Chapter 4: The Reckoning
Three days. Seventy-two hours of pretending I wasn't counting every minute. I'd been back at university, sitting through lectures with my knees pressed together, feeling phantom hands on my thighs where his rough palms had been. The memory of him was a bruise I kept pressing, hoping it would heal, knowing I didn't want it to.
The house was quiet when I slipped through the service entrance. My parents were away for the weekend, visiting relatives in Enugu. The staff had the night off. I told myself I came back for the quiet, for the books in Chidi's study that I'd always meant to borrow. A ridiculous lie. I didn't even kid myself as I climbed the stairs.
The study door was ajar. Warm lamplight spilled through the gap, painting a golden stripe across the dark hallway floor. I pushed it open without knocking.
Hugo stood at the window, his back to me, one hand braced against the frame. He was wearing a dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the snake tattoo coiled around his bicep caught the light as he moved. He didn't turn around.
"I was wondering how long you'd hold out," he said, his voice low and rough.
"How do you know it's me?"
"Because I know your footsteps." He turned then, and the look in his hazel eyes made my stomach drop. "I've been waiting three days for that sound."
"And you're just standing here." I heard the challenge in my own voice. "In my brother's study."
"Where it all started." He walked around Chidi's desk, running his fingers over the polished mahogany surface. "I come here every night. Sit in the dark. Think about you watching me." He stopped, looking at the leather chair. "Think about how you were touching yourself under that dress."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I remembered that night, the shame and the heat, the way my fingers had found their way beneath the fabric while he watched me watch him. I swallowed hard.
"You're a bastard, Hugo."
"I've been called worse." He moved closer, slowly, like he was approaching a skittish animal. "But you're here. You came back. Not to the guest bedroom, not to where it was safe. You came back here." His hand found my chin, tilting my face up. "Because you want to finish what we started in this room."
"You don't know what I want."
"Don't I?" He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. "I've been inside you, Adaeze. I've watched you come apart on my cock. I know exactly what you want."
My breath caught. Three days of pretending I didn't crave this, didn't crave him. And here he was, looking at me like he could see through every layer of my carefully constructed pretense.
"Hugo." His name came out weaker than I intended.
"Hmm?"
"If someone finds us here."
"No one's coming." He released my chin, stepping back to the desk. "Your parents are gone. The staff took the night off. I checked." He sat on the edge of the desk, legs spread, watching me. "It's just you and me. In the room where you watched me fuck another woman on your brother's desk."
The cruelty of the reminder should have cooled me. Instead, heat pooled low in my belly. I hated him for it. Hated myself more for wanting him anyway.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
"Everything." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I want you to strip that good girl mask off and show me what's underneath. I want to bend you over this desk and remind you who you belong to now."
"I don't belong to anyone."
"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "You've been thinking about me for three days. You came back to this room, knowing I might be here. You're wearing that same dress from the party, aren't you? The green one."
I looked down at myself. Dark green fabric, thin straps, the plunging neckline. I hadn't consciously chosen it. But there it was.
"You remember what I was wearing," I said instead of answering.
"I remember everything about that night." He stood, closing the distance between us. "The way you looked at me when you saw me on the desk. The way your hand moved under your dress. The way you ran."
"And you remember how I came back."
"That's right." His hand settled on my hip, his thumb tracing circles through the fabric. "You keep coming back, Adaeze. That's what I love about you."
The word caught me off guard. Love. He hadn't said that before. I looked up at him, searching for the mockery I expected to find. But his eyes were earnest, almost vulnerable.
"I don't love you," I whispered.
"I know." His other hand came up to cup my face. "But you want me. That's enough for now."
He kissed me before I could argue. It wasn't like the kisses from the guest bedroom. Those had been hungry, desperate. This one was slower, more deliberate. He took his time, like he was savoring me, like he wanted to memorize every part of this moment.
When he pulled back, I was breathless.
"Get on the desk," he said.
I should have said no. Should have pushed him away and walked out of the room and never looked back. But I didn't. I turned and pressed my palms against the cool mahogany surface, feeling the weight of what we were doing press down on me.
"Good girl." His voice was rough, approving.
He came up behind me, his hands finding my hips, sliding up the length of my thighs beneath the hem of my dress. I gasped when his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
"No underwear," he observed, his voice low. "You came here like this."
"I didn't plan, I stopped, shaking my head.
"Yes, you did." He pressed closer, his cock hard against my ass through his jeans. "You planned every detail of this just like I did. Now I'm going to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you forget every reason you had for staying away."
I moaned, dropping my head forward. His hands worked the zipper of his jeans, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. I heard his belt hit the floor, heard the rustle of fabric.
"Touch yourself like you did that night."
My hand moved beneath my dress, fingers finding my wet folds. I was soaked, achingly ready. I circled my clit, feeling my thighs tremble.
"Show me how you touched yourself when you watched me."
I did, my fingers moving faster, small sounds escaping my lips.
"That's right." He pulled my hand away, replacing it with himself. I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, slick and hot. "Now I'm going to give you what you've been thinking about for three days."
He slammed into me.
The force of it drove me forward, my palms scraping against the mahogany as I cried out. He didn't give me time to adjust, pulling out and thrusting again, hard enough to make the desk rock against the wall. The sound echoed through the room, mixing with my moans and his grunts.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back. "To be fucked on your brother's desk. To be dirty and wrong and so far from the good girl everyone thinks you are."
"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, Hugo, yes."
He fucked me harder, each thrust driving me higher. The desk creaked beneath us. I could feel the exact spot where Lena had lain only days before, and the thought made my cunt clench around him.
"Ride it out," he ordered. "Take me."
I pushed back against him, meeting each thrust, feeling him go deeper. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside me that made my vision go white. I came with a scream I couldn't hold back, my body convulsing around him.
"Fuck, good girl." His rhythm stuttered, and he pulled out abruptly, spilling hot come across my lower back. "Fuck, Adaeze."
I collapsed onto the desk, gasping, feeling the heat of his release cooling on my skin. He pulled me up, turned me around, kissed me with a tenderness that felt wildly incongruous with what we'd just done.
"Three days," he murmured against my lips. "Don't make me wait that long again."