough to know it's the fastest way to resume things. ''You did, on the floor. Leave me alone. I'm going to bed.'' I try and deflect but when I try to get up, he pushes me back down harshly, in no mood for games, and he's in no rush to let me go either. I curse him internally and wipe another flood of tears from my cheeks, my body sagging with emotional fatigue and I have lost all cravings for hot sex now. ''You belong to me … if someone hurt you then I want to know. I'll take care of it.'' Deadpan and completely serious. I blanch at him in stupefaction and then start to laugh manically, disbelievingly, and rather insanely. ''Yeah sure Dahling, go find some fucking bastard who made my life a living hell long before your time. Good luck with that. What makes you are any better than him? You both figure you own me and I'm yours to do whatever you want to. The only difference between you and him is that you don't hit me for your pleasure … yet—but you just inflicted pain on me in other ways so it's not much of a step up.'' I let out a sob and get angry at myself for letting him do this to me, letting him get to me. I get up shakily with my temper in full fury, no longer in control of the hot tears running down my face and Alexi doesn't react, he just stands slowly and meets my small height. The throw is heavy and tugging down as I try to lift it up, but he just yanks it away and throws it down again, so I'm stood exposed, as he is, face to face. ''Are you done?'' It's all he fucking says, and I swear I seriously think about slapping him for a second time. I shake my head at him in disbelief and shove him hard in the chest so he moves back a foot. Hating him with venom and for once it might be nice to have his human side show up when I require its presence. Sometimes, even I long for someone to care. ''Go fuck yourself. You're a cold bastard and I curse the day you stopped me from being thrown in the river.'' I turn to storm off, but he catches my wrist and hauls me back, meeting my slapping hands and just deflects them, pulling me close as he silences me with another kiss. Only this time it's not like the one from before, it's softer, smoother and more like the kiss from the bar. Wrapping his arms around me as he lifts me up into him and runs a hand around my jaw to pull me closer. It's almost tender, hitting my craving need for someone to make me feel better and despite myself and my fury, I weaken to him almost instantly. Like it's a weird power he has, and I can't fight it. Losing myself and letting go of my hurt, I kiss him back. Faced with less aggression and some tiny need in me wanting this somehow. A pathetic craving for little hints of affection, someone to make me feel like I matter. I kiss him and let him caress my tongue with his. I don't fight when he lifts me up around his waist tugging the throw from my legs, where it's still wrapped and laying me back on the couch, so he can get on top of me. Alexi says nothing, just starts trailing my face and neck with nibbles and kisses as I dry my tears and compose myself once more. He seems oblivious to my upset as though the last few minutes never happened and starts working my body into a wild frenzy with a caress of trailing hands and a lot less rough play. It's as different to his first wave of sex as day and night and I arch, finding that pleasure once more, taking comfort in physical touch as he gently teases my nipples with his teeth and feels out my inner warmth with his hand. Fingering me gently until I moan out, before sliding into me slowly this time. It's almost like he's trying to apologise for the harsh handling or being slightly considerate because he upset me, yet I know that's impossible. Alexi is never sorry about anything. He hasn't got it in him to feel remorse, so maybe this is just more manipulation to finish what he started. He's horny and I never let him finish what we started. His hands have lost the urgency and even though he holds me down again, it's with less force or intent and his grip stays loose and gentle so that I can pull my limbs free if I want to. His movements and thrusts are slower and more precise; his whole demeanour has changed subtly but enough that instead of feeling like I am being attacked and screwed by a madman—I feel like this is consensual sex, and he is trying not to hurt me anymore. Alexi brings me to a fever pitch over what feels like an age of ultimate pleasure, until my body arches and convulses and I cry out through an epic mind-blowing orgasm that makes my body shudder intensely for the longest minutes. Clinging to him, pushing myself to that hard torso until he pours himself inside of me too and lets out an exhale before slumping on top of me and completely stills in the darkness. I have no sense of how long he has been having sex with me, but it was enough to lose the last traces of consciousness quickly, and for my body to fall into sated slumber as soon as he rolls off the top of me. He brushes a kiss across my temple, weirdly affectionate, as my eyes flutter closed. I barely feel the fur of the throw warming me as he slides it over, too busy zoning off to the land of nod with a body that finally got two whole years' worth of release from being celibate. Alexi quietly pads across the room to his own and disappears as I let myself fall into slumber, feeling a whole lot of nothing anymore.