Authors: Elizabeth Nelson
Graham seemed to know exactly when her body had reached that point. “You are never to see him again, you hear me.” Slap. “Never.” Slap!
“I won’t, Graham! I won’t!” she sobbed. “Please, Graham! Please!”
“What are you begging me for?” he rasped.
The brush smashed into her ass, once, twice, three times.
“Do you even know what you want?” He was breathless from his exertions but the anger was still there in his voice, in the rigid shape of his thighs under her. His cock was hard against her thigh but he didn’t seem to care about that.
“Yes! Please, just stop.”
“Do you want me to stop, or do you want this?”
Something blunt probed at the entrance to her pussy, moved in the copious wetness before plunging inside her. She cried out, clenched her fingers in the thick cushions of the couch as the hard thing inside her moved even more deeply into her, sliding in and out of her dripping pussy. The brush. He was fucking her with the brush.
Savannah gasped in pleasure, unable to fight what he was doing to her. He fucked her deeply with the brush in quick and brutal movements and she grunted and gasped to the rhythm of his thrusts, the fierce motion of the hairbrush inside her pussy. The flesh of her bottom burned with pain from the beating. The pain blended with the hard thrust of the brush inside her until she was burning up with pleasure, her entire body alight and flailing in the grip of sexual delirium.
“Oh god!” She arched up her butt to take more of the brush moving in her pussy, to take more of what Graham poured savagely into her body.
“You’re a little slut for pain, aren’t you?” he grunted as he fucked her with the brush.
“Aren’t you?”
She screamed into the couch as the orgasm took her over, shoving her off the precipice, out of her mind. “Graham!”
Her body squeezed and tightened around the brush, even more wetness gushing from her. Graham pulled the brush from her pussy. It clattered to the floor as he discarded it, lifted her from on top of him, dropped her into the body of the couch with her ass still in the air. He unzipped himself and buried his cock inside her pussy with a moan of relief.
He grunted. Savannah’s hands tightened in the fabric of the couch as he slid deeply inside her, so deeply. His hands gripped her hair and pulled her head back until her neck was bowed. Pain arrowed through her scalp as he pulled her hair even more. Then he was fucking her wildly, fucking her hard, soon he was coming with animalistic sounds, grunts and growls, his hot spunk splashing against her inner walls.
Breathless still, he kept the weight of his body on hers, trapping her into the sofa. For a moment, she felt a panic that she couldn’t breathe, that she couldn’t escape the brute strength of him. Her mind scrambled for a moment, mere seconds before her body started to fight against his hold. But she forced herself to be still. Graham would not hurt her. He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t.
As if sensing her inner panic, he pressed down on her even more forcefully, her face and nose digging into the couch. She turned her head quickly to the side so she could breathe. Graham’s hand appeared on the back of her neck, twisting her face back so her nose was buried into the couch cushions again.
“You belong to me,” he said. “If I want you to suffocate in this chair, that is what you will do.” His voice was cold, without a single hint that he was joking.
Panic held her rigid in his grip as the air slowly disappeared. The cushion pushed against her nose until she could barely breathe. Her limbs were stiff. Her breath came quickly, panting, on the edge of fear. She stiffened under him, a moment away from fighting him. Then he drew his hands away. Climbed off her, zipped up his pants and walked away. His footsteps sounded against the tile floors then slowly faded away as he left the room. Savannah blinked wildly then sat up in the chair. Her heart was galloping in her chest.
The door of the library still gaped open. At any moment, someone else could walk by and see her like this. Quickly, she pulled on her underwear, pulled down her skirt. For a moment, she was frozen in the center of the room, unable to think of what to do, where to go. Then she saw the wooden brush he had used on her. It looked so innocent, lying there on the expensive burgundy and black rug. She picked up the brush, held it in her hand, felt the stickiness still coating the long handle. Remembered the last moments with his hand and body holding her down in the couch. She trembled.
Then Savannah stiffened her chin, wiped her face, and went upstairs to the guest room where she’d already moved out most of her things. She lay on the bed, still wearing all her clothes and curled up in the center of the huge bed with the brush cradled in her arms. Then she fell into a deep sleep.
“That dress looks gorgeous on you!” Elise touched the hem of the calf-length, A-line wedding dress Savannah wore and grinned. “It’s perfect for a non-traditional but classic look.”
In the mirror, the woman in the white dress was gorgeous, self-contained, like a darker and more voluptuous Audrey Hepburn in the 1950’s style wedding gown. There was no sign of the worry that had plagued Savannah since that evening in the library with Graham.
After that awful experience, she’d been reluctant to face him again, staying in her old bedroom until deep into the night when he’d come in to claim her, taking her to their bed where he’d made a gentle love to her before allowing her to fall asleep. Even with the gentleness of his tongue and hands on her body, Savannah couldn’t forget his cold anger and the way it had ruled him in the library. And the fear it had made her feel.
She forced a smile to her face and smoothed a hand down the front of the dress. With its lace bodice and cap sleeves, it held the perfect touch of both sensuality and sweetness that Savannah had been on the hunt for all afternoon. She and Elise had been to three dress shops already and this was the first one to have dresses that they could both agree on. Savannah twirled in front of the mirror. The dress billowed up around her legs, showing off her slender and toned calves. If nothing else, she’d have a beautiful wedding dress.
“That is perfect!” A tall woman in unrelieved black stepped through the door of the large dressing room. Ms. Deale. The owner of the shop.
“It is, isn’t it?” Elise clapped her hands. “I think we’ll take it,” she looked at Savannah.
“
Yes?”
Savannah smiled. “Yes. Along with these shoes and the lace gloves I had on earlier.”
The woman nodded, allowing a pleased smile to show on her face. “Of course, Miss.”
“Soon to be Mrs.!” Elise grinned, all happiness as if she was the one getting married.
The woman smiled at her indulgently then left them in the room.
“This wedding is going to be so fantastic. With all his money, Graham can afford to make this a huge event. An announcement in the papers. Hiring out the Ritz ballroom for the reception. A fantasy honeymoon on the high seas. Girl, you are so lucky!”
Even with all of Elise’s happiness for her, Savannah thought she detected just the slightest bit of jealousy from her friend. After all, Graham had more money than Elise’s husband. He also had a bigger house and was a more prominent figure in Miami. But Savannah was beginning to realize that these things weren’t as important as she first thought. Yes, she loved living in Graham’s mansion. She loved having twenty-four hour maid service, and a chauffeur at her disposal, a fiancé who could buy her pretty much anything she wanted. But the slow fear that had been creeping up on her since Michael’s visit and Graham’s attack made these things immaterial. She’d rather have security and peace of mind.
As she was taking off her dress, Ms. Deale walked back into the room.
“Pardon me, ladies. But there’s a gentleman here to see you, Miss.” She looked at Savannah. “I believe it’s your fiancé.”
Savannah felt a clutch of fear at her throat. Then swallowed past it. There was no reason for her to be afraid of him. At least not here.
“Tell him I’ll be right there,” Savannah said.
She quickly finished changing and put on her own clothes, a burgundy t-shirt dress, black high heels and a thin black scarf. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Elise and ducked out of the room. In the main reception area of the dress shop, Ms. Deale stood behind the counter with the phone to her ear. When she saw Savannah, she covered the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.
“He’s waiting in dressing room number six for you,” she said quietly and pointed down a long hallway.
Savannah thanked her and followed the hallway until she saw room number six. With her heart pounding heavily in her throat, she rapped lightly on the door, waited until she heard a deep voiced “come in,” before walking into the dressing room. She stepped into the room and stumbled in surprise.
Michael McGregor stood in the center of the room, not Graham. And instead of the usual work boots, jeans and t-shirt, he wore loafers, black slacks, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Savannah vaguely registered that his arms were thick with muscle and sprinkled with black hairs. He looked very masculine, very powerful.
“Michael! What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you and make sure you’re doing all right,” he said. He didn’t cross the room to touch her, but something about the way he stood, made her think he wanted to.
“Of course, I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”
A strange look passed over his face. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and moved slowly toward her, his gaze never leaving her face. “I heard he beat you. For seeing me.”
Savannah’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “How did you know that?”
He winced. “I had hoped that my sources were wrong and that it was just...normal stuff between the two of you.”
Savannah remembered the sound of footsteps near the entrance to the library when Graham had had her under the paddle on the sofa, the yawning gap of the doorway while he had fucked and humiliated her, cutting off her air until she was frightened of him. Someone saw that. And reported it all back to Michael. Her face burned with embarrassment.
“Oh my God!” She turned away from him.
Tears pricked at her eyes. She pressed her hands to her mouth and a low sob escaped her.
“What did they tell you?” she asked when she could finally speak again, although she did not turn around to face him.
“They told me that he hurt you. With a brush. Was that something you wanted?”
What she wanted to do was sink into the floor in abject embarrassment. Not only had strangers seen her that way, but they’d told Michael. Probably in explicit, disgusting detail. Savannah bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood.
“I didn’t want it, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t scared until later when he...when he said he could kill me if he wanted.”
A harsh breath came from Michael. “Shit.” Cloth rustled as he came closer. She felt his presence just behind her, the warmth of his breath against her neck. But he did not touch her. “I wanted to tell you this before, but I convinced myself it wasn’t necessary. I thought he’d be different with you.” Michael paused, breathing harshly in the small room. “Graham Victor is a dangerous man. He’s hurt women before. Be careful of him.”
Savannah whirled to face him, her heart pounding in her chest. “How come you’re just telling me this?”
“By the time I knew you were seeing him, you had already moved into his house. Things had gone too far.”
“As opposed to now!” Savannah could feel hysteria rising in her chest, a panic like she had felt when Graham pressed her face into the sofa cushions. Oh my God. Oh my God! What had she gotten herself into?
A knock on the door of the dressing room jerked Savannah from her panicked thoughts. She forced her breathing to calm, smoothed down the front of her dress, and looked briefly at Michael. He was back on the other side of the room, sitting on a frilly white chair that seemed ridiculous under his bulk. She licked her lips nervously.