12. Blood and Lies
Blood and Lies
H e chuckled at her bravado. “You’re a fascinating creature, darling.” Steepling his fingers beneath his chin, his dark eyes narrowed on her. “I wonder if removing your choice has made this easier for you.”
Wendy scoffed at such absurdity. “I beg your pardon?”
The side of his mouth kicked up in a half grin.
“You pretend you’re a good girl, but I sense something darker under the surface.
For instance, if I told you—in detail—all the terrible things I planned to do to you tonight, I bet that little virgin pussy of yours would clench and pulse with anticipation. ”
He set his glass down and leaned forward.
Lowering his deep voice, he looked at her and promised, “I’m going to objectify you, darling.
I plan to fuck every tight little hole you have.
Then I’ll leave you dripping, claimed, and marked in such a way you’ll never forget every disgraceful thing you’ve done.
And in the end, you’re going to thank me. ”
Every shallow breath became more challenging as her legs clenched tight under the table.
“Your cheeks are flushed, and I’d bet my right hand that virgin pussy’s wet. Admit it, you’re pulsing for my cock, like a slut who gets off on the thought of being used. Is your precious little clit starting to throb? I bet you’d come if I gave it a slap.”
Everything he said was true. Her body responded to every word. “Did you put something in the food?”
He laughed. “No, I didn’t poison your food.”
She didn’t mean poison. “I don’t feel right.”
“What do you feel?”
She swallowed. Her body was thrumming with strange energy. “I don’t know. I feel trapped in my own skin.” She fidgeted, unsure why his words were having such an effect on her.
“But you’ve felt this before, haven’t you?
I can picture it—you lying on some ruffled bed surrounded by opulence you did nothing to earn.
Did it feel good, sliding your fingers through your wet folds, knowing at any moment someone could have walked in and caught you?
Did you enjoy the thrill of possibly being caught, darling?
I bet you bit your fist when you started to moan, only to discover you liked a hint of pain. ”
She couldn’t breathe. How did he know so much? Had he been watching her?
“You tried so hard to bring yourself relief, didn’t you? Did you shut your eyes and imagine someone else’s hands on you?”
Again, he was right, and her startled look likely confirmed his suspicions. She’d tried and tried, but she couldn’t get there. The closest she came was when she wrapped a hand around her throat, pretending she couldn’t get away.
“Tell me, darling, was the hand you imagined that of your sweet friend Peter Pangbourne?”
“What? No.”
“Then who?”
He was right. She had touched herself. But she never imagined Peter. It was always someone darker, someone without a face. “I don’t see Peter that way.”
“But you see yourself that way, don’t you?”
She licked her dry lips and met his stare.
“Tell me the truth. Tell me you act like a dirty little slut when you’re all alone, desperately wishing someone would treat you like one.”
She couldn’t deny it. He read her too well. “How…?”
The side of his mouth curved up. “You reek of secrets. I can smell them through your pretty manners as much as I can smell the arousal seeping down your thighs. And, because I’m so certain you’re not the good girl you pretend to be, I bet you're wishing I’d put my fingers back inside of you right now.
Shall we check my theories and bring you some relief? ”
No one had ever read her so flawlessly. He was right—about all of it.
“So you see, darling, I won’t treat you like a princess, or an heiress, or whatever you think you deserve, because I don’t care about society's expectations for you. I only care about my expectations, and you’re going to meet every last one.
You’re my new personal toy, and I’ll show you exactly how men like to play with their toys.
We’re destructive, and we love exercising power over others. ”
She couldn’t look at him, let alone draw a full breath. “Not all men are mean.”
“Speak up.”
“I said, not all men are mean.”
He laughed. “There’s a lie. Men are mean by nature, which is why they’re refined from birth.”
“You obviously weren’t.”
“No, but they tried. At least with me, you get honesty, unlike those gentlemen you’re used to, the high society ones who act civilized but secretly mistreat their wives and blame life’s little pressures for making them snap.”
Leaning forward, he possessively glided a hand over her knee, and she stiffened. He applied no pressure or force but gave her a commanding look. Her knees parted slowly.
He chuckled. “See how easy that was? The least you could do is be honest with yourself and admit you're interested to learn what I can teach you.”
She was intrigued, but deep-rooted shame prevented her from admitting such truths, even to herself. She thought about Peter’s duality and how he performed so easily for society. Then she thought of how disappointed she was when his true selfishness came out.
“I can admit I’m curious.”
“How refreshing.” He leaned forward, his thick hair spilling like ink on a page as his honeyed voice dropped another degree.
“Some men try to trap and hide their shadow-self. I embrace mine by letting the darkness run free. Wouldn’t you prefer to feel what it’s like to free all that trapped wickedness inside you? ”
A hot flush burned her cheeks as he pulled back his chair. He stood in one fluid motion and went to the dresser.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re a good girl for me.”
She watched as he methodically removed the leather belt. Stripping away his weapons made him no less intimidating. At his core, he was a primal force, now unencumbered and perpetually untamed.
He was so fluent in her body’s responses that he didn’t need to look at her. “Your heart’s beating faster now, isn’t it, darling?”
“Yes.” So fast it nearly shook her words.
“Good. That’s your adrenaline. It heightens the senses, so there’s more pleasure, more fear. More everything.”
Seconds shortened to the span of her palpitating heartbeats, and the walls tightened around her.
He turned and finally met her stare, his smile nothing short of predatory. He was savoring the suspense and using it to make her more agreeable. Returning to her side, he caressed her jaw, and she closed her eyes, ashamed that she’d succumbed so easily.
“Do you know what I want, darling?”
“No,” she whispered, thinking she once had an idea what men wanted, but now he convinced her she knew absolutely nothing about such things.
His hand slid over her shoulder and between her breasts to flatten over her pounding heart.
“I want your darkness,” he whispered in her ear, his voice a velvet rasp that sent shivers dancing down her spine.
“I want the parts you hide from everyone else, including yourself. I want the jagged pieces of your soul that scare you most. That’s what I’ll steal from you tonight, piece by piece, until there’s nowhere left to hide. ”
“You’re depraved,” she rasped, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Perhaps we all are.” He slowly withdrew his hand. “Including you.”
Something came over her, and she tried to bolt from the chair, but he slammed her back down, his lips smashing hard over hers as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She bit at his lips and dragged her nails down his face, forcing him to draw back when he tasted blood.
He dabbed his lip and looked at his fingertips, then chuckled. “That wasn’t very civilized.”
Her mind was a whirlwind of fear, fury, and wild curiosity.
She couldn’t willingly give herself to him, yet she wanted him to take her.
She wanted him to take everything—her pain, her frustration, and even her choice—until she was free of culpability and nothing more than a raw nerve of sensation incapable of shame.
“Shall we try that again?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. This time, when he sealed his mouth to hers, he held her hair in an unbreakable grip, anticipating her attack and capturing her arms before she laid a hand on him. He forced his kiss on her with punishing possessiveness, and she whimpered, softening under his command.
He didn’t kiss like Peter. He kissed like he wanted to own her soul, like she was the fountain of life, and he wanted to breathe in the very essence of her existence until nothing was left.
She moaned as she found his rhythm and accepted his possession willingly.
It was more pleasant if she didn’t challenge him.
“That’s a good little slut.”
There was no escaping his claim. Her back pressed into the seat as he drove his tongue deeper, taking what he wanted.
He released her hair and held her by the throat. Her nails dug into his arms, but that only egged him on. “Show me your greedy side, darling.”
Disappointed in herself, she tried to turn away, but he caught her jaw.
“I can tell a filthy little slut when I taste one. Are you going to be a frightened little mouse forever?”
Something awakened inside of her, and she stopped retreating. Animal-like aggression tore through her, and she lunged forward, shoving her fingers into his thick, dark hair and becoming the aggressor.
He wrenched her head back, and she gasped. “You want to touch me?”
“Yes.” She not only wanted to touch him, she wanted to break him with the same intent he planned to break her.
“Beg.”
“Pardon?”
“Beg.”
“I don’t?—”
“Don’t play refined with me. I see you for exactly what you are. Here, you’re just flesh and blood like everyone else. Beg me to touch you, and I will. Beg me for any depraved thing you want, and I’ll gladly deliver you into darkness. But first, you have to ask—and you better make it pretty.”
He wanted to humiliate her. And he might have if she wasn’t so drunk on temptation and lust. He’d triggered her competitive nature, which was the first step in stripping away her inhibitions.