Chapter 56 Tell Me How You're Going To Ruin Me
Author's Note: Life update/a word of thanks!
Between posting the last chapter just a few days ago and posting the chapter now, we’ve surpassed 900 subscribers and are now past 1000. Unbefuckinglievable!
Thank you guys so much.
I just wanted to let you know how much your kind comments, gifts, and support means to me. I want to preface with neither my confidence as a writer nor how fast I’m churning out these chapters can be contingent on how many gifts and comments this story gets. You are in no way responsible for buttering me up and making me feel good. However, still, you guys come through with so much kindness and support, even though you are in no way obligated to do so.
I simply cannot thank you enough.
You guys, as well as this STUPID STUPID story have helped me rediscover my love for writing and for the first time in a long time, I’m considering a career in writing again. This IN NO WAY rests on your shoulders. At the end of the day, we can only find the motivation and discipline within ourselves, and can’t rely on others to do what we’re supposed to be doing.
But still, I would be lying if I said this rediscovered love wasn’t in such a large part thanks to you guys.
I simply can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy <3
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He is getting out of the car while I just frown at him, confused at what the fuck just happened, and why he is now reaching for my hand and pulling me out of the car as well.
I blink as I stand in the cold air, apparently outside his building, then refocus my gaze on him.
His expression is bland as he buttons his suit jacket, and it is only the creases at the bottom of his jacket, around his hips, that tell me that I didn’t imagine what just happened in the car.
There is nothing I can say as I am pushed into the building, into the elevator, down the hall.
Entering his new security code is a blur, the conversations happening behind my head are muffled, the only noise sounding normal being the front door of the apartment slamming behind me once I am inside.
I freeze on the spot as everything is suddenly silent, David walking past me towards the kitchen and ridding himself of his jacket as he walks, chucking it straight on the floor.
I feel hot. But a different kind of hot than 10 seconds ago.
I feel angry.
When David reappears with two glasses of red wine, he holds one out to me, his expression still providing no explanation to why he just left me unfinished.
“Take it.” He orders, nodding to the glass he is holding out for me.
Swallowing a shaky inhale, and trying to swallow my anger with it, I take it.
He watches me, taking a sip of his glass, and it is only when he takes the glass away from his lips, his tongue swiping to catch a stray drop from the corner of his mouth, that I see the first crack of the facade; his right eyebrow twitching up, as if he wants to raise it, to question something.
My teeth clench together as I realise what it means; this is all a fucking game to him. To see how long it will take me to crack.
On any other day, on any other night, I would have welcomed the challenge. Taken it in my stride, made him second guess how weak I really am.
But tonight, I am absolutely not in the fucking mood to be messed around with.
“Something to say, Doll?” He asks.
My anger flares, and I find myself throwing my wine to the floor, the glass smashing into a thousand pieces, the red liquid splattering over the wall and spilling across the grains in the wood, seeping closer and closer to his shoes.
My reaction to his question doesn’t surprise me once I’ve taken into account how riled up I feel. What does surprise me, is what he does next.
David also throws his glass to the floor, the sound of it breaking in the same spot as mine shattering through the air and making me flinch.
Then David is storming towards me, the glass crunching beneath his shoes, shoving me against the door and crashing his mouth to mine in a punishing kiss.
It mimics the way I attacked him in the car; messy, and desperate, hands gripping my face like I am the last thing on earth, my hands in his hair like I want to rip it out.
Which I kind of do considering how he is acting.
Then he is grabbing my thighs, lifting me up and slamming me back against the door, my head shuddering from the impact, the kiss getting somehow needier.
We are both being loud, breathy, tongues fighting together as we are both trying to take what we need. His hand is then between us, pulling the material of my dress out of the way so that he can push his fingers into me, two at once, sinking into my core with lewd wet noises, gathering his come from the car and fucking it back into me.
I moan into his lips, and he uses the opportunity to break the kiss, pull his fingers out of me and slide them into my mouth.
“Suck.” He commands, only breaking his intense stare once he feels my tongue wrap around them, and moving to my neck to suck a new bruise on my skin.
When his hips roll against mine, and I moan again, he withdraws his fingers, lets me fall down to the floor, and wraps his hand around my wrist instead, turning and dragging me down the hall. My shoes and my dress run over the spilled wine and shards of glass, the crunch and both of our footsteps the only sound in the volatile air.
It appears that David isn’t quite done with me yet, which sends a thrill through my veins. But I have no idea what to expect.
Especially when I realise he is leading me to his bedroom.
Opening his door, he pulls me in, then throws it shut and pushes me up against it again. Wordlessly, he resumes his attacks on my neck, his hands wrapping around my waist and pulling my body close to him as he eagerly feels for the zip of the dress.
“What are you doing, David?” I ask in a breathy and shaky voice after letting him explore for a second.
He just growls into my neck and drags his fingers down my back, round to my hip, then shoves me back into the door. His mouth comes up to mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth without any warning, sucking all the air out of my lungs.
He leaves my question unanswered for a few minutes as he claims my mouth.
It isn’t until one expert roll of his hips, making me whimper beneath him, that he finally releases me from the bruising kiss, pressing his forehead against mine as one hand starts running down to my exposed thigh and pulling it up to his hips.
“I’m planning exactly how I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
My stomach drops at his confession. Then I feel my body start to ignite with lust.
Dragging his mouth back to mine, I feel all the anger disappearing through the connection between our lips, our hands and our bodies pressed together. Pushing forwards, I walk him backwards, towards his bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt until I feel the shudder of the bed hit the back of his legs.
Separating from the kiss, I push on his chest, making him fall back onto the sheets, not missing the way he is looking up at me like I am a meal he is about to devour.
“Come on then,” I challenge, my voice taking a similar tone to the one I used to use at the Red Room. “Tell me how you’re going to ruin me.”
Licking his bottom lip as he lets his eyes wander over me, he leans back on his elbows, making the fabric of his shirt stretch where his buttons are undone, showing more of his chest while I reach my hands behind me to find the zip of the dress.
He watches as I slowly pull it down, the tic tic of the metal teeth coming apart echoing around his room. The material loosens around my chest and my arms, but I don’t take the dress off just yet.
I want assurance that something is actually going to happen. That he isn’t going to just leave me wanting like he did in the car.
I have finally caught onto why he is playing this game.
This intense to and fro, the taking and edging. Leaving me unsatisfied, knowing it will piss me off. He wants chaos, a power fight, to counteract what happened at the Ball where he wasn’t in control one bit.
To a normal person, it wouldn’t have made sense.
But to me, as someone in this world, it is perfectly logical. This is something he can control. Something he can push. I am someone he knows will push back. I am someone that can also dominate. To get everything back into balance. Fighting fire with fire.
Even his choice of bringing me here, to his bedroom, it is part of the game. This environment is safe, familiar, which is what he needs when everything else seems so uncertain.
Of course, it wouldn’t all be so uncertain if I just tell him the truth.
But that isn’t on the cards tonight, so in response to the rising guilt in my stomach, I put my knee on the bed between his legs, my hands either side of his hips, and lean over him, holding myself just far enough away that he can’t quite touch me, but he can feel the breath from my lips when I speak.
“I said, tell me how you’re going to ruin me.” I whisper, and when he raises an eyebrow at me, I smirk. “Sir.”