Chapter 7 #2
“Why don’t you put away the stones, little miss glass house, and turn to the next page in your welcome packet.”
I sneer at him, angrily flipping past my rehab records—
Jesus H. Christ.
It’s my internet history printed out and staring me full in the face, a leering, lurid catalogue of my darkest secrets.
The medical records are awful enough.
This is worse.
Much worse.
“Did you hack my computer, asshole?!”
Bane chuckles quietly as he stands and walks out from behind his desk.
“Now, some of these—the Dom-sub stuff, the restraints, the pain play—I mean, not that outrageous, little bird,” he murmurs with a sick grin.
“But some of your other kinks?” He whistles quietly.
“My, my, my. You do have colorful needs, don’t you? ”
I’m shaking, the folder trembling in my hands as I stare at all my damning secrets spilled across the page.
“You’re a fucking monster,” I whisper.
“Oh, don’t play the victim card now. You should know better than that.”
I rip my gaze to his, shivering as he slowly circles me. “You don’t know a fucking thing about…”
Bane laughs coldly.
“Please,” he murmurs. “Finish that thought. In fact, let me get you a mirror to say it into, so you can see exactly how foolish you look.”
Bane continues his slow walk around me, sending heated shivers rippling over my skin as his predatory eyes rake over me.
“Why don't you turn to the last page now.”
It takes me a second to process what I’m looking at.
“No—”
“Go ahead, read it out loud. I want to be sure we’re both on the same page.”
“This is—”
“A prenup, of sorts.”
I bark a laugh. “You think I want your fucking money?!”
“I asked you to read it out loud.”
I stare at the page in front of me, then back at him. “This isn’t even a prenup. It’s…” I frown. “Wait, what the fuck is—”
“Read. It,” he growls.
“Fine.” My eyes drop to the page and I take a slow breath, shivering. “Contract of consent to physical and sexual activity between Bane Antonov and Dove Marchetti.”
Heat pools low in my core as I slowly lift my eyes to his. “Bane—”
“Keep going.”
“The undersigned agrees to be a willing and active participant—” I stop, shaking my head. “There’s no fucking way this is legal.”
“Read it.”
I glare at him, then back at the page.
“—In the following activities. Vaginal, oral, and anal—no, I’m not—”
“There’s more.”
I bare my teeth at him. “I’m aware of that.” My eyes drop back to the page. “Kinks including consensual non-consent…”
I start to raise my head, but he shakes his. “Don’t make yourself look foolish and pretend you don’t know what that means,” he say. “Or do I need you to go back over your extensive internet porn viewing history?”
“Asshole,” I mutter. “D/s dynamics, either part- or full-time. Impact play…”
My cheeks heat.
“Somnophilic activities—”
“It means I’ll fuck you or do whatever else I want to you while you sleep. But you knew that. Keep going.”
“Bondage. Orgasm denial…” My face throbs. “Free use.”
I look up at him. Bane exhales slowly as he continues to pace around me.
“This marriage doesn't just mean that my family will get access to your father’s shipping port.” He nods his chin at the folder trembling in my hands. “It also means you’re going to be mine, in every sense of the word.”
I start to open my mouth. But suddenly, I’m jolting as he cups my jaw, then deftly pushes two fingers over my bottom lip, holding my jaw open as he shakes his head.
“Uh-uh, little bird,” he murmurs.
I shiver, something dark and sinful coiling in my core as he pushes his fingers into my mouth, sliding them over my tongue.
“I know all your secrets. All the deviant, dark, dirty little things that you crave.” His fingers are still in my mouth, keeping my jaw open as he stabs his smoky dark eyes right into mine.
“And after you’ve read that list? I bet if I reached between your legs right now I'd find you nice and wet, wouldn’t I? ”
I spit his fingers out of my mouth.
“Just try to put your hands between my legs and see what happens,” I hiss.
Bane chuckles as he resumes his pacing. “Oh, I’m not going to play that game with you. Not today. But when you’re my wife—”
“That isn’t happ—OW!”
Before I can even get the word out, he’s lifted the back of my skirt and brought his hand smacking hard against my bare ass with a loud CRACK.
“What the fuck?!” I jolt, half-whirling toward him even as he continues his slow, languid walk around me. “Are you fucking kidding?! You can’t just—”
“Interrupt me again,” he murmurs, “and the next time will be over my knee, with that charming goth barbie skirt pulled up over your ass.”
My eyes bulge wide.
“When you’re my wife,” Bane growls, “I’ll be putting my hands on you however I see fit. Whenever I see fit.”
I shiver, gasping quietly when his lips brush my earlobe from behind.
“Remember; I know all the dirty things you like.”
I cringe, my face throbbing.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” he murmurs into my ear as he continues his walk. “I’m into them, too. Would you like to find out now?”
“Pass,” I sneer.
He shrugs. “You can go ahead and sign that contract now.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
Bane levels a cold look at me. “Oh, you are. And I think you want to.”
He moves right into my personal space, looming over me as his eyes stab into mine. He lowers his mouth, and I bite back a gasp when his lips brush my ear.
“As much as you want to hate me for it, it excites you, little bird,” he murmurs right into my ear, sending a ripple up my spine as it snaps rigid. “Knowing I’m going to fuck you; hard, brutally, without mercy. And we both know you’re going to be begging me for more.”
I laugh coldly. “I highly doubt that.”
Joke's on him: I don’t come.
Ever.
That doesn’t mean I don’t try, of course. See also: my internet history. It doesn’t mean I can’t feel pleasure. But I can’t reach orgasm, never have.
But something tells me this isn’t an issue that Bane is going to remotely concern himself with.
He steps back and leans against the front edge of his desk, his arms folded across his chest. My heart thuds, my skin tingling as his eyes lance into me.
“Are you doing this because I look like her?” I say quietly.
Bane’s eyes narrow. “That would be sick,” he growls.
“Your words.”
Our gazes clash again. I look for the truth in his eyes. But if there’s anything there at all, it’s lost, swirled together with the malevolence and venom.
Bane holds out a pen.
“What if I don’t?” I croak. “Sign, that is?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Then I’d get ready to have some very uncomfortable conversations with just about everyone who thought they knew you.”
Tears bead in the corners of my eyes as I look away.
“You’re a bastard.”
“And you took away the woman I loved,” he spits. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t think we’re even a little bit even. Sign the fucking contract.”
I could hem and haw. I could make more of a stink. I could hit him, or scream, or cause a scene.
But in the end, I know it's useless.
Wordlessly, I grab the pen from his hand and sign on the dotted line. Then I fling the whole folder at him, pure fury on my face.
Bane exhales slowly, glancing at the contract and then closing the folder. Wordlessly, he walks back around to the far side of the desk and sits in his chair.
“It’s time to start.”
I blink quickly. “W-what?”
Bane leans back in his chair. “Strip.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Excuse—”
“Do you or do you not understand what you just signed.”
My mouth purses. “I do.”
“Good, there’s no confusion. Now, take your clothes off, or I’ll do it for you.”
My body clenches. A war rages inside me: the rebelling, riotous, furious part of me battling the traitorous, toxic, cancerous part of me that feels fucking warm when his cold gaze lands on me.
“This is fucked up and sick,” I hiss.
“Duly noted.”
My eyes lock on his.
Fuck him. He won’t get the better of me. Seeing my body doesn’t mean he owns me. And if he wants to cage me in with him, too bad. Because he won’t be caging me in with him. He’ll be caging himself in with me.
And I’ll make sure it’s his fucking funeral.
“Fine,” I say, shrugging.
I reach for the zipper of my hoodie, tugging it down and shrugging it off. The skirt is next.
No seductive smiles. No coy winks.
He only gets clinical, detached undressing.
He’s going to regret every fucking second of this.