Chapter 7: The Fiancée’s Shadow

The drywall was thin. On the other side, Clarisse was droning on about lilies and white roses. 

Her voice was sharp, entitled, and bored. She was just inches away, separated by a layer of paint and plaster.

Xavier didn't care. He had me pinned against that same wall. 

The surface was cold and rough against my bare front. 

He was behind me, his body a wall of heat that made the sweat on my neck feel like ice.

"Xavier? Are you listening?" Clarisse’s voice muffled through the wall. 

"I told the florist the white ones looked cheap. I want the imported cream. Do you hear me?"

Xavier fisted my hair, pulling my head back until I was looking at the ceiling. His other hand was between my legs, fingers digging into my slick heat.

"I hear you, Clarisse," Xavier called out. His voice was perfectly calm. "I’m just busy with some paperwork."

He leaned down, his mouth right against my ear. 

"You hear her, Maeve? She’s picking out flowers for a wedding that’s never going to happen. Because you’re here. Getting ruined against the wall she’s leaning on."

"Xavier, stop," I whispered, my breath hitching. "She’ll hear."

"Let her hear," he rasped. He reached down and yanked my hips back.

He didn't use any warning. I felt the penetration of his hard cock.

The stretch was immediate and brutal. 

I felt every inch of his thick cock sliding into my tight pussy, forcing me to expand until I thought I’d tear. 

A sharp cry started in my throat, but he slammed his palm over my mouth, fisting my hair even tighter to keep me still.

"Don't you dare make a sound," he hissed. He started to pound.

It was heavy and relentless. With every ram of his hips, my body hit the wall. 

The drywall vibrated. On the other side, the sound of Clarisse’s voice cut off for a second.

"What was that noise?" She asked.

Xavier didn't stop. He slowed down, his thrusts becoming deep, grinding, and agonizingly slow. 

He was burying himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against my wet skin with a sound that seemed loud enough to wake the dead.

"Just moving a desk, Clarisse," Xavier yelled back. He ground his pelvis into mine, his cock hitting my sweet spot over and over.

"You’re so wet for me," he whispered in my ear. "You’re dripping down my balls while your boss’s fiancée talks about flower petals. You’re a filthy little traitor, aren't you?"

"Mmpph!" I struggled against his hand. My body was betraying me. My pussy was clamping down on him, milking him with every thrust. 

I was leaking, my thighs slick with my own want. 

I hated him, but I was arching into the friction, begging for more.

He pulled his hand back just enough for me to breathe.

"Tell her you're okay, Maeve," he commanded. "Tell her while I’m balls-deep in you."

"I... I can't," I gasped.

He rammed into me, a hard, fast shove that made the wall creak.

"Tell her. Or I’ll open the door and show her exactly what I’m doing to her 'assistant.'"

I bit my hand, my teeth sinking into my own skin to keep from screaming.

"Everything... everything is fine, Miss Vane," I called out. My voice was ragged, broken by the thud of his body against mine.

"You sound out of breath, Maeve," Clarisse said. She sounded closer now. 

I could almost hear her footsteps on the hardwood. "Is the work that hard?"

Xavier let out a low, dark chuckle. He pulled out almost all the way, the tip of his dick teasing my clit, before shoving back in with a force that made my vision go white.

"She’s a hard worker, Clarisse," Xavier said. He was sweating now, his chest heaving against my back. "She does exactly what I tell her to do."

He turned me around. He hauled me up until my feet were off the ground, my back hitting the wall again. 

The cold plaster bit into my skin. He aligned his hips and shoved my legs wide.

"Look at me," he whispered.

I looked. His eyes weren't cold anymore. For a split second, the mask was gone. He looked at me with a raw, desperate hunger that wasn't just about the fuck. 

He looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, like he was drowning and I was the only air he had left.

His hand lingered on my cheek, his thumb brushing my bottom lip with a tenderness that made my heart clench more than the pain did.

I felt a tear slip down my face. He caught it with his tongue.

"Only mine," he breathed.

Then the heat came back. He started to fuck me with a raw, animal rhythm. 

The wet squelch of his cock sliding in and out of my pussy was the only sound in the room. 

He was pounding into me, his hands fisting my hips, leaving deep, purple marks.

"Xavier, I’m... I’m going to—"

"I know. Give it to me. Cum on my dick while she’s standing right there."

He ramped up the speed, hitting me like a hammer. The friction was turning into an electric fire. 

I felt the climax building, a massive, heavy wave that was going to destroy me.

I buried my face in his neck, biting his shoulder to muffle the scream. My pussy shattered, the walls pulsing and gripping him in wild, uncontrollable waves.

"Yes," he groaned. He gave three final, bone-shaking shoves. 

I felt his cock pulse inside me, the hot spurt of his cum hitting my cervix. 

He buried his face in my hair, his breath coming in broken gasps.

He stayed there, buried deep, his weight pinning me to the wall. 

The silence was heavy. I could feel his heart hammering against mine.

Then, the doorknob jiggled.

"Xavier? Why is the door locked?" Clarisse’s voice was right there. "I hear gasping."

Xavier didn't pull out. He just looked at the door, a dark, predatory smile on his lips.

"Don't move," he whispered to me. He reached out and put his hand back over my mouth.

"Clarisse," he called out, his voice smooth as silk. "I’m right in the middle of something. Give me a minute."

I felt his cum leaking out of me, warm and thick against my thighs. 

I was bruised, I was wrecked, and I was trapped between the man who owned me and the woman who thought she did.

"I really think I heard someone else," Clarisse said. Her shadow blocked the light under the door. "Xavier, open this door right now."