He thrust. She held on. His body grazed her clit every time he pounded into her.
Pleasure swirled in her womb, climbing, reaching for the euphoria she knew waited at the end. Surrendering, her body seized in an explosion of sensations. She rasped his name as her thighs clamped down on his hips.
Serge grunted, thrusting again and again, moving her across the bed with the force until her head hung over the side, and only when she had no more room, he groaned his release with one last push.
He wrapped his arms around her, rolled her to the middle of the bed, and cradled her to his body. She nestled against his chest, secure and fulfilled. She closed her eyes, thankful for the state of her body. Relaxed and spent, she could no longer dwell on what Serge—she shuddered—spoke to her about earlier.
There was no denying she connected to him on a basic level. Moments ago, he'd known exactly what she needed and had taken her to the end.
After his, she'd half expected him to force himself on her or show her how dominating he could get while having sex. But he'd taken his time.
She'd gone months, years, without a man in her life. She'd perfected the art of bringing herself relief in a few short minutes every night to help herself fall asleep. What Serge brought her was something else entirely different. He filled a hollowness inside of her that she had never known existed until he pointed it out, tempted her, and left her addicted.
"You're a drug," she whispered.
"What?" His eyes flicked from left to right and back again, studying her gaze.
"I could seriously become addicted to you." She bent her elbow and propped her head on her hand. "I can't seem to say no or stop myself around you. Then, when we're having sex, it's like you read my mind and know exactly what I want. It's crazy."
He stared at her until she grew self-conscious and shifted away from him. Had she said something wrong?
"That's a compliment, if you can't tell." She peeked over her shoulder.
Still, he lay there looking at her, not saying a word in reply. She pushed herself off the bed. "Can you point me to the bathroom?"
To avoid panicking, she searched for the panties he had pulled off her earlier and found them at the foot of the bed. Instead of putting them on, she bunched the material in her hand.
Serge clasped his hands behind his head and watched her. She hesitated. He wasn't mad. Usually, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled when his temper flared. No, he simply studied her, which left her confused. It wasn't a good feeling after having fantastic sex minutes ago. She already missed him—the Serge Adams that made her feel complete when they had sex.
She walked across the room, opened a door, and found a large walk-in closet. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but instead, she walked across the room and opened the other door. She slipped inside and shut the door. Needing privacy while she cleaned herself, she locked the door. Then, she leaned against the counter and let herself feel.
Her whole body shook. What was she doing?
Serge remained in the other room, ignoring her after testing her with a story meant to scare her away. And, she'd stayed. Not only had she stayed, but she loved the back and forth they'd gone through. That wasn't something she'd admit to him. It made her feel sick, knowing he could turn her on.
Clearly, her independence vanished completely when Serge was nearby. He likely enjoyed the power he had to manipulate her to his desires.
"Come here,"she mouthed, mimicking him."Look at me."
She pushed away from the counter, found a washcloth in the tall cabinet at the end of the bathroom, and wiped away any evidence of her lack of sanity. After she deemed herself free of Serge, she pulled on her panties, washed her hands, and walked out into the room.
Serge remained on the bed in the same position, with the same look on his face and the same nonjudgmental attitude toward her. She slipped on her shoes.
"Okay, so I'm going to call a cab." She shrugged and gave him a smile that probably appeared more of a grimace than happiness. "Thanks. Again."
When he refused to respond, she pursed her lips. He was right, she had no idea who he was anymore.She wanted a man to pay attention to her, including talking to her after they had sex. Serge was big on talking when he wanted something from her but once he got it, he reverted back to being an asshole.
She was seriously messed up in the head when it came to him, but he was an even bigger mess. She walked toward the door.
"Aubrey," he murmured.
She stopped. Talking to him took all her patience. She would rather yell and throw something at him. The cold, indifferent Serge drove her crazy. Was he showing her how he could be? Was he trying to make a point?
She turned around. "What?"
"You're not going anywhere, but back in bed with me," he said. "I made a promise."
"I don't remember what that promise was." She could play his game, too.
