Page 33 of Toxic Glory

I’m caught between anger and frustration.

“You look so beautiful with my cum all over your face like this,” Alexander coos, and even in the throes of my desperation and rage, his voice slides over my skin like a warm, salty summer tide.

He reaches out, smearing his thumb in the cum on my cheek.

A tear slides from my eye, then. It amuses him, apparently. “Are you crying because I won’t fuck you, sweetheart?”

I hate that I sometimes cry when I’m angry. Alexander’s words feel exceptionally cruel at a time like this. What does he expect me to say?

“I’m not crying,” I shoot back. “These are tears of hatred.”

He laughs, and embarrassment heats my face and the back of my neck. It slides lower, too, until it’s indistinguishable from the lust pulsing through my veins. Every inch of my body feels like molten lava, stirring restlessly, angry, begging to erupt.

More angry tears.

Gosh, I fucking hate him sometimes.

I want to curse and scream, but the words are trapped in my throat. Alexander doesn’t seem to care. He stands and picks me up from the floor. His hands on my skin feel like a salve, and for a moment I wonder if he’s changed his mind.

I was foolish to think he did.

The hope in my chest shatters into a million tiny pieces, spearing my heart, when he dumps me unceremoniously on the bed. Alexander undoes the restraints, presses a kiss to my forehead, then walks away toward the closet.

“I’ll give you some time to calm down,” he says. “Dinner is in an hour and a half. You’ll be on your best behavior, won’t you, sweetheart?” His voice wanes as he steps into the closet. “Maybe if you behave, I’ll give you what you so desperately want.”

THIRTEEN

ALEXANDER

An hour and a half later,the door to the bathroom swings open.

A plume of steamy air escapes into the bedroom, scented with coconut and vanilla. It all dissipates after a few seconds, leaving Alize standing in the doorframe like an angel descended from heaven. My jaw slackens at the sight of her.

She looks nothing like the snivelling mess I left in the bed earlier.

Her hair is pulled back from her face in an updo, her curls are loose in an afro puff. She’s dressed in a long black dress that hugs every bit of her curves, with a dangerous slit that shows off a sliver of coppery skin by her thigh. Blood red pumps complete the outfit, and she isn’t wearing any jewellery, just her engagement ring.

The sight of her has my cock stirring to life in my pants. I didn’t enjoy punishing her as much as I should have. Jerking off—even if she’s the object of my fantasy—doesn’t come anywhere close to the experience that is Alize Moreau’s tight, wet pussy.

Alize is glaring at me, taking slow steps as she approaches me. Her plump lips are set in a smirk, as if she’s aware of every single thing she’s doing to me. When she’s close enough to smell, I realise this is all a calculated effort on her end. She smells exactly the way she did when we first met—vanilla and brown sugar.

It’s going to be an uphill battle to keep my hands off her tonight.

Because if I make the first move, it’s basically me capitulating. She’ll know that she’s won. That the hold she has on me is more devastating than the one I have on her.It’s true, though.Alize conquered me the moment we locked eyes at that party all those months ago.

She just doesn’t remember too often.

But tonight. Tonight she definitely knows.

“You look gorgeous.” I stand and straighten my suit, unable to tear my eyes away from her even though I should be thinking of our game plan for the night ahead. “I have half a mind to tie you to this bed.”

Her nostrils flare slightly as she sucks in an exceptionally deep breath. “Why? So you can deny me another orgasm?” She folds her arms over her chest.

The action has the tops of her breasts peeking even farther out of the low-cut neckline of her dress. My eyes fall to them, and my lips tingle. Just a taste.

“Careful,” Alize says haughtily. “You might drool on your expensive suit.”

I take her hand, pulling her closer and closing the distance between us. I wrap my other one around her, resting my palm by the small of her back, pressing us front-to-front. “You feel that?” I growl, taking my time to slide my attention from her chest, up the column of her neck, back to her defiant eyes. “That’s all for you, sweetheart. Now I’m not so sure I want anyone else to see you in this fucking dress.”

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