Every step felt like death. He had drained her, wrung her out until her body ached as if she'd been in a car crash or thrown from a height.
She cursed Matthew under her breath all the way to her room. The memory of that wicked smirk, the brutal way he'd driven into her with everything he had, it made her skin crawl.
Dragging her feet, she finally reached her door. Without touching anything else, she pushed into the bathroom, fingertips trembling as she turned the knob. She felt coated in him, his sprems still clinging everywhere.
She didn't even glance at the mirror. She didn't grab a towel. She just stripped and stepped beneath the spray of the shower, letting the water pour over her. For long minutes, she stood motionless.
Her head spun. All she'd eaten were a few strawberries with Nutella. The fact that she hadn't passed out was a miracle.
Glancing at the tub, she sank lower, letting the hot water soothe her bruised hips. Bending forward, she turned the faucet until the bath began to fill. A shaky hand pressed to her aching back before she returned to standing under the spray.
She scrubbed herself hard with body wash, then froze, eyes dropping to the sore, swollen place between her thighs. She had to empty herself out.
With trembling hesitation, she slid a finger inside.
-Ahhh… this is humiliating. Damn you, Matthew…
Another finger joined, stretching her as she tried to cleanse herself. The memory of his fingers filling her made her whimper. Her free hand tugged at her wet hair.
-Stop it, damn it. Show some shame…
At last, she felt a flicker of relief. She shampooed her hair quickly, rinsed, and shut off the shower.
Still dizzy, she grabbed juice from the mini fridge, poured it into a glass, and set it by the console before sinking into the tub.
At least here, she could breathe. She promised herself she wouldn't fall asleep, she wanted her bed, not the cold ache of sleeping in water.
Twenty minutes later, she washed up again and stepped out.
Wrapped in a towel, she froze at the mirror.
Her neck and chest were covered in bruises, her sensitive skin no match for Matthew's brutality. No surprise there.
Her swollen lower lip made her flinch as she touched it. He hadn't kissed her once, not properly. It was never tenderness, only violence and force.
-Guess I'll be wearing turtlenecks for a while…
She nearly collapsed into bed, glancing at the clock. Five a.m.
They'd fucked for nearly four hours.
Curling beneath her blanket, she stared out at the bare branches swaying outside the window.
Pathetic as it was, Matthew's face, his movements, replayed in her mind. What the hell gave him that much stamina? She'd just laid there, and it had destroyed her.
-What's it to you, huh? Of course he can handle it. He's a man.
Her eyes grew heavy. She was glad. She didn't want to stay awake.
Within minutes, she was gone.
Matthew, unlike his usual self, slept in until ten in the morning. He had crashed around five, so five hours felt like a luxury.
He vaguely remembered his back burning a little last night, but forgot to check. Standing in front of the mirror now, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, he finally noticed the red marks across his skin. Her nails.
+Wild cat…
The thought actually made sense, the way her eyes had flared, she really did look like one.
He dried his face with a white towel and, still only in his boxers, sprawled out on the balcony couch. He was still riding the high from last night.
A few phone calls late, forty minutes with lawyers and subordinates about his new project, he ordered a full file built on Stone and his worthless little spy. Quietly snuffing him out wasn't enough. Everyone needed to see what happened when someone dared cross him.
He tossed his phone onto the nightstand, pulled a pair of pants from the side closet, and slipped them on.
That's when he heard it, a low groan, muffled but clear. The room was silent otherwise. He paused, waited. Another groan came, followed by a muttered: "Arrogant bastard."
He smirked.
The door between his room and Diana's wasn't like the others in the mansion. Just a thin wooden door. He pressed his ear against it.
Every time she whimpered, it was followed by another insult.
-Pervert.
-Ah… fuck.
-Asshole.
-Selfish bastard.
-Dickhead.
Yeah, maybe he had been a bit too rough.
+All I did was use my fingers. She'll get used to it.
He shrugged, indifferent.
Just as he opened his own door, Diana stepped out, hand pressed against her lower back. Her eyes landed on him and instantly narrowed, anger flashing.
-You son of a bitch. Is this how you always treat the people who do you a favor? Huh?
Matthew arched one brow, gaze dragging slowly down her figure. Just a loose t-shirt and panties.
When he didn't answer, she bit her lip in frustration and turned toward the stairs. But as she passed him, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.
+Where are you going?
-Getting something to eat.
His eyes flicked down to her bare legs.
+At least put on some shorts.
She glared up at him, teeth clenched, and ripped her hand free.
-What the hell do you care? Leave me alone.
This time, he hooked an arm around her waist, lifted her off the ground, and set her right back in front of her door.
+I said, put something on.
-What are you, a child? Or stuck a hundred years in the past? Pretend I'm at the pool or the beach. You want me to wear pants there too? It's none of your damn business.
His face was cold, unreadable.
+You live under my roof, so you follow my rules. And this isn't a beach, sweetheart.
+Now stop ruining my good mood. Be a good girl and change.
He turned his back on her. Diana froze when her eyes landed on the scratches down his spine. In an instant, she rushed forward.