Elle
Under normal circumstances, I’d think this hallway, no, tunnel , would never end, but it does far too soon because Gant pushes open a door, and I’m met with his mini lair.
It’s all blacks, slate greys and natural wood with specklings of golden light from lamps and the city below. The bed is massive, a custom-made plush pad that nearly spans the entire wall. Something’s tucked in the middle, and as I lean closer, I see the little Gant and dolls he’d made for us. I’d tossed demon doll Gant at the hospital once Stassi brought my bags I’d left in the dorm before my ballet bloodbath. Yet his far-apart black eyes stare up at me as if I’d never abandoned him after squeezing him tight and soaking him in my tears. I swallow my thundering heart that’s risen into my throat and turn into a wall of muscle as the bedroom door closes silently, seemingly of its own accord.
“Is this your bedroom?” I ask lamely as he stalks closer the second I creep back.
“One of them.”
“Are there any for guests?”
He pauses his advances, his expression darkening. “Why?”
“Because I’m a guest, aren’t I?” I can hear Rin practically shrivelling up at the question, at me fucking up the plan, but I don’t care. Jaime and Jarett threw me off. Gant’s pretty, meaningless words and strong arms threw me off. I need some time. I’m too… desperate as I watch his Adam’s apple bob and a wicked smile splits his lips.
“You don’t like this bed? This room?”
How many other girls liked this bed and this room?
What does it matter?!
I swallow the intrusive thought. “Nothing. I’m sure no one’s complained before.”
“Of course not. No one else has been inside this room and on that bed before.”
My chest clenches. “You should keep it that way,” I say. “I can sleep somewhere else.”
An eternity stretches between us.
“I won’t force you to sleep in my bed, . I have five others you can choose from,” he says finally. “Pick anyone you want.”
“Great — ” I stalk past him, but he grabs onto the ribbon of my corset and tugs me hard against him.
“But no matter which one you choose, I’ll be right there beneath the covers with you.”
“No, you won’t,” I spin around in his arms, feeling the rush of anger I had in the hospital. I’m desperately trying to hold onto it, tap into it. “I told you at the bar, you don’t get to decide when enough’s enough. After what you did…you don’t get to…” But I can’t finish the sentence because it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad to be this spineless.
“It’s just sleeping, ,” he says, stepping closer again and tucking a lock behind my ear before trailing his fingers down my throat. “Just a bed.”
But we both know it’s not.
“You’re shaking, Dovey,” he says, and when I step back from his touch, my back meets the door. “You’re scared.”
I swat at his hand, but he only grabs my throat tighter, running his thumb over the hollow with feather-like strokes.
“I’m not.”
“Not of me. Of yourself.”
“ What? ”
“You’re scared of how I make you feel. You say I’m a fiend, but we both are, and you’re fiending for me too, aren’t you?”
“You think way too fucking highly of yourself,” I snap because he’s right. “You…you don’t get to touch me like nothing happened. You don’t get to crawl back into the deepest parts of me. You don’t deserve me!” The snap of the last words hangs heavy in the air.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, curling over me to press his forehead against mine so that he can peer into my soul. “But I’m going to have you anyway.”
“Gant — ”
“When you say yes,” he cuts me off. “But I caught you. You let me put you in this gilded cage with me . You’re insane if you think I’ll spend another night away from you. Whatever you give, I’ll take. I can be patient.”
“Good, be prepared to wait forever.”
He only smiles. “You don’t trust yourself, remember?”
I swallow as he pushes my hair off my collarbones.
“I hate this outfit.”
The switch in conversation allows me to breathe. For a millisecond. “The patrons would disagree.”
“That’s why I hate it. If you wanted to be a bartender, you could’ve done it here.”
If there’s a damn cinema, why should I be shocked that there’s a bar?
I roll my eyes. “You can’t stop me from having a job. I told you I don’t want your money.” Lies. I’m claiming that bounty, and the sooner, the better.
“I have no objections to you working.”
I snort. “You flooded the bar.”
“You know how to swim now. Remember all those naked private lessons in the spring behind Beaulieu?”
“Gant — ”
His nose grazes my hair. “You stink.”
“ Thank you. ”
“You smell like them. Like the most popular colognes and perfumes of the month, seasoned in a layer of smoke. It’s clinging to your hair, to your skin. You don’t smell like you, and I hate it.”
His fingers sink into the neckline of my corset, his knuckles brushing my breasts. Before I can blink he’s tearing the cheap fabric, shredding it, so my tits bounce free, and all the little beads I’d spent six hours sewing on, pop off one after the other.
“What are you doing!?” Before I can cross my arms over my exposed breasts, he’s pulling me through another door.
“You can’t get into our bed smelling like other men or women. I hate that fuck ass perfume you wore at the hospital, it doesn’t suit you.”
Our bed…
“Are you a perfumer now?” I snark, but there’s no bite to it. I’m breathless as my feet leave the warmer hardwood for the cooler tile of a bathroom the size of my old bedroom. “Did you take a summer course in Italy?”
I’m saying anything to stall what I’m petrified of happening, free-falling into that pseudo-love connection I know his cock will give me the moment I sink onto it. Because I am craving it. I want the lies and the warmth, if only for a few hours. But how can I try to love myself if I’m willing to sacrifice myself to a demon? Again.
“France, actually.
Your usual scent is like vanilla drizzled with honey.”
“Honey and vanilla? How boring and plain.”
“It’s warm and sweet and slightly lactic. It’s addicting. That perfume was a jammy rose. Heavy and dark.”
“Maybe you should wear it. You thrive in the darkness.”
“I’m dark and cold enough for us both. It’s your soft warmth I need to sink into.”
“And what about what I need?”
“I’m right here,” he says, reaching into the shower and spinning a lever. A blast of steamy water shoots from the rainfall shower head. “Whenever you need me, take me. Don’t even ask because I’m already your possession. So, possess me.”
I refuse to look as he slips the blazer off his shoulders and pulls his shirt over his head. I won’t follow the etches in his abs or the shredded V of his hips that are the perfect holders for my thighs. I won’t even trace that little dusting of jet-black hair or that prominent vein that disappears into his briefs…the briefs he’s rolling down his thick, muscular thighs.
It’s nothing but a trap.
“You said we’d just sleep,” I say thickly, stepping into the massive shower. “I can shower by myself.”
“I want the stench out of your hair, and you’ve put your feet through enough tonight.”
I ignore him and try to close the glass door on his foot, but he pushes into the shower dick first. The shower head catches his back, soaking half his hair, but he pays it no attention, just like I’m not paying attention to the water droplets running down his shoulders. His abs. His cock… The head’s so thick… so glossy as the water drips off the tip.
But while I’m too busy not noticing him, he’s busy noticing me because he’s staring at me with a look I hadn’t anticipated. Concern.
“, you want to dance in a few weeks, right? It's your dream.”
The only one I’ve ever had. Before I met him.
“Don’t spite yourself just to spite me.”
I follow his gaze to my swollen feet because at his words, they suddenly throb painfully as if all my nerve endings have awakened. Panic shoots through me as I envision them ballooning enough to make me float.
Fuck.
“Sit on the bench and let me wash you. Let me take care of you.”
“You’ve already done enough.”
“I can do a lot more.”
It sounds like a threat, and yet my heart flutters faster.
“But I heard you, . I don’t get access to the deepest parts of you. Yet . I don’t deserve you. Yet. But don’t you deserve a break? A rest? Please, Dovey, let me.”
There it is again, that rare little word rolling off his tongue. That little plea.
My ass presses against the cool tile as he stands in front of me, his thick, hard dick bobbing from the motion. Then he’s leaning over me, reaching for some products in the built-in nook. It’s level with my mouth, just a hair away from my lips. Involuntarily, I lick them and by default, the tip of his cock jumps as his knees damn near buckle.
When I gaze up at him, he’s supporting himself against the wall with one outstretched arm, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Maybe you should sit,” I smirk, my lips brushing him again.
The items he’d been holding rattle onto the bench, and his hand, now free, snakes into my hair. He tugs, forcing my head back to look into his eyes and the blunt head of his dick stabs my throat, making me gasp.
“I’m trying to be so good for you, baby.” He licks his lips. “You're sitting right in front of me, naked, wet and vulnerable. Heavy tits, hard pink nipples, thighs that double when you sit. That smother and hide that fat pussy from me. But all I have to do is tilt you back,” and he does, pulling on my hair. “And I can part you. I can split your slit so easily.”
I follow his gaze between us to my sprawled legs because I had parted them that easily to steady myself.
“ Fuck ,” he hisses, gripping me so tight it hurts as he lifts me back up to sit. His eyes, clenched shut a second ago, pop open to bore into my hooded ones, and I revel in the pain of his grip on my hair, so different from the pain in my feet seconds ago.
“Do you know how easy it is to move little dolls around? To position my doll exactly how I want? How easy it’ll be to turn you into a puppet that moves all on her own when I’ve slid into you?”
I swallow, hard.
“So be a good girl, and I’ll be good for you. I’ll follow your lead. But if you keep trying to lead me astray…”
Don’t play along. You don’t want to play, remember?
Suddenly, he makes me want to play because, for once, I think I can win.
“What did I do wrong?” I peer up at him, but not before licking my lips and swiping his tip again. You’d think he’d just slid into my pussy with the way those black pits roll halfway into his skull and flutter like he’s fucking possessed…is he…that desperate?
“You were right,” I breathe.
It takes him a second to refocus on me. “About?”
“How pretty eye whites can be.”
His lips part, and his throat bobs.
“Now, are you going to wash my hair or not?” I sit straighter, waiting.
His smile is sweet. Too sweet.