Chapter 8 Aurora #2
I’m back on my feet, though I’m nowhere near being free. His two hands are firm on my hips, spinning me to look away from him.
Both of us are facing the vanity mirror. “Stealing the collar I gave you is a brand-new offense, legally speaking.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t steal it.”
“It’d look like it when I lock it around your neck.”
My chest heaves. Jaw tightening, I suppress the sound of my frustration.
“You could scream again.” He sees right through me. Must feel my skin heating beneath his palms. Bastard. “No one would come to help you. No one would believe you. And if you howl long enough to upset me, you’ll suffer.”
Desperation is a sad, pathetic state to be in. And I’m living it right now.
My eyes water. I’m expecting many more of these tears throughout the many more years I have here. As his wife.
As many as Everett decides.
“Fine.” My fingers twitch at my sides, fists clenching with barely restrained defiance. “You’ve made your point. You’re strong, powerful, and you hate me for some fucking reason—”
“Language.” The command is accompanied by his fingers digging into my skin.
Talking through the pain, I sass, “Since you’re Mister Eloquence and all?”
Everett bends my dripping body over, mashing my face to the cold vanity.
“Brat.” His hand cracks over my ass. Once, twice. Ten and twenty. I’m crying. Begging him to stop. The only response I get is, “Be a good girl and take it.”
I cry harder, because fuck. That command. His hand on the back of my neck.
His attention.
I like it.
My brain remembers that I had a thing for Everett. That I haven’t been attracted to anyone else but him, ever.
It has to be those feelings from before he kidnapped me, that’s why I’m wet. That’s why my thighs squeeze and my clit is sensitive.
The memory of him, of the man I made up inside my head, it’s messing with my head.
Clearly, this isn’t the same person I had a crush on.
Two thick fingers are shoved into my pussy and—
“What the hell?” I slam my hands on the vanity.
His glare is probing. Harsh.
“Take it.” He seethes. “You need to calm the fuck down, and I can’t fucking use the collar when you’re wet. This is all I have.”
As much as I like it, he has to stop. And I have to stop getting off on it.
“Ha. You’re doing this for me?” My feet stomping on his shoes don’t deter him.
He doesn’t even flinch when I slap his wrist. Damn him and his expert fingers.
So good. So bad too. I have to choke on every moan threatening to leave my lips.
“I am.”
“Oh, thanks. Very”—oh God, the way he’s curling his fingers inside of me, it’s too good, I need them out—“considerate of you.”
“Very selfish of me.” His fingers move, steady, unrelenting. In and out. In and out.
I return to gripping the edge of the vanity, breath caught in my throat. I think I’m going to die. The pressure, the shame, the unbearable awareness of my body, it’s too much.
“For the foreseeable future, I want you quiet.” While he speaks, all I can think of is Oh, no. Oh, no. What’s this thing he’s doing with his hand? “I want you to be my wife. You have a role to play.”
The deft touch of this stranger, my fucking captor, shouldn’t send me over the edge. I shouldn’t orgasm on his hand.
I blame his thumb on my clit. His hard cock that’s pinned to the back of my thigh.
“I hate you.” My hips move on their own as my orgasm is forced out of me. I don’t want it, but I still come. “Hate. You.”
His eyes soften for a moment.
I might have imagined it.
Since, ouch, I’m pulled back up by my hair. Limbless, breathy. My reflection shows flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.
Everett looks back at me through the mirror.
The beast is here.
“Are you going to hold still?” His free hand is a manacle around my throat. I can feel his cock throbbing against my ass now.
“Or what?” I taunt. “You’re going to make me so miserable with another orgasm?”
“Look at you,” he drawls, his hand leaving a hot trail down my body as he slides it lower. “Already begging for more. Didn’t take me long to bring you to your knees.”
His middle finger pushes between my swollen lips, pressing to my sensitive clit.
“Never. Never. Let go.” I jerk back from his touch, then realize my mistake as I push my body harder against him. I twist to the side, hoping to get away.
Another big, huge mistake.
“I said.” The roots of my hair burn at the vicious tug. My confidence shrivels at his furious expression. “Hold. Still.”
“Why?”
Why are you doing this to me? Why me? Why should I hold still if you’re just going to humiliate me further? If you’re going to make me feel things I don’t want to feel?
“I need to dry you off.” Waiting for my consent isn’t his thing. He walks forward until I’m jammed between the sink and him.
“Seriously?” That stupid orgasm. My voice is hoarse. My heart hasn’t stopped galloping. “To dry me off? So you can”—I start wriggling in his hold. His cock jerks against me—“electrocute me again?”
“No.” Everett reaches for a shelf to our right. His jaw tics as he grabs a charcoal-gray towel off it.
“Then?”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses under his breath. The way he towels me off is meticulous and isn’t mean at all. Who is this man? “You have a wedding to prepare for. My wedding. That means you won’t embarrass me by showing up like you just got out of bed.”
My nipples peak as he runs the towel over me. Skin heating at his attention.
Everett ignores my body’s reaction to him. He ignores me altogether by pulling back and drying off the rest of me.
Shoulders. Back. Ass. He crouches to skim the towel over my legs, and I hold still for him. Partly because it turns me on.
Or maybe being good will earn me points with him. Maybe then he’ll give me answers—a clue on how not to end up like the last girl I think he kept here.
Poor woman didn’t even make it to her wedding day.
When he stands up again, he tosses the towel into the hamper.
“Tell me, princess.” His tone is derisive as he kicks my legs apart.
“Tell you what?”
He levels me with an intimidating glare through the mirror, staying silent for far too long.
“No. No,” I growl, because fuck him for unnerving me. For putting me through this. “You know what, on second thought, I’m not telling you shit.”
He grabs another towel, ruthless as he’s shoving it between my thighs, cleaning my arousal off me. That touch is even more impersonal than before. Completely mechanical. Entirely embarrassing.
“Does it sound like I’m asking?” In a split second, the soft fabric wraps around my neck, smelling of my orgasm.
Bringing me close to him.
Choking me.
At least his fingers are nowhere near my pussy anymore. He won’t know that I’m wet for this.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Better.” He scoffs, dropping the towel. “And as to my question. Do you think that’ll help you? Being good? Do you hope that being obedient will soften me?”
Oh, crap, he’s onto me.
“I hope you drop dead.” A manic grin twists my face. He won’t see me suffering for as long as I can help it. “For what you’re doing to me. For what you did to that other woman you won’t talk to me about.”
Silence descends on us like a dark winter cloud.
Everett pulls his lips in.
Instead of talking, he moves. A new hairbrush is in his grip, and he sets out to untangle the knots in my hair.
I have more questions than before. Like, what the hell is this?
I say nothing. I refuse to acknowledge how careful he’s being. My roots don’t sting. There’s nothing painful about this.
For some reason, my hair turns him into less of a violent piece of shit. Maybe he’s kinky. Or maybe he meant what he said, about needing me presentable.
“She isn’t any of your concern,” Everett finally breaks the silence. He pulls a drawer open, pressing me to the vanity with his hips to keep me in place while plugging in the hair dryer. “I am.”
“And you like my hair,” I try.
“No.”
“I’ll cut it all off.” My dire last attempt is pathetic. I don’t have any other choice. “Then you’ll get bored with me.”
A huff of a wicked laugh. “It’s nowhere near that simple.”
I wish he were a decent man who’d actually want to marry me for me. I’ve dreamed of him, the broody and lonely asshole, whisking me away. So many times.
Careful what you wish for.
Everett’s surprisingly good with the blow dryer. Like he could guess I wouldn’t let Elena or Rylee do it. That I’d put up a fight, and they’d lose. He’s left no room for error in his vicious plan.
Sadly, I can’t enjoy his kind treatment for a second. It’s impossible to ignore his mean expression in the mirror. His lowered brow and pinched lips.
It’s even more impossible to forget that he’ll hurt me.
Even when he pampers me like he does.
The locks of my long brown hair fall smoothly down the front of my body. They curl at the ends. He’s turning me into some kind of actual princess.
We’re almost done. After this, I’m sure he’ll be back to his asshole self.
This is my last chance to reach out to the human side of him. “Everett.”
“Shut up.” He carefully wraps the final lock around the brush.
“Did I ever offend you or something?” I hate apologizing for shit I didn’t do.
It feels necessary now. It feels like a way to his heart.
“I said.” With an arm around my waist, he guides me out of the bathroom. “Shut. Up.”
Quickly, before I can catch my breath, we get to his bed. There, a white thong, a white lace corset, and a white gown wait for me.
My wedding outfit.
Next to them is my collar, a brand-new-looking butt plug…
And lube.
A whimper escapes me.
Everett groans at that, bending me over by my hips and kicking my knees apart.
“Hands on the bed.” His tone broaches no argument. Shamefully, it sends heat down my body.
As I lean on the bed, I pray he won’t notice it, knowing he will.
“You’re learning.” Cold liquid lands on my crack. Fear sends me up on my tiptoes. “Heels on the floor.”
“I’m not your dog,” I repeat. “You can’t order me like one and expect me to heed.”
“But you will be my wife.” Everett isn’t gentle when he nudges his finger into my forbidden hole. When he drags it in and out of me. It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would, after being stretched for hours. “You’ll either obey, or be punished. It’s that simple.”
“Please.” The stretch becomes pleasurable, and no. I don’t want it to be. “Please. I’m sorry if I offended you. It hurts.” Hurts to feel this good at the hands of a monster. “I don’t like it, Everett.”
“Liar. You’re dripping.” He slides a finger over my inner thigh. Keeps finger-fucking my ass. “You’re so fucking wet that I smell you, Aurora.”
Tears line my eyes. I won’t let him see them. I won’t look back at his evil face and search for an ounce of kindness in it.
Why bother? There’s none. Any trace of compassion was lost when he stopped working on my hair.
Everett leans over to where the butt plug is. I’m quick to blink the tears away.
“Got nothing to say?” His mouth is close to my ear. His low voice is unbearably sexy.
“I do.” Nervousness has me brushing a lock of hair off my face.
The head of the butt plug nudges at my entrance.
Everett grips my hip, standing firm behind me.
I stare at our reflection, at his new emotions flashing in his eyes.
Desire. Ache.
Lies. He’s manipulating me. He doesn’t feel a thing, just like my parents.
A hateful, money and power-hungry asshole, that’s all he’ll ever be.
I’m not attracted to him. I’m not.
“Speak.”
“I hope—” Ow! He shoves the first inch of the butt plug inside me, that monster. “I hope the bad luck myth of seeing the bride before the wedding is true. That it’ll stick with you. That you’ll be cursed until the day you die.”
“Oh, princess, haven’t you noticed?”
The plug is fully inserted. I bite on the inside of my cheek to hide the pain of the stretch. The embarrassment. The moan that threatens to break free.
“Noticed what?” I ask when I can finally breathe.
He lifts me. The collar is around me in a matter of seconds, and no, I most absolutely haven’t missed it. Haven’t needed the reminder that I belong to him.
I don’t want to come from his fingers or the electricity ever again.
“Noticed what, Everett?”
Two fingers clamp onto my chin. My future husband looks me dead in the eye.
“I already am cursed.” His whisper is as lethal as everything about him. “Now, you will be too. For better or worse, you will.”