Chapter Eleven #2
“A laptop?” Victor’s brows furrowed. “You know you can’t access the internet, no matter how much you gain my trust. You could be my own flesh and blood son, and I wouldn’t allow you a phone or social accounts.”
Henri stood and adjusted himself. “Not for that. To be honest, I don’t miss going online at all. It’s a haven to be away from the moaning and the mess, but what I am missing is writing.”
“Ah, yes.” Victor smirked. “The book you were penning.”
“Seems I’ll have spare time now. I won’t have to work at menial jobs to pay my bills, and well...” He chuckled. “I can only do so much fucking in one day.”
Victor grinned, glancing down at Henri’s straining boxers. “Tell me, mon ami. Have you fucked your jewel today? I’ve been slack looking at the cameras.”
“Once. In the shower.” He raked a hand over his face. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Oh?”
Henri glanced at me.
I glowered back.
“I swear stealing something she didn’t want to give me is the best kind of aphrodisiac.
I keep thinking that each time I take her is the best fuck of my life, only for it to pale each and every time.
” He sighed happily. “And when she switched beneath me this morning? When she rocked back and impaled herself on my cock? When I felt her fucking fist me with an orgasm that choked my own release right out of me? Jesus Christ.”
I gagged on self-hatred.
Good grief, Ily.
My idiotic plan of claiming sex as my own method of survival seemed to have already backfired in my damn face.
I’d chosen to use him like he used me.
I’d stolen back my power.
Denied him the chance to rule me.
Switched suffering into pleasure and despair into desire and...
I hadn’t stopped to think how Henri would react.
How he’d think I wanted him.
How I’d just tangled us together in far worse depravity.
My heart jumped on the self-hatred wagon, reminding me that for all his previous comments about playing along in a farce of marriage and monsters, I’d had similar thoughts. I’d compared our three nights of slumber to a strange, unconsummated honeymoon.
Well, we damn well consummated it this morning, and judging by the way Henri stared at me, it was only a matter of time before he had me on my knees again.
“Sounds as if you have a little nymph on your hands. Lucky you.” Victor winked, moving around the lounger and placing his hands on the back of it. “What’s the book about?”
“What are all books about?” Henri shrugged with a strange kind of wince. “Pain.”
Victor marinated in that answer before asking softly, “Her pain or yours?”
“More like the pain we’ll inflict on each other.”
He nodded as if he liked that answer. “Fine. I’ll get you a laptop. One with writing software but no Wi-Fi chip. Anything else?”
Henri looked at me, his eyes disturbingly direct as if he could see all my secrets. “Maybe a few clothes for her? A robe that isn’t see-through? Some underwear so other guests aren’t tempted by what is mine?”
Victor snickered and shook his head. “Even now you confound me.”
Henri drew back. “I confound you?”
“You look at her as if she’s a pretty doll that you’ll do anything not to break, but I know the moment you hold a knife in your hands, you’ll bleed her.”
“So?”
“So...I haven’t met many Masters who are so willing to be both soft and harsh.”
“Isn’t that where the fun lies? The hurting and the healing?”
“It’s definitely the way to break them into unsalvageable pieces.” He smiled dotingly at me. “If you keep spouting feelings at her, only to whip and fuck her like a beast, she’ll be so confused and lost, she’ll be yours before the month is through.”
Henri paused for a horribly long moment before licking his bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll make her so lost that she’s only found when she’s with me.”
“Said like a true fucking author.” Victor strangled the back of the lounger before pushing off and shoving his hands into his short pockets.
“Dinner is at seven. Another show will be provided, and the treasure hunt I had Peter arrange was postponed until you could participate. You’re welcome to join us or...
I believe a few of my guests have arranged a friendly competition in the billiard room. ”
“Competition? What sort of competition?” Henri asked.
“Come and you’ll find out.” Victor smirked.
“It’s fun. Bring Ilyana. She can play too.
” Backing up, he dropped his eyes to Henri’s crotch.
“A word of advice from a seasoned Master to a new one? If you’re hard, make her work.
Never give up a good erection, mon ami. Besides, she’s owed some chastisement for her little outburst. You can’t let infractions like that go. ”
Henri shivered and fisted his hard length. “I appreciate the advice.”
“Have fun, you two.” Victor blew me a kiss. “Break her in for both of us, Mercer. I want her well and truly tamed by the time I have a ride.”
A flush of absolute hatred made my mouth twist into a snarl.
Victor didn’t notice.
Walking away, whistling like an asshole, he left Henri and me alone again.
Henri didn’t move until Victor strolled out of listening distance. For a second, my heart leapt with hope that he was going to whisper this was all a massive, massive mistake. That there was still a script, still a stage, and a curtain, and a hidden director.
But as he sat down on the lounger and threw me a lazy smile, that hope died.
Once and for all.
In a blaze of burning cinders.
His fingers strayed to his boxers.
He fondled himself through the black material.
And then, with clenched teeth and elegant, monstrous hands, he shifted his hips, removed his underwear, and tossed them onto the grass.
Our eyes met.
My heart thundered.
For all my hatred, my body grew hot and heavy.
It wasn’t fair that he looked like a demigod on the outside and was a deviant on the inside. The muscles, the shadows, the piercing silver-shadow eyes.
Biting his bottom lip, he fisted himself and dragged his gaze down my t-shirt-clad body.
“Enlève-le.” (Take it off.) Pressing his thumb onto his crown, he cocked his head as if daring me to refuse.
Bare.
Dressed.
Made no difference.
Rising on my knees, I swiped the hem up and over my head, cursing the thick cuffs as they caught on the sleeves.
His eyes immediately landed on my breasts. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.”
A compliment.
A worship.
It made me feel seedy, dirty, and stained by every touch he’d given and every word he’d used to control me.
He squeezed himself. “Rampe jusqu’à moi.” (Crawl closer.)
“Fuck you.”
“I intend to fuck you. But only once you’ve sucked me.”
“I’d rather bite.”
He moved too fast, inhumanly fast.
One moment, he sat on the lounger with legs indecently spread.
The next, he grabbed my hips, tossed me onto my hands and knees, and tipped me forward.
“I’m warning you now, little nightmare. If I feel the merest graze of your sharp little teeth, I will hit you so hard you’ll end up in the moat outside the walls. ”
“Do it,” I snarled. “Beat me so we can both stop pretending you’re any better than the other bastards. Prove to me that every sentence out of your mouth is bullshit.”
He stiffened.
I tried to fight his hold. “Do it. Go on. I dare you!”
He just knocked my wrists out from under me and pressed my cheek to the grass.
I hated how effortlessly he manhandled me.
I hated the dynamics of weak and strong, slave and Master.
“I curse you,” I hissed. “I curse you with every misfortune imaginable.”
He paused as if staring at the wand inked onto my back. “You know...I believe you’ve already cursed me.”
“Free me and the other jewels, and I’ll uncurse you...how about that?”
He exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry, but no. I’m done trying to be a hero.”
“I hate you,” I whispered with rancid-dripping passion.
“Don’t be so sure.” His fingers dipped between my legs, bold and brutal.
I cried out as he sank two inside me.
“Wet.” He groaned. “Want to tell me again that you hate me?”
“I hope you burn in hell.” I squirmed as his fingers hooked on that traitorous little spot.
“If I’m burning, you’re burning with me.” He bent and bit my hip. “Anything else to say?”
“Let me go, you bastard.”
“Nope, never letting you go again. Anything else?”
“Yes.” I looked back at him, a nasty recipe of despair and helplessness making me far crueller than I’d ever been. “No one loves you because you’re utterly unlovable. You deserve to be alone and—”
Instant regret.
Hollowing remorse.
Henri looked as if I’d poured acid into his heart.
I froze, completely shocked at how far I’d fallen.
How terrible I’d become.
God, if Krish could see me...he’d be so disappointed, so sad.
“Henri, I—” I clawed the grass. I gagged on apologies. Hating that I wanted to give him a thousand, all while he owed me so many in return.
“It’s fine.” He huffed, removing his fingers from inside me.
“I deserved that. And you’re right.” His voice turned stark and emotionless.
“Loneliness is my cross to bear because I’m not worthy of anything else.
You don’t have to curse me with it. I already suffer.
Thank you so fucking much for reminding me. ”
Arctic darkness wafted from him as he palmed my ass.
“This is my fault. I’ve been too soft on you.
I’ve let you think you have a say in what I will and will not do.
But the truth is, you’ve just reminded me that I can’t be two men at once.
I asked you to play along with me. To be mine so I can be yours.
But...I see now that only you can make that choice.
I can’t make it for you, no matter how much I beg. And so...here is a little lesson.”
Pressing his large palm on my ass, he squeezed me fondly. “You need to decide, little nightmare. A decision that will ensure your life here will be heaven or hell.”
I didn’t want to ask, but the words spilled anyway. “What decision?”
“The decision to play along with me as my wonderfully obedient wife or...be forced to submit as my badly broken slave.”
My heart fluttered. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
The way he said it.
No warmth of before.
No connection.