Chapter 25

The evening bleeds into the dark night and before I know it, I’ve worked up a sweat tidying up the secret room. Silas has long since trotted back to the main rooms, no doubt exploring the other nooks and crannies in the mansion. Or maybe he’s terrorizing his master.

I snicker, remembering Maxwell’s glower last week when he found Silas with one of his black leather dress shoes in his mouth. I’m sure that was a thousand dollars down the drain.

Standing up, I rub my aching shoulders and wipe away the sweat on my forehead. The room is coming together nicely. I’ve given it a name of my own, Belle’s Elysium, from the Greek word, Elysion ; a paradise after life on earth. This place will be my paradise while I’m in this arrangement with Maxwell.

I wonder what the story is about this hidden room and if there are other secret passageways in the mansion. Glancing at the antique grandfather clock by the open window, I noticed it’s approaching eight p.m. I’m going to find Maxwell and talk to him. I’ll extend an olive branch and see if he’s had dinner yet. This arrangement where we’re avoiding each other and him randomly blowing up at me isn’t working.

Eyes on the prize, Belle. A baby and my Silas. He’s hidden inside the frigid asshole.

Mind made up, I turn off the lights and make my way to Maxwell’s room.

Knock. Knock.

No answer. I try again, but the same result. Maybe he’s not there ?

But to be safe, I creak open the door to check and I hear faint noises coming from somewhere inside the room. Blowing out a deep breath, I step inside and marvel at the masculine space lit up by a sleek lamp on the nightstand.

Dark wood paneling with wainscoting leads to an arched ceiling. There’s a king-sized bed with a navy tufted headboard and gray comforter facing a black marble fireplace. A lounge area by the bay windows is set up with a modern table and gray wingback chairs.

The fragrances of sandalwood and amber permeate the air—his scent, and I draw in a deep inhale, a heady warmth spreading inside me. My body comes alive with awareness of the only man who has ever enthralled me. The unattainable man.

Light seeps in from a cracked open door and I hear the sounds of water and someone mumbling.

Holding my breath, I tiptoe to the doorway and my heart stutters and stops.

Steam fogs up the bathroom and I see his backside, all rippling muscles and restrained power, underneath a large shower. The hot water pelts his hair and body, but he doesn’t appear to mind. His head is dipped down, one hand pressed against the dark marble wall. His other arm is moving quickly in angry motions, the steam from the shower preventing me from seeing what he’s doing, but I have a pretty good idea.

I release a thready exhale and swallow, my skin feeling warm to the touch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, his voice angry as his arm moves faster.

“Damn it,” he grunts and lets out a tortured groan.

I should look away, but I can’t. Every atom in my body is attuned to the sex god in front of me.

Maxwell turns around, dragging his free hand over his wet hair before slamming it against the glass door, the sudden movement drenching the door in a deluge of water, un-fogging it temporarily .

His eyes are closed, a vein pulsing on his forehead, his jaw locked as he works his hand up and down, up and down, his biceps flexing. I drag my gaze down his body, past all his glorious muscles and beautiful scars, to the glorious weapon between his thighs.

He’s thick and long, much bigger than the two guys I’ve been with in the past. The tip of his cock is deep red as it disappears and reappears in his fist. It looks angry, furious, just like its master.

Liquid pools between my legs and my sticky clothes feel abrasive against my skin. I clench my pussy and press my thighs together, but it does nothing to stem the pulsing need inside me.

“Fuck, Belle! What are you doing to me?” Maxwell roars.

He’s thinking about me and I shiver. I have been here all along—why have you stayed away?

He fucks his fist harder and I’m burning for him, wanting him to touch me. To ease his pain inside me.

A whimper slips out of my lips.

His eyes snap open and meet mine—the gaze of a villain—and those gray eyes turn impossibly darker and more intense.

He doesn’t slow his movements but instead trails his gaze over my body, his nostrils flaring, and I look down, realizing I have a hand curled over my breast.

Maxwell steps closer to the shower door, his large hand dragging up and down his beautiful thick cock in agonizing slow motions, his mouth parting as he releases one raspy breath after another.

I’m so wet and achy and the intensity in his gaze only fans the flames inside me. My feet move, an invisible tug pulling me toward this man who has driven me insane ever since I’ve met him.

He pauses as he stares at me, his hand curling around his dick in a death grip and his entire body stills, as if he’s making a decision.

The steam fogs the space between us as I walk toward him, my mind mad with need—the need to touch him, to trail my fingers up and down his powerful body, to feel him inside me, filling me up, owning me completely .

Suddenly, his body bursts with movement.

He pushes open the shower door and hauls me inside, and the hot water immediately drenches my body and clothes.

He looks at me in awe, his eyes dipping to my lips, his heavy breathing fanning my face. But the split-second reverence is quickly masked as his asshole persona slips into place.

Spinning me around, he presses my face against the cool glass, his arm curled tightly around my waist. His body cages me in as his teeth nip my ear.

“You’re going to give me an heir, aren’t you?” he growls, his words sending a tremor down my body.

I let out a moan. Yes. I want this. I want you. I want everything.

He presses his thick cock against my backside and I feel him thrusting slowly through my sodden dress, gyrating against my ass cheeks.

Wetness seeps through my panties. I’m on fire for him.

“You’re going to let me stuff you with my cock and fill you with cum, aren’t you?”

“M-Maxwell, yes.” I whimper. The image of him pulsing inside me, filling me up, has me thrashing against him. I rub against his hardness, needing him to touch me, manhandle me, to ease the torture building inside me.

He growls, his hand tugging up my dress before he rips off my underwear and tosses it to the floor.

I gasp from the burn between my legs, which only heightens the climbing pleasure. I need more.

“I’m going to fuck you and breed you. But make no mistake, this is not love.” His voice is heated and rough, like he’s desperate for me.

Without another word, he thrusts inside me.

I cry out at the sudden intrusion, his thick cock invading my body in a delicious burn. He groans as he slides one hand between my legs and rubs circles on my clit. Pleasure lights up my pussy and I shake against him .

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts as he hammers inside me, his body pressing me harder against the shower door.

His dick swells and becomes impossibly bigger, his fingers working expertly on my clit as sparks gather in a deep place inside me.

I lean back, running my hands over any part of him I can reach, trying to touch him, to have more connection than just his naked body pressed against my clothed one, his cock spearing me in half.

“Hands on the door. Don’t touch me.”

I follow his instructions, my body bowing to his dominance. My gut clenches at his rejection, but the ache is soon swallowed by a tsunami of pleasure building between my legs.

“You came looking for this, didn’t you?” he grunts. “Me to fuck you, get your belly full with my baby, mark you from the inside?”

My mind blanks at his possessive and dirty words.

“My wife is a slut for me,” he rasps. “Elegant on the outside, but you needed a thick cock stuffing you full of cum all along, didn’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Maxwell.” I whimper, a heat sparking from deep inside my womb and I’m almost blind from pleasure, from all his degrading words which somehow sound like poetry to my ears.

His thrusts quicken, the sounds of skin slapping against skin mixing with the pattering of the water crashing against our bodies.

The sparks in my pussy coalesce into an inferno and my legs tremble and I part my lips in a cry.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes!” he roars, his cock thickening before throbbing, releasing warm spurts of cum inside me.

He pinches my clit and the sharp pain along with the hot cum trigger my orgasm. I tumble into nirvana, my legs quaking, body trembling, and he prolongs the high by gyrating his hips in gentle thrusts, his cock still deep and pulsing inside me.

Our panting breaths are loud in the shower as the pleasure gradually ebbs and we slowly come down from our high.

Without another word, he withdraws from me and stalks out of the shower .

I hear his ragged breaths as he wraps a towel around his waist, his fingers fumbling, a few curse words erupting from his mouth.

He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look at me. His back muscles are taut with tension.

“I’ll see you in the dining room for dinner,” he rasps.

Then he leaves the bathroom.

The world slowly spins around me as I stand under the hot spray, still wearing my wet dress and reeling from the best sex I’ve ever had—the cathartic release, the intensity like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

Then I feel his cum streaming down my thighs and reality finally catches up to me.

What just happened?

How was it both the coldest and hottest experience I’ve ever had?

A burning sensation appears behind my eyes as a sobering ache blooms in my chest. I blink away my impending tears and remind myself this isn’t about love. This is about getting what we both want out of this arrangement.

I want to get pregnant. Focus on that, Belle.

But my heart is splintering in half, the blood pouring out of the deep wound.

He didn’t even kiss me.