Promises and Threats
By the time the car pulled up outside the house, Jane had managed to stop crying. Baron‘s phone started to ring as he handed her out. “I have to take this, but it won‘t take long,” he told her, walking across the entry hall to his office. “Angie,” he answered as he closed the office door behind him.
Jane took the staircase up to her room and removed the beautiful dress, hanging it carefully until she could take it to a dry cleaner, and stepped into the shower to remove her makeup. She brushed her teeth and left the bathroom in her robe, to find Baron already in the bed. He looked, she thought, perfect amongst her pillows, his tanned skin dark against the pale sheets, his hair dishevelled, and his hands folded behind his head causing his biceps to bunch with muscle. He turned his head and rolled to the side as she removed the robe and slid into the sheets beside him.
“I am creating layers of bruising on this arm,” he murmured, leaning over her to touch the arm which wore yellowing bruises from when she had gone on heat and red marks from the party.
“We seem to be getting into some patterns of behaviour, Jane, that I don‘t think are quite healthy for either of us. What do you think?”
What did she think? She stared up at him in bewilderment. “Like a deer in the headlights,” he stroked his fingers down her cheek.
you?” He did not wait for an answer but leaned over and kissed the point of her shoulder, before trailing his mouth up the curve of her neck to below her ear, turning her onto her side so that her back
he was
you, but you know that you are powerless to resist, drives me insane, makes me want to do all
She moaned, arching back into him, feeling the prickle of his stubble against her cheek, the warmth of his skin. “Yes,” he breathed. “Moan for me. I like to hear how much you want me to f–k you. You are so… innocent, so lacking in pretension, when you cry out, I know it‘s for me, because of me.”
“So sweet,” he
not designed to survive in this world. You need me, you need my protection. Mine,
swollen with need, seeping in readiness. He groaned. “Ah, yes,” he held a hand on her lower stomach, his fingers applying pressure to her clitoris as he began to thrust.
forward onto her stomach, so that every thrust of his hips into her ground her against his fingers, and she clawed the sheets, barely coherent beneath him, feeling much
their hold on the sheets near her head, and
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