Sasha
“I will break you, use you, and there will never be another.”
The words were haunting, vicious given the kind of man he was, leaving me incapable of thinking clearly, but I was angry. Incensed. He’d ceremoniously seduced me, and I’d allowed the bullshit to occur.
“God help me.” Saying the words out loud did nothing but provide a serious layer of shivers, as well as chastising the entire event. I was caught up in the glamor, the fact that he’d purchased all my paintings. Even the ride in the expensive car had been out of the norm, glorious in the danger as he exceeded the speed limit, dancing with death.
August. Fuck, what was wrong with me?
Handsome. Rugged. Primal.
Everything about the man was beautiful in the most intense way but the aura around him screamed of the kind of danger where few survived. He was muscular in all the right places, something the expensive linen suit hadn’t been able to hide. Thick, wavy dark hair, long enough to run my fingers through after a round of raucous passion. Sapphire blue eyes and long midnight eyelashes framing a chiseled face. Ruby red lips meant to kiss for long hours in front of a fire.
August… The name slipped off my tongue, creating another wave of heat between my legs. I clenched my pussy, biting back a whimper. The dark and mysterious man had entered my dreams, my very wet dreams, leaving me restless and my body aching.
With desire.
What was I thinking?
“Bastard,” I said more in a strangled mumble than anything. I hadn’t been able to get August out of my mind since he’d brutally attacked me in the hallway of the hotel two nights before. Allowing him to see my gallery had been a ridiculous decision and fucking him? Outrageous. Groaning, I rolled my eyes. The man had been able to consume my mind for two solid days. I visualized the paint covering almost every inch of our naked bodies. The event had been intense, hard fucking and nothing else.
Dark.
Dangerous.
Delicious.
And the other ‘D’ word was demented. I was that person, allowing my guard to fall. He’d seduced me with his velveteen voice and his rugged body. His hands had caressed in a manner that almost brought me to an orgasm the first night. The second had been carnal passion, releasing the inner bad girl. He’d nearly split me in two. I bit my lip, falling over on the bed, yanking the pillow between my legs. The subtle words about discipline couldn’t have turned me on. But they had. A wash of heat rolled up from the base of my neck, guilt and shame filtering into what little rational mind I had left.
Yet I could still feel his giant hands caressing my skin and his fingers touching my pussy. And the kisses. Magic.
Powerful.
Dominant.
“Oh, God.”
My thoughts shifted to the political gala. I should have known then that I hadn’t seen the last of him. I still couldn’t believe he’d actually spanked me in the bathroom, treating me like a misbehaving child. I’d been mortified, angry, and ready to scratch out his eyes.
I’d also been wet, my panties soaked from the ridiculous event. I hadn’t uttered a word of the incident to my girlfriends, although they’d bugged the hell out of me to tell them what had occurred.
“He’s sexy as hell!”
“I could do that man in a heartbeat.”
“If you don’t want him, I do.”
The comments had come fast and furious. They had no idea what kind of man he truly was.
Laughing, I closed my eyes, envisioning him one last time then that was it. We’d had our moment-correction, moments including a wicked and sinful tryst. I could still see flecks of paint in my hair, the hard fucking the most animalistic I could ever imagine.
I could almost care about this man, enjoying hours of his domination. I had to be crazy, nuts to think this way. He was a monster after all. Then why do you crave him?
I was as much to blame for his barbarian-like actions, egging him on with my childish behavior, as he was for calling me on it. He’d simply asked me to share a drink and I’d acted like some child in need of discipline. He’d taken it further with the belt last night; the soreness I would feel for some time to come. Hell, no. No man was ever going to lay a hand on me that way.
Again.
What continued to trouble me was that I’d seen him from somewhere. His familiarity was almost haunting. But from where and why? My father seemed to know him as well, and given the harsh looks he’d slanted August’s way, that meant Daddy dearest couldn’t stand him.
All the more reason to see if I could find the mystery man again.