Love under contract (24 page)

But that was the past; now he had forced her to marry him. But she wouldn’t have done it, if she was completely honest with herself, if she didn’t already know him, and then there was something else that she couldn’t quite explain to herself – a feeling in her deepest self that had actually brought her here to London. She liked him, perhaps not very much at this point in time, but basically, she did.

Gregor smoothed her hair back, took her face in his hands, and looked at her. She avoided his gaze. He knew that she was lying. She was standing there, acting like the untouchable one, but what had he expected? He would teach her that she couldn’t lead him around by the nose. He began to unbutton her blouse, and despite the heat that inundated the city, she had goose flesh when he touched her. The thin silk rustled under his fingers as he opened the blouse button by button.

Let’s see how long she can resist, he thought, amused. As she stood in front of him in her sinful  underthings – he had also unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor – he picked her up and carried her to the big white bed and put her down. She didn’t struggle.

She really was a good actress. She didn’t alter her expression even when he snapped open her bra and her bare breasts came into view. This golden, shimmering skin, how he had missed her, how beautiful she was . . .

Zara had to do more than control herself, particularly as he began to kiss her breasts, her nipples. His kisses went deeper, ever deeper, and as he pulled her slip down to her knees, she thought about something entirely different, about columns of figures, seminar papers, and began to imagine all kinds of finance figures in her head; she couldn’t allow herself to think about this handsome man with the blond locks, who was trying to drive her to distraction with his kisses, his tongue, his fingers, which were all over and in her.

When all this didn’t help, she bit her lips, but her arousal was already evident to Gregor and he said, “Relax, you lost,” as if it were a contest to see if she could withstand him. In any case, her body had other thoughts, her pelvis rose toward him, her body wanted him, only her mind thought differently.

He got up, sighed and left her lying on the bed, naked. Gregor sat in the chair and pulled his pants over his visible erection and breathed deeply. He didn’t want to give in this time. She was a witch, she wanted to be in control, and he knew how easily she could accomplish that. But this time he couldn’t, no, he mustn’t give her the upper hand. He studied her, how she still lay naked on the bed, with this delicate body, the narrow pelvis, the incredibly beautiful skin, her eyes half-closed, as if she thought he were coming back. What did she say about war and battles? What kind of nonsense had she been imagining?

Finally she sat up, pulled her legs toward her and looked at him, amazed, confused, he couldn’t quite read her gaze.

At that moment, a young waiter arrived. Gregor went to meet him and directed him to set up the Champagne and various snacks in the adjoining room. Gregor didn’t want the waiter to see his naked wife with the high heels on the bed.

Zara briefly considered if she should finish what he had started herself, but she had her pride. She had developed enough self-control in her life even when it was difficult, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So she picked up her panties from the floor and put them on. It wasn’t pleasant, she had to admit, and almost laugh. That’s what she got out of it. You idiot! From all of these dumb intentions! It went completely askew; he had won again.

Gregor came back with Champagne and found Zara sitting on the bed, now without shoes but with her thong in place. He handed her a glass. “I assume that you’re hungry, right?” he asked. She was never hungry or at least never admitted that she was.

She shook her head and also did not accept the glass. She didn’t feel like having Champagne for a change. How could she desire this man who had made the last six months hell for her? She thought about the driver’s license, the applications or rather the rejections. She wrapped her arms around her legs, her head sank to her knees. Gregor sat down again and looked at her while he sipped his Champagne.

Zara turned around and lay down on her stomach on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. She wanted to sleep or weep, she didn’t know exactly which. She would certainly not weep in front of him.

“Don’t make life difficult for yourself; you can have a nice life with me or not, it’s really up to you,” she heard him say while she tried to get her emotions under control. She heard clothes rustling. And suddenly she felt his body, the warmth, his skin on her. He lay on top of her, covering her completely and kissed her ear, the nape of her neck. With one hand he pulled the slip down again, this time all the way, lifted her hips and pushed inside her with one thrust, so that she cried out, but not in pain. He held her fast. She thought she would die, she couldn’t move, while he didn’t stir a single millimeter in her. Sweat bathed her forehead and although she didn’t plan it, in fact, tried to resist doing it, she moaned. Gregor smiled – he was coming closer to his goal. He was nonetheless astonished that she had lasted so long. He knew Zara from before; he almost didn’t need to touch her and she melted, almost had an orgasm at the smallest touch.

“And now, please, my turn,” he said softly in her ear. She shook her head. Gregor grasped her hair and pulled her head roughly, turned it sideways, and she cried out in pain. He wanted to see her face. “Don’t be so proud, beg me to fuck you.” He pulled her head up. He would teach this vain woman a thing or two. “Never, ever . . .” Gregor hoped she would give up soon; he couldn’t hold on forever ; and he knew her capabilities, her ability to train her muscles on him and to compel him by force.

He had his hand on her clitoris constantly and stroked her, little by little, stopping short before she reached orgasm.

Zara tried to turn her head; she buried it in the soft white pillow. Tears came to her eyes. Her breathing was labored, his body wasn’t light. She tried to turn over, but he was so heavy and held her so tightly with his body, his hands. She moaned. “Come, Zara, come.” Zara smiled between the tears. He wouldn’t be able to last much longer either; she could feel him in her and she unleashed her unique ability to achieve her desired result. He screamed aloud. “You beast,” he whispered and lightly bit her ear. How long would he be able to last, that was the question, but also how long did she want to lie here and fight with him? “Now it’s enough,” she said, and tried to breathe deeply, which didn’t quite work. “Please . . .” she whispered softly. But even if she hadn’t said anything, Gregor would have moved, since he himself was about to explode. She moaned loudly. It was like a liberation and as his intensity increased, and he pushed deeper and deeper into her, it was as if she had never left him. Her fingers gripped the pillows, dug into the mattress, and she screamed aloud when she came, the waves drove through her body like a volcano, her breath almost stopped, she saw black before her eyes, and it was not yet over. He turned her over, and pulled out for a moment. The perspiration gathered on her forehead. Her nipples were hard as he kissed them – he wanted to kiss her on the mouth, but she turned her head away. No, she didn’t want that. Sex was one thing, kissing something else, the dumb woman.

He pulled her legs high over his shoulders and pushed inside her again and she had another orgasm as he pressed her against him, but this time with him.

Gregor looked at her lying close by, although turned away from him, and he stroked her cheek. “Now, that wasn’t rape,” he said. She didn’t answer, but rolled off the bed, turned away from him still, stood up, went into the bathroom, and turned on the faucet of the large round tub.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was curly, her cheeks were flushed, she looked good as she always did after sex. She had everything that she needed in her handbag in case she didn’t make it home – and actually she had wanted to be back in Paris the same day that she arrived in London.

In retrospect, this thought was, of course, nonsense. Did she expect that she could go to Gregor, tell him yes, and then live the way she had before?

She took off her make-up and brushed her teeth. With one hand she bound her long hair on top of her head and slid into the water in which she had poured some bubble-bath. The froth was thick and white and smelled slightly like vanilla. She was tired, the stress of the last few days as she thought about giving in, the last hours here in London, and now . . . She had to smile, nonetheless, and sighed. No, it wasn’t rape, it was different than last year, but that was probably because of her passiveness. If he wanted her, he should be forced to exert himself and make every effort.

She could hear him showering in the other bathroom. The night was apparently not over; she knew him too well for that.

Zara raised her legs and looked at her perfectly lacquered toenails – in dark pink. She kicked at a mountain of foam and dipped into the bath up to her chin. Okay, it wasn’t really bad to be with him again, but he doesn’t need to know that.  His manner infuriated her, that challenging, arrogant macho behavior. And then there was still that matter with her mother.

She thought about his naked body and sighed. As she rose up out of the mountain of foam, Gregor was sitting on the rim of the large oval bathtub and held out a glass of Champagne. His hair was wet and he was wearing a white Aqua di Parma bathrobe. On the marble rim of the tub there were small tapas of caviar and foie gras.

She accepted the proffered glass this time and drank it down all at once. Gregor wrinkled his brow but reached for the Champagne bottle and filled it up again, since she held it out to him so demandingly.

Zara’s face was wet and her hair curled around her face; she looked like a little girl. She took the spoon that was propped in the chilled caviar and put it in her mouth. It tasted good; she hadn’t eaten yet today, except for the dry bread roll on the plane to London.

She ate the entire jar of caviar, spoonful after spoonful, and Gregor said only, “You’re going to make yourself sick.” She shrugged her shoulders and said nothing. Of course she would get sick. The stuff was so rich that it lay like a stone in her empty stomach, but he wasn’t her father – and that wouldn’t have been of interest to her father anyway.

“You don’t want to talk with me,” Gregor said after she had finished the caviar and still continued to remain silent. “When can I return to Paris?” she finally asked him. “When you’ve earned it... otherwise, . . .” and he leaned forward so that his face was close to hers, “you’ll stay here with me, day and night.” She looked at him aghast. “You can’t be serious?” He laughed and walked out of the bathroom.

When she came into the living room wrapped in a bathrobe, Gregor was watching the news on the large flat-screen TV. He looked at her briefly and pulled her to him by the hand. She now stood directly in front of him, between his legs. He pulled her down and grasped her shoulders, then pushed her to her knees. She looked up, shocked – what was this? She didn’t know this side of him; he had never been brutal. “Ouch, you’re hurting me!” she complained and looked at him, wide-eyed.

She sensed what he wanted; she wasn’t a virgin, after all. And she had no problem with oral sex, in fact, she enjoyed it. But no one had forced her before. Tears of rage welled up in her eyes. “If you want to leave here tomorrow, behave yourself now. Then you can take my private plane to Paris tomorrow,” he said softly and opened his robe. He was naked underneath. Then he lifted her chin so that she would have to look at him, and saw the tears running down her cheeks. He knew her pride had been hurt. Perhaps she could sense a little how hurt he had been when she simply abandoned him, and made him a laughing stock among all his acquaintances, and broke his heart. “And beware, if you bite me,” he added. He leaned back and began to play with her long hair while she took his member into her mouth. He looked at her curls and then at her lips, which enclosed his penis. God, how he loved this woman. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Before he was ready to come in her mouth, he pulled her up, slipped her robe over her shoulders and carried her to the bed. She smelled like body lotion, with a scent like vanilla, and her skin was warm from the bath, and silky.

He tried again to kiss her, and she turned her head away again. She was so furious with him, so indescribably furious. She felt mistreated, although she enjoyed touching his body and could sense his tenderness. She felt how his hands stroked her body, and she closed her eyes. Slowly the warmth rose up in her, her pelvis pushed up toward his fingers, he had kissed every spot on her body and she felt as if she would lose consciousness. She moaned and his fingers slid into her briefly, and he stroked her. She was so wet that her fluids left traces on the inside of her thighs.

Gregor smiled when he noticed that and turned her over on her stomach. He ran his index finger along her spinal column while she lay trembling in front of him and dug her fingers into the pillow. He kissed her gently on the ear and the nape of her neck under her wet hair. She smelled so good, a mixture of her perfume and her arousal.

With one hand he easily lifted her pelvis, his hand gliding underneath, and he stroked her gently; she moaned deeply and raised her pelvis higher. One finger was now in her anus. Her moaning almost made him crazy. Her movements became more intense, she cried out loudly and she twitched violently.

When he finally pushed into her from behind, seeking his own satisfaction while he continued to stroke her, Zara noticed how everything began again from the beginning -- the mounting arousal within her, how he felt when she touched him, how he filled her, and she no longer had control over her body. She came again shortly after he had reached orgasm. He held fast onto her hands and kissed her shoulder fervently. Afterwards, she turned over and looked at him for a moment. He was still breathing hard and fitfully, with his eyes closed, continuing to hold her hands, with his fingers pressing into her palm.