Chapter 112: I ate you out so well you passed out.

When I come back to consciousness, the first thing I feel is a gentle tapping against my cheek.

"Nerissa."

I groan.

"Nerissa, baby. Come on. Open those beautiful eyes for me."

I force my eyelids apart, blinking several times until the blurry face hovering above me finally comes into focus.

Lysander.

He’s looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. His eyebrows are drawn together.

"Thank Christ." He exhales, and I notice his shoulders relax. "You had me worried for a second there."

I blink at him, then I blink some more.

"What..." My voice comes out hoarse. I clear my throat. "What happened?"

The tension disappears from his face, replaced by a slow, thoroughly satisfied smirk that immediately makes me suspicious.

"Well," he drawls, settling back on his heels. "I ate you out so well you passed out."

I groan and cover my face with both hands.

Oh. My. God.

If I thought my face was as red as a tomato before, it has nothing on the inferno currently spreading across my cheeks.

I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life.

Who faints from an orgasm? Who does that?

Apparently, Nerissa Luciano Sanchez does.

Fantastic. Absolutely fucking fantastic.

I want the mattress to open up and swallow me whole. I’d even settle for being struck by lightning. Anything would be better than having to look at this man’s face right now.

Lysander chuckles.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about."

I peek at him through my fingers.

"Easy for you to say."

"Happens to the best of us."

I drop my hands and stare at him.

"Oh, please. Don’t get cocky now."

His grin widens.

"It’s a little difficult not to be when I just ate you out to unconsciousness."

I snatch a pillow and smack him with it.

He laughs, catching the pillow before I can hit him again.

"You’re such an asshole!"

"And you’re welcome."

I roll my eyes so hard I nearly see my brain.

God, I hate him.

Then I remember something else...I lift my head and look at him.

"Oh, please. Allow me to return the favor."

His smile falters slightly when I begin reaching for his jeans, but he catches my wrist gently and moves away.

"You don’t have to."

I frown.

"What?"

"You’re tired. You need to rest."

I stare at him as though he’s just started speaking a foreign language.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Nerissa."

"But I can’t just receive and let you off."

He gives me an amused look.

"Let me off?"

"Yes!"

I gesture vaguely toward him, then immediately regret it when my gaze drops to his trousers.

Oh. Well.

That’s... quite a situation....there’s a huge tent in this trousers.

I swallow, my eyes returning to his face.

"Besides, you’re still turned on. Let me help you out."

I reach for him again but again he moves out of reach.

I stare at him in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Completely."

"Lysander!"

"I’m fine. Really." His voice softens a little. "You aren’t ready to have me yet. You need to sleep."

I open my mouth to argue, then close it again.

The problem is that I don’t know how to respond to that. Part of me wants to insist. Another part is still exhausted, and I just want to sleep th night off.

So I sigh.

"Okay."

I sit up and carefully slide off the bed, smoothing my gown down over my thighs. My legs feel a little unsteady, but I manage to stand without any trouble.

I should probably be grateful that he’s being considerate.

I am grateful.

But there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now that makes me feel strangely exposed.

I turn toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

I glance back at him.

"To my room."

"What?"

I smooth the front of my dress, suddenly finding the fabric fascinating.

"Thank you for this."

I sweep my hand between us, hoping the gesture explains everything without forcing me to say it aloud.

Apparently it doesn’t.

Lysander stares at me.

"That’s it?"

I frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I give you a mind-blowing orgasm, and you just... what? Walk out?"

I blink.

Then I stare at him.

"Would you prefer I write you a thank-you card?"

His jaw tightens.

"Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"What exactly do you want me to do, Lysander?"

He rises from the bed.

"You sleep here."

I shake my head immediately.

"I can’t do that."

"Why not?"

"Because this isn’t a real marriage Lysander. I can’t be sleeping in your bed, playing married couple."

For a moment, neither of us speaks then he gives me a humorless smile.

"But we are a married couple."

"Not truly."

His expression hardens.

"The vows we said on our wedding day say otherwise." His gaze drops briefly before returning to mine. "And your swollen cunt from the orgasms I just gave you says otherwise."

My cheeks burn, but this time it isn’t embarrassment.

It’s anger.

"Don’t."

"Don’t what?"

"Don’t use what happened between us to prove a point."

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

"You’re the one walking out of my bedroom like you’ve just finished a business meeting."

"Because I don’t know what you expect from me!"

I stare at him, my heart beginning to pound.

"We are only married because our families needed this, Lysander. This arrangement was never about love or anything lik that. It’s for appearances, and you know that."

He takes a step toward me.

"So that’s it?"

I almost laugh at the absurdity of the question.

"You’re the one who insisted this marriage meant nothing beyond what our families needed!"

"And now I’m telling you that we’re married."

"On paper!"

"On paper?" He repeats the words slowly, as though they taste bitter in his mouth. "You think that’s all this is?"

I don’t answer beecause I don’t know...,and that’s the most frightening part.

For a few hours tonight, I let myself forget what we were but wanting someone physically doesn’t mean wanting a life with them.

I know that better than anyone.

Lysander’s eyes narrow.

"If I wanted to fuck you here a few minutes ago, I would have. So what now? In public, you’re my wife, and in private, just my whore?"

Everything inside me goes still.

A whore.

He called me a whore.

Something inside me snaps as i cross the distance between us and slap him hard across the face.

The sound cracks through the room and his head turns slightly with the force of it.

My palm stings.

And the tears threatening to gather in my eyes make me angrier than anything else.

I refuse to cry in front of him.

I lift my chin and look him straight in the eyes.

"Goodnight, Lysander."

Then I turn around, walk out of his bedroom, and head straight to mine.