Chapter 270 - 270: Remember The Endless Lovemaking

"Because Andrew would never ask me to do such a thing," Avery says. "You think you're better than him, but he's ten times the man you'll ever be."

Evan's face clouds with anger, and he raises his arm and slaps her across the face. Her head jerks sideways, her cheek stings, and she tastes blood. She looks up at him, trying to put as much hatred as she can into one single glare. Evan looks away guiltily.

"Why didn't you care for me, Avery?" he asks in a low voice. "No matter how tender I was, you refused to love me. I just wanted to love you, but you never wanted me."

Suddenly his eyes flash, and his voice turns harsh and loud. "So if you don't care about my feelings, why should I care about yours? If you don't like it tender, maybe you'll like it rough. Don't pretend like you think this is too dirty for you. We've done a lot together, and you've never had any problems with it before."

Evan lets go of her hair and pushes her back on the bed. His hands slide up and down her body, pinching and gripping and tearing at her skimpy clothes. His touch is rough, but she feels herself responding to his warm hands. He pinches her n.i.p.p.l.e, and she arches her back and m.o.a.ns.

The sound seems to make him lose control. He shoves her dress up around her waist and thrusts into her with a loud groan. Avery gasps as he enters her. It's been a long time since they've had s.e.x, and it hurts. He freezes, but then his face becomes determined, and he continues thrusting.

She stares up at him in confusion and shock. Her body starts to relax, and it starts to feel good having him inside her, but she doesn't want him to know. She curls her lip and tries to look disgusted and bored.

"Am I strange to you?" Evan asks, sounding hurt.

She curls her lip and says, "Yes, you repulse me."

Evan frowns and grabs a pillow. He puts it over her face, pressing hard, so it covers her eyes completely. Avery squirms, and he presses harder.

"I can't bear it when you look at me that way," he whispers, as if to himself. "I can't handle the hatred in your eyes. But at least hate is a strong emotion. If I can't make you love me, at least you won't forget me. If you're going to treat me like this, you have to take responsibility for the way I respond."

Avery tries to push Evan's chest—the pillow is too tight over her face, and she feels like she's suffocating. She kicks her legs and squirms, and Evan finally lifts the pillow. She gasps for air, panting desperately. Evan continues to f.u.c.k her. As soon as he finishes, he's ready to go again. And then again. He f.u.c.ks her until she can barely remember her own name.

When she wakes in the morning, the bright sun is pouring in through the uncovered window. Her throat is dry, and her lips feel swollen and sore from kissing. Her entire body aches, and she slowly remembers the endless lovemaking from the night before.

She feels hot with shame and embarrassment and tries to throw off the blankets, but she finds she can't move. Evan's arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, and even in his sleep, he presses his body against hers. She squirms and tries to escape, but he only sighs and pulls her tighter.

A sob rises from deep in her chest, and she weeps. She thinks about his face as he f.u.c.k.i.e.d her, about the mix of heartbreak and anger and hatred in his eyes. She cries until her throat burns, and her eyes sting, and she feels sick to her stomach. She desperately struggles away from him and runs into the bathroom. She throws herself onto the floor and vomits violently into the toilet.

She lies on the cold tiles, feeling weak and exhausted. She's not sure how much time passes before she finds the strength to pull herself to her feet. She walks to the sink and gargles with cold water. When she looks up at the mirror, she freezes in horror—her entire body is covered in blue and purple hickeys and love bites.

She looks down at her arms and legs and sees the purple marks everywhere. They look especially dark and ugly on the paler skin of her b.r.e.a.s.ts and thighs. She runs to the toilet and retches again, but there's nothing left in her stomach. Feeling sick and dirty, she begins to brush her teeth. As she brushes her teeth, she imagines she's erasing all traces of Evan from her body. She scrubs harder and harder until her gums bleed. When she spits into the sink, the foam is stained with blood.

She splashes water on her face and arms and chest, but she can still smell Evan on her skin. She grabs the soap and starts to scrub herself with it. Suddenly, the door flies open, and she sees Evan's reflection in the mirror. She drops the soap and stares at him in horror.

The way Avery looks at him makes Evan's heart sink in his chest; she looks terrified and disgusted. But nothing scares her—not a viper or a lion or a knife at her throat, he thinks. Is she actually afraid of me? Am I really such a monster? 

He heard her vomiting, and the bloody foam at the corner of her mouth seems to confirm that she just threw up. He looks at her n.a.k.e.d body and feels his d.i.c.k stir with desire. She's covered in bruises and bite marks. Slowly he reaches out and traces a large hickey on her shoulder. She's mine, he thinks. I don't care what she says about Andrew, I've marked her as mine.  

He steps behind her and nips her, earlobe, "Good morning, my mistress."

She frowns, and her eyes flash. He steps closer, pressing his aching erection into her round ass. He grabs her hands and puts one on each side of the sink. The smell of her hair and her skin rise like an intoxicating cloud.

"You're good at being a mistress," he whispers. "You look so pretty bent over the sink for me. Do you like it? Do you like being my mistress?"

He grabs her closer, sliding one hand to knead and massage the soft skin of her b.r.e.a.s.t. She bucks and squirms, rubbing up against his d.i.c.k. He slides his hand down her waist and cups her ass before giving it a firm smack. She gasps, and he fights the urge to take her then and there.

"Your skin is so tender," he whispers against her neck. "You bruise so easily. I like it. It reminds me of everything I did to you."

"You're a sick man," Avery hisses.

"But you like it," he whispers, sucking her earlobe between his lips.

She m.o.a.ns loudly and bucks against him, and he can't take it anymore. He knots one hand in her hair and uses the other to push her harder against the sink. Then he slides into her, f.u.c.k.i.n.g her wildly from behind. She bucks against him, and he knows he won't last long. He pulls her hair to look at her face and sees that she's biting her lower lip as if to keep herself from m.o.a.ning.  

He feels his knees go weak, and he explodes inside her. Her eyes widen with surprise and her back arches. Panting with exhaustion, he lets go of her hair and steps away to wash off.

"Evan Howel, don't you care about the baby?" Avery gasps, still leaning over the sink. "Just because it's safe for me to make love again, doesn't mean it's safe for me to do it over and over."

"Do you think I haven't asked multiple doctors about it?" Evan asks. "Besides, maybe the child isn't mine. I don't care about hurting it if it's not mine."

Avery shakes with anger as she says, "You don't really believe it's not yours. I know you, Evan, you wouldn't even be able to touch me if you thought I was carrying another man's baby."

Evan grabs Avery's arm and twists it to look at the turquoise tattoo. He slowly traces the letters and smiles to himself.

"My name is on your arm now," he says. "If you ever let another man touch you, you'll die."