“Isn’t it what you expect from me?” Lawrence continues.

I hold his hand on my chest, halting the trajectory of his fingers. “Cruelty doesn’t suit you, Lawrence. But yes, that’s all I want from you.” I pause as I gather all my courage to lie to him. When I’m in control of my emotions, I smirk insolently. “What else is there to want besides your money?”

I aim to wound him with my words for they are the only tools that I have at the moment. And I don’t miss, but then again, I rarely do. I see a flicker of emotion in those calm, icy green eyes of his. Good.

He smiles coldly. “There’s the Blaire that I know. So full of hate and venom yet breathtakingly beautiful.”

I let go of him and Lawrence continues to lower his hand down the opening of my dress. I observe the blink of his expensive Piaget watch, the length of his tuxedo, as his tanned hand traces a path down my sternum. “Watch us,” he orders.

His hand goes lower and lower, not caring that the silk of my dress may rip. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, I can’t help but spread my legs as Lawrence sinks a finger inside me. He watches me as he slowly adds another finger. I want to close my eyes but I can’t—I won’t. I want to see everything he’s doing to me. Memorize it. Engrave it, so when I look back to this moment, I won’t feel a trace of pain or sorrow or regret.

Lawrence withdraws his hand. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting me. Then he lowers his hand once more, entering me with three fingers this time, his saliva and my body’s reaction to him lubricating his touch. My breath shortens as my pulse accelerates. I grip the edge of the table for balance and bite my lip to stop myself from moaning. I won’t give him the pleasure of knowing what he does to me. He begins to pull them in and out, pumping savagely into me, making my head swirl in pleasure laced with pain. Or is it the other way around?

The sweet and pungent smell of sex fills the air. I can hear the wetness gathering in my pussy as he enters me with his punishing fingers, with his unforgiving, divine strokes. I feel him all the way to my core, carving his name in the marrow of my bones.

His thumb starts to rub my clit as he fucks me with his hand, hooking his fingers inside of me, hitting my G-spot deliciously. There’s a fiery, hot blush spreading on the cheeks of the girl staring back at me; her eyes hazy with lust, his ablaze. His breathing accelerates and I ache with unfulfilled passion as he continues to finger fuck me to oblivion. My vision blurs. My body burns. I’m drowning. I’m flying. Everything sings. Everything explodes. And just like that, I come undone. I unravel. And it’s fucking ecstasy.

When I’m lucid, I watch him withdraw his hand from my body. He raises it and traces my lips with his wet fingers.

“Open your mouth,” he orders.

I ignore his demand and he forces his fingers past my lips, making me taste myself on him. Once he removes them from my mouth, he fists my hair in his hand, pulling my head back and making me look up at him. Hovering over me, he hisses angrily, “Taste what my fucking money can buy.” Then, he leans down and presses his lips hard against mine.

With the kiss coming to an end, he lets me go and walks toward the door. Lawrence turns to look at me one last time. He looks composed and so fucking aloof. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He pauses. “You look beautiful in that dress.”

“You like it?” I smile sweetly at him, feeling so cheap. “But I guess you should. It’s something else your money bought.” When he walks out of the room, I reach for the lipstick and finish applying the rouge on my lips.

Don’t feel.

What did you expect? He’s just another man.