Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(53)

“Now!” he shouted. He let out a loud savage sound from deep inside him and arched his head. We climaxed together. His cock exploded while my core lit up like a disco with strobing bright colors. The song “Gloria” played in my head. Oh, oh, oh, calling Gloria.#p#分页标题#e#

“Oh, Gloria. That was fucking amazing.”

Yes, it was. It was fucking amazing.

Catching his breath, he sunk his head into the thick fold of my cleavage. I wrapped one arm around his sweat-soaked body and threaded the fingers of the other through his damp, tousled locks. Closing my eyes, I hummed the melody of “Gloria.” All the voices in my head were calling his name.



Repositioned on my back, my head resting on his rock-hard chest, I asked him something that had been on my mind. “Mr. Zander, are you into the whole BDSM lifestyle?”

He chuckled. “No, In fact, I’m not really a dom.”

My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” His controlling behavior mirrored that of many of the erotic book boyfriends I had.

“My shrink says I’m a just a creative control freak with kinky tendencies.”

Semantics.

“Do you get off on physically hurting women?” My heartbeat accelerated going into this dangerous territory. Given that his mother had destroyed his beloved father, the psychologist in me thought it was likely though he’d never physically harmed me.

“Whatever way you call it, I’m strictly BD without the SM.” He planted a tender kiss on my cheek. “Besides, angel, you’re like the lace you wear. Beautiful and fragile, easily torn. I could never hurt you.”

Inwardly, I heaved a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure I could put up with the inflicted pain I’d read about in those BDSM novels. I’d already had enough emotional and physical pain in my life. The lace analogy struck a deep chord inside me.

He played with my braid. “So I assume after that mind-blowing fuck it’s okay for me to sleep with you.” A statement not a question.

“Don’t assume anything.” Mr. Presumptuous! I had to show him that I had some power. That he couldn’t always fuck me into submission.

We had a stare-off. His intense denim blues and cocky half smile were wearing me down. God, he was sexy and beautiful! My core was buzzing. I wanted him all over me again. Finally, before I caved in, I said, “If you don’t leave this bed, I will.”

“You’re a tough client.” With a roll of his eyes, he climbed out of the bed and nestled into the other one to my left. He turned off the overhead light between us.

“Sweet dreams, Ms. Long.”

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Zander,” I mimicked before drifting off.



I’m running through a black tunnel. I can see nothing in front of me, nothing behind me. My legs propel me as fast as they can; my lungs burn. My heavy breaths and footsteps pierce the darkness. I can’t let him find me. I can’t! Suddenly, footsteps thunder behind me. I steal a glance backward; I see nothing, but the footsteps are getting louder and faster; they’re gaining on me. I try to run faster, but my legs won’t let me.

“Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky!” The accented voice booms behind me. “You will pay!”

“No!” I scream silently. I must escape. Oh God, where is the light? Where is the end? Will I always be on the run?

A deafening blast echoes in the endless chamber of darkness. And then another. A bolt of white light scorches through my body. Red-hot liquid streams down my flesh. I keep running. I must keep running! I can never stop running! Oh the pain!

Screaming, I bolted to an upright position. The hot liquid in my dream was now a rush of cold sweat, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my quaking body. Two strong arms wrapped around my drenched torso and pulled me against a slab of rippled, warm flesh.

“Gloria, what is it? Are you okay?” Jaime’s deep, velvety voice filtered into my ear. I let myself sink into him, shuddering against his manly, hard chest. His warmth blanketed me.

I took several deep, calming breaths just like my shrink instructed me to do after one of these the mind-shattering dreams. Words, however, stayed trapped in my throat.

Still holding me, Jaime smoothed my damp, matted hair.

“It’s okay, angel. I’m here. Why are you shaking?”

I moistened my parched palate with my tongue and found my voice. “It was just a bad dream.” My forever nightmare.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” His voice was soft and full of compassion.

“I can’t.” At least right then, I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to confide in this man—to tell him my secret. Though he had shared his scars, mine was still my cross alone to bear-with the exceptions of Kevin, who had lived it, and Madame Paulette, who had taken it to her grave.