Chapter 2: Doux Désir

I showed up at his apartment at 3AM two nights after we met at the bar. He didn’t look terribly surprised by my appearance. In fact, he looked amused. I wanted to kiss that fucking smirk right off his face, so I did. I hopped on him and gave him an angry, bruising kiss.

I hadn’t been able to think of anything but the feel of his cock against my stomach, the heat of his skin, his dark green eyes undressing me, the feel of his hands on my body, and I was fucking tired of it. I hated him and myself so much.

But I figured I was probably going to hell anyway, and I might as well make it fucking worth it.

We pushed into his apartment. He swung the door shut with his leg and flung me onto his big sofa.

“Well, well,” he started to taunt, but I smacked my palm against his mouth.

“If you want inside you’ll shut your mouth and just fuck me.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice. He dragged me off to his bedroom. I wasn’t shocked by his black silk sheets; he seemed the type. He ripped off my shirt and tore my bra down.

The rest was outrageously wonderful, as I’ve already mentioned.

Once we were done, and after he made his solemn promise (or threat?) of us meeting again, he looked over at me. “I’d have you suck my cock,” he murmured lazily, “but I’d probably come too fast—the idea of you bobbing up and down on my cock makes me shake—and then I wouldn’t be able to fuck you again.”

I gulped.

“It’s a shame,” he said casually, leaning over my body and staring hard into my eyes. “I should really take advantage, with this being our last time and all.”

I hated how he said that. It was sarcastic and just so Patrick. I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so interested in fucking me, and I didn’t want to start pondering the possibilities because I was afraid none of them could be good. Who was this stranger hovering over me with a grin too beautiful to be fair and a cock too perfect to match?

“I’m going to fuck you again now,” he said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “You’re going to scream my name again and again. And don’t give me bullshit about the one-time thing. This still counts as once.” He looked at me sternly. “And you’re going to come again. Don’t be shocked if my neighbors call the police. You are so loud.”

I opened my mouth to say something but he ran his hand down my jaw.

Then he nudged forcibly into me, making both of us gasp and curse. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

And then he was moving and words were an impossibility. It was slower than before, shocking me. He kept intense eye contact and kissed me with something unidentifiable and strangely personal. I looked away after a while, unable to handle his burning gaze. I tried not to give it too much thought; in fact I really couldn’t because of the force of his thrusts and the incredible shocks going through my pussy.

I stared at him and wondered how I could let this be the last time. No one had ever claimed me like this. It was as if I was ruined for all other men, as dramatic and clichéd as it sounded. I had a sneaking suspicion it was true, too.

I hated Patrick Thorne from the moment we met, but I probably loved him more.

As it turns out, I didn’t go running right back to him. The guilt I’d shoved back for my temporary pleasure hit me full blast when I got home. I sobbed in the shower for ages. The worst part was I didn’t regret it. It was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life, and I just hated that it was so messed up.

I ignored Patrick’s calls for the day and spent the night at my friend Sophie’s, just in case he showed up. I doubted he would—he couldn’t be that desperate for pussy—but I was too cowardly to chance it.

My mood didn’t improve the next day either when I received a hysterical call from Chloe. She’d been on a disastrous date the night before, she didn’t think she’d ever recover from the divorce and she still loved Patrick.

“Why couldn’t he love me, Nina? Why? What did I do wrong?”

I cried in the tub that night for a change of pace. Getting pruny seemed like an extra penance.

Luckily I didn’t hear from Patrick again, and though it gave me an uncomfortable pang in my stomach, I ignored it and focused on other things.

Things changed a week later, however, when I was at work.

“Nina Harmon,” I answered my phone distractedly.

I was desperately seeking an important file my impatient boss had asked for twenty minutes before. The guy disliked me because I snapped at him for ogling my tits. Now he found pleasure in giving me a hard time over even the most mundane duties. He probably didn’t even need the file, I grumbled to myself, nearly spilling my coffee all over my paperwork.

“Well, hello, Ms. Harmon,” a voice all too familiar greeted.

I repressed the girly butterflies threatening to flutter up from my stomach to my chest and groaned. “What is it, Patrick?”

I tried to throw in a little extra bitterness into my tone so he wouldn’t know how thrilled I actually was he called me.

“Now, now,” he laughed, “is that how you greet all your lovers?”

I sighed and thanked God my boss was distracted by yelling at some other misguided employee so he wouldn’t notice me on the phone.

“I guess I’ll have to rephrase: what the fuck do you want, Patrick?”

He laughed again, the sound immediately traveling to my pussy and lingering there like it was on some fucking tropical vacation.

Even though we hadn’t spoken in a week, I kept feeling like it was only a matter of time before we’d have to face one another again and talk about what happened. It seemed like the healthy, mature thing to do.

It had absolutely nothing to do with me wanting to see Patrick again.

Not in the least.

“Well, since it appears you’re going to refrain from being polite, I’ll just cut to the chase: have dinner with me tonight, Lover.”

He said “lover” dramatically, like he was telling some joke. I wished I could punch him over the phone.

I snorted loudly and then played it off as a cough when a few curious coworkers glanced my way. “You want me to have dinner with you? No, I’m not having dinner. Coffee. I’ll do coffee. We need to talk. That’s it.”

“We’re not finished,” he said again, “and you know it. Dinner. At 7. I’ll pick you up at your shit-hole apartment.”

“Patrick—”

“Bye, Lover.”

“Stop calling me that, you prick! I’m going to—”

“Nina.” My boss’s cool voice interrupted my threat. My cheeks reddened and I heard hysterical laughter on the other end of the phone before an abandoning click.

Slowly I put my phone down and tried to smile at him. “I’m sorry, sir. I was on the phone with a friend and he—”

My boss waved a dismissive hand. “The file?”

“Um. Right here, Sir.”

He took it without thanks. Before strolling off to his gargantuan office, he paused in front of a bunch of my coworkers to give me a look that basically told me he’d be riding my ass even harder than usual now. “And Nina? Please refrain from using company time to make personal phone calls. I was almost certain that was referenced on the last office memo. Also, please take care with your language here. This is a professional environment, not a bar.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, but he’d already vanished.

I should have felt worse about looking like a fool in front of the boss and coworkers I so desperately wanted to impress (or at least I used to want to impress them), but all I could focus on was the dampness in my panties and the sudden urge to fill my pussy with the only part of Patrick I actually liked.

And then, like last time, my sister’s trusting, innocent and loyal face flashed before my eyes and I glanced at the photo of us hugging on my desk. I thought of her phone call, how terribly Patrick had wrecked her. Would I suffer the same fate?

I hoped not, but I’d probably deserve it.

I wasn’t a good person. I knew that already. I had made a lot of mistakes in my life, some I probably would never be able to make right. So in spite of my protesting, traitorous, weeping vagina, I opened up my e-mail.

Patrick

I’d use some serious profanity here but you’re lucky my company has a filter. I also don’t want to threaten you, because I know you and you’d end up using it your advantage and I believe I’ve given you enough ammunition.