Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Chris
MATCH MADE IN HELL - Dutch Melrose, benny Mayne
S he drops her keys the second she tries to take them out of her bra. Then bending down, she accidentally shows me her white lace panties. I’m so focused on them, I almost miss the way she tilts forward, about to crash into her front door from drunken unbalance. At the last second, I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling hard until she crashes against my chest.
“If the ground would just stop moving,” she slurs. “Stupid ground.”
I move her until we’re facing each other and sit her on one of the three Adirondack chairs on the porch. “Stay.”
Picking up the keys and opening the door for both of us, I walk to her again. “Come on.”
Instead of helping her up, I grab her by the waist and under the knees. I straighten up, carrying her in my arms and through the door.
“Did the ground stop moving for you?”
“Of course it did,” I answer in all seriousness .
“Ugh, everything just bends to your will, doesn’t it?”
“It does. Put your arms around my neck.” She does so without questioning me because everything bends to my will. Even her.
Not wanting her to wiggle and fall out of my arms while I go up the stairs, I hold her tighter as I walk up each step.
“Which one is your—” I stop as I spot a door with a dancer painted on it. It’s beautiful, almost abstract, yet you can easily recognize the shape of a ballerina.
Ella is a gorgeous ballerina. Breathtaking. She’s as good as a professional in many types of dances, but in ballet? She’s flawless. She used to attend Ms. Barry Dance School in Stoneview. It’s practically impossible to get in, but she did. Because she’s perfect and deserved it. I watched every single one of her performances. Sometimes with Luke because he would invite me. Sometimes from the back so it wouldn’t look strange to her brother that I showed up at every show.
“Who painted your door?” I ask, the satisfying obsession simmering in my veins.
“This”—she slams her hand on the door as we walk past it and into her room—“is something that probably costs tens of thousands.”
I set her delicately on the bed, and she lies down, her legs dangling off by the knees. She looks up at the ceiling like there’s something on there she can’t quite see, but I think she’s just lost in her thoughts.
Standing between her legs, I place a flat hand on her cheek. “Who painted it?” I insist, trying to stay patient.
“Xi. We wanted to put a personal touch to our doors and Alex asked him to paint for us.”
At least I don’t have to worry about another man being near her. Xi is too taken by Alexandra to even notice her friends.
“He’s so fucking good, isn’t he?” she insists.
“Language, Sweets,” I tell her calmly, my other hand playing with the hem of her silk skirt. It’s a light blue that resembles her eyes. I love it. And the mere fact that she wore it because I told her to makes me painfully hard.
She’s mastered how to look perfect to the outside eye and forgot that everything that makes her so perfect is the little things she never thinks of. The ones she does subconsciously. People don’t notice them; they’re too taken by the general appearance and confidence of the popular girl. But I notice. I’ve always noticed.
The way her pale eyes blink repeatedly when she’s processing something. When I manage to get her out of her own head, she giggles so beautifully and carelessly. And when someone says something she dislikes but she doesn’t want to contradict them, she scrunches nose in the cutest way imaginable.
Then, there’s the secret shame from her dad instilling in her that she was stupid. She blushes when she has to do math, and curses under her breath when she’s trying to focus.
There’s only one thing she trusts herself with. Dance. She bites her inner lip when she can’t get a move correctly. Everything she eats and every minute exercising are to keep her body trim for ballet. But people don’t know because they’re too focused on the image she forces on them rather than who she really is.
And I only care about who she really is. Mine. Because the main thing Ella has always done subconsciously is love me. It came naturally, even when she shouldn’t have, and even when she doesn’t want to. It’s always there, and I know it because I feel it. Even when she promises she hates me.
She doesn’t fight me as I move my hand to her shirt and drag it up in the slightest. I just want to feel her smooth skin against mine. She’s too lost talking to herself about Xi’s talent to notice.
“I’m telling you,” she keeps going. “I could undo this door and sell it for a lot of money. His exhibitions always sell out.”
I rub circles with my thumb across her hip. “Lift your arms,” I order softly.
She throws them above her head, hitting the mattress dramatically. I want to praise her for listening so well, the need to do it making my blood rush to my dick. But I don’t, because then she might stop.
I pull her shirt above her head, ridding her of the material stopping me from enjoying her, and throw it across the room.
Suddenly, she slams a hand on the bed. “I know!” She shoots into a sitting position, making me retreat back to standing tall between her legs.
“I’m going to sell my bedroom door so I can pay for college.”
She could not have sounded more like a Stoneview kid who never had to worry about money than she just did.
I run a hand across my mouth, trying to keep myself from laughing.
“What?” she snaps. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“I’m already paying your fees. Why are you worrying about that?”
Narrowing her eyes at me, she ignores the fact that I’m now unzipping her skirt at the side.
“You, sir”—she drunkenly points an accusing finger at me—“are paying because you want something to hold over me. My brother might be blind to who you really are, but I’m not.”
I shake my head, tutting her. “Your brother knows me better than anyone else, and he knows I’m doing this to help.”
“You’re doing this so you can make me do whatever you want and threaten me with not paying next semester. Aha! You all think I’m so dumb. But I’m not.”
I’ve lost count of how many times in my life I explicitly told her she wasn’t dumb. But when something is instilled in you, you know no other way.
“Firstly, you’re not dumb. And if you don’t stop calling yourself that, I’m going to start punishing you to make you understand.”
I put a hand behind her neck and push her with the other as I force her to lie back down. She’s too gone to even think of stopping me.
“Secondly, that sounds like a wonderful plan I have. Please, tell me more about all the things I’ll make you do. And while you think about it, don’t forget I also pay for your room in this house. I’ll probably have to pay when they make you replace the door for painting it, too. That’s a lot you owe me.”
Grabbing the hem of her skirt, I pull the material down, over her hips, across her legs, and toss it aside too. I put a knee between her thighs on the bed and look down at the beautiful goddess below me. Her white bra cups her tits perfectly, the lace so delicate her hard nipples are visible underneath, practically poking through it. Her stomach is taut, two lines visible on the sides from all the core exercising she does.
She’s short, but apart from that, she looks exactly like how one would stereotypically picture a ballerina. Defined muscles on a tight, elegant body.
It takes all of me not to lick my lips, not to growl with need and rip her underwear off. It’s tempting me, that line of silk right above her mound, her skin moving underneath it as she breathes.
I catch a small scar on her upper thigh, and when I run my thumb over, she freezes. I feel a few others I can’t quite see in the darkness of her room.
“What happened?”
“I got too drunk and tried to go through a bush. I got caught on branches.”
“Is that true, Sweets?”
“Are you going to stop paying my fees if I lie?” she snorts.
I lean over her, cupping her jaw and placing my thumb on her lower lip. Pressing my other hand beside her head, I hold myself above her. Her small gasp is torture to my dick as it gets harder by the second.
I should stop touching her. Every small gesture is a step closer to losing it. An addict. That’s what I am.
I’ll take her home. That’s it.
I’ll just touch the silk of her skirt.
I’ll just rid her of her clothes so she can sleep comfortably.
Even the fear of Megan learning about this doesn’t stop me. I have no loyalty to her and her idea of a relationship I don’t want to be in. But that woman could ruin my life. She could have my dad killed. Me fucking Ella yesterday at the temple, and twice today, already was three times too many risks.
In this moment, with my ex’s soft body under me, I start registering the usual anxiety I get when I’m around Megan. It’s the feeling that it’s gone, and I can breathe properly for once.
Ella is my safe place. She’s my guardian angel. Her mere presence makes me feel invincible. Her existence makes me want to throw my life to the flames for her.
“Ella.” As much as I speak with a soft voice, it’s turning into a rasp under the pressure of the need inside me. “I don’t need to hold something over your head to make you do exactly what I want.”
She parts her lips to talk, so I push my thumb between them, loving the way she clamps her teeth shut and bites my first knuckle to stop me from going any farther. Now that she has to keep her mouth closed, I take my time to talk.
“I paid your fees because I don’t want you and Luke to end up in any trouble. I paid because I care about you, and I always will, no matter what goes on between us. But if you really don’t believe me, I can stop. Then I’ll still bend you to my will. I’ll still show you you’re desperate to be a good girl for me. Just to make a point that I wasn’t paying to keep control over you.”
Looking away, she bites harder on my thumb, yet she’s still not trying to get away from me.
“I already have all the control I need, Sweets. You’re the only one who believes I ever lost it. You’re the only one who doesn’t want to accept I own every single molecule in your body. You can tell me to leave you alone all you want; you know I won’t. And I know you’ll let me get closer if I push. That’s the kind of toxic we are. That’s how we fit together.”
I try my best not to roll my hips and press my hard-on into her core. I know she’s wet; I don’t even need to look. She’s writhing under me. Her hips move slightly even while she tries to stop herself. But I need to keep still so she knows this isn’t about fucking her. This is about owning her. Worse, it’s about showing one can’t survive without the other.
I give her a few seconds to swallow my words before I whisper. “Look me in the eyes and let go of my thumb.”
Her eyes flick to mine, full of lust that she can’t hide because of the alcohol flowing through her veins. Eyelids heavy, she blinks once before releasing me.
“There’s my good girl.”
I pull away, standing again before wrapping both hands around her waist and helping her up. Giving her a kiss at the top of her head, I hold for a few seconds and enjoying feeling her so close. “Now, let’s get you showered and sobered up.”
She doesn’t fight me. Not when I walk her to the ensuite bathroom or help her in the shower. She’s quiet, removing her bra and panties herself. The only thing she’s wearing is the Aphrodite necklace. I hate that seashell around her neck. She should be a Hera. My hera, wearing a lotus flower for me.
She lets me take the loofah from her hands and wash her. Whistling a song, she giggles when I tickle her washing her stomach, and pushes her wet body against me when I rub between her legs. She’s facing the shower wall, her back to me. Sliding an arm behind her and around my neck, she forces me to lean down.
Forbidden shouldn’t feel so good. How am I meant to resist it?
I kiss her cheek from behind, letting her wet my clothes.
“If you’re going to fuck me, fuck me,” she rasps.
“While you’re drunk off your face?” I press the loofah against her clit. “So you don’t remember it tomorrow?” Pushing my hips forward, I let her feel how hard she makes me. “So you have an excuse and say it was a drunken mistake?”
I bite her jaw carefully, sucking on her wet, soapy skin. “No. When I fuck you again, you’ll be sober, aware of your decisions. You’ll be begging for my cock like a desperate little slut. You do it so well. I wouldn’t want to miss out on it.”
“Ugh.” She pulls away from me, whirling around and snatching the loofah from my hand. “Fuck off.”
I step back, feeling my eyebrows drawing together. Lifting my hand to her cheek, I give her a small slap. Nothing violent or that would hurt. A touch I know she’ll consider a warning. “Language.”
Deciding she’s well enough to finish on her own, I walk out of the bathroom. When she reappears in the bedroom—only wearing a bathrobe—I’ve got a bottle of water, a slice of toasted rye bread, and two painkillers set up on her bedside table.
“Seriously? You won’t fuck me, but you’ll feed me?”
“I don’t want you to be hungover tomorrow. Is that a crime?”
She pads to me, tightening the belt around her waist. I could wrap my fingers around it, tug her closer as I undo it. I could push her face down on the bed and sink my dick into her until she’s crying my name.
But she’s drunk.
“I’m not drunk anymore.” It’s like she can hear my thoughts. She rolls her eyes, and since her body is trying to prove her wrong, she stumbles on her feet, stopping right in front of me.
I cock an eyebrow at her as she gathers herself. “I’m not that drunk anymore.”
“Do you think it’s safe for you to drink that much at parties? People get out of control. Anything could have happened to you.”
“I was with my friends.”
“Henry isn’t your friend.”
She smiles widely, putting a hand on my chest. “My, my. Look at your ugly jealousy coming back to the surface.”
I look down as she undoes the top button of my white shirt. “Are you worried he and I had sex?” The second button goes too. “What if we did?”
She lowers to the third one, but I wrap my hand around her wrist. Maybe with more violence than I should. But it’s getting too hard to restrain myself. “Then I’ll send him a well-done card with a little note inside. A for effort. You didn’t make her come, but don’t worry, no one can. I ruined her for other men. ”
Her face falls. “You didn’t ruin me.”
“No? Did Matias make you come? What about Enzo? You guys had sex, right?”
She takes a step back. “Since you shattered his knee…no. And how do you know all that? Are you stalking me or something?” Wiggling her eyebrows she adds, “ Hot. ”
“Who said I was the one to attack him? And I don’t need to stalk you,” I chuckle. “All I had to do was look at that stupid Hermes account. It’s all on there.” Grabbing her robe, I pull her back. “You still need to eat and drink.”
I force her to sit on the bed, and she attempts to lie back down, but I hold her by the robe.
“I’m not hungry,” she giggles. “I want sex. If you won’t give it to me, send someone else in.”
She’s lucky I don’t let images of other guys being in this room take over my mind. Lucky I have better control over my urges than some of those boys she fucks from time to time. I take the bread, putting it in front of her lips. She barely licks it with the tip of her tongue. “Don’t like it.”
“You love rye bread. Eat.”
“I want to eat the protein bar only sold at the vending machine at Ms. Barry’s school. They’re so good. I haven’t had them in forever. Yum. Oh! I could go to Ms. Barry’s and get some of those for the kids I teach on Saturdays. They’d love them too, I bet.”
“I can’t take you to Ms. Barry’s school right now. So you’re going to eat this.”
“No.”
She presses her lips together, shaking her head dramatically and sending drops of water onto her pillows and comforter from her wet hair.
“Ella.” My stern voice stops her right away. “You know how I feel about brats.” I wrap my hand around her jaw, preventing her from even trying to shake her head again. “Tell me how I feel about them.”
She licks her lips, and I watch her throat work as she swallows.
“You…you don’t like brats.” As she squirms, her thighs press together. I can see it from the opening in her robe. “You think they’re attention seekers desperate to be punished.” The alcohol is making her recite my exact thoughts like a well-learned lesson. And it is. I spent a lot of time drilling that specific lesson into her brain. I’m glad she didn’t forget.
“That’s right, and do you want to be punished?”
“No,” she rasps.
“I only deal with good girls who rarely make mistakes, and you already used your quota of brattiness for the day.”
I feel her try to nod against my hand, so I let go of her face. “Now open your mouth and eat.”
She does. She eats and drinks everything I give her. She takes the painkillers too. She’s going to hate herself tomorrow for listening to me and letting me take care of her.
“Atta girl. Go brush your teeth, and then I’ll get you into bed.”
“Ooh,” she taunts me as she walks to the bathroom. Turning around, she winks at me. “Get me into bed, huh? Okay, Daddy.”
I groan the second she disappears. She’s making this so hard on me.
I hear the water running, and then her head reappears by the door, toothbrush in her mouth. She wiggles her eyebrows, and it takes all of me not to run to her and grab her into a mint-flavored ravenous kiss.
When she finally comes back, I notice she loosened the belt around her waist, and part of the robe is falling off her shoulder.
“I’m ready,” she purrs.
“For sleep,” I add.
“Sure.” Hurrying toward the bed, she crawls into it. “ Sleep .” Then she all but crashes into the pillows. “Fuck me hard, Christopher Murray.” She buries herself deeper into the mattress, and a few seconds later, I watch her breathing slow as she falls asleep.
I smile to myself and arrange the covers over her. Kicking off my shoes, I lie down next to her with my hands behind my head and turn off the light.
A few minutes later, I feel Ella twist and turn next to me until I hear.
“I feel sick.”
I shoot up into a sitting position. Heart racing from worry, I turn the light back on. “Can you walk to the bathroom? Do you need me to carry you? ”
She turns toward me, putting a hand on my chest. “Sick from lack of sex.” And she bursts out laughing as I shake my head.
“Go back to sleep, Sweets.”
I try to keep my eyes on the ceiling as I lie back down, but the second she turns to her side, her back to me, and shifts until her ass is against me, I can’t help it. My gaze flicks to the right, and I force myself to hold back a groan when I notice she’s pushed the covers down, the plush bathrobe all the way to her mid thighs, and I’m only a couple of inches away from seeing her naked form underneath.
“Goodnight,” she says knowingly.
I hit my head against the pillow and bite my lower lip.
“This behavior will only make your punishment worse.”
She sucks in a breath but doesn’t say anything. I don’t think she realizes how much I’m looking forward to it.