8. Lucia
8
LUCIA
“ Y ou really should not have done that.” Tall’s voice trembles with anger, his hand around my wrist bruising.
Every part of me has screamed with the need to struggle, shout, run, fight . But at his words, I feel myself freeze, cold dread washing over me.
I wonder if he can feel the weight of the terror he causes because he removes his hand from my mouth like he’s no longer concerned with my calls for help. They’re trapped at the bottom of my lungs, too scared and powerless to come out.
He throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all and storms toward the ladder leading to his bed while I squirm and stare longingly at the door I couldn’t manage to open. I should’ve waited until I’d been better prepared. I shouldn’t have panicked.
But the way he told me he was going to kill me… I don’t know what I expected or how I could have possibly imagined any other outcome, but hearing the evenness of his tone made me desperate to flee. It was a mistake. I see that now. I should’ve waited.
Will he kill me? Will he … fuck my corpse , as he put it?
I whimper and shut my eyes at the possibility, gasping when my body rocks from Luka climbing the ladder. This is one way he could kill me. He could just drop me. Let my neck break. Maybe some of my teeth would fall out so he’d be saved time during my disposal.
My muscles contract as I try to cling to him, but it’s only a couple seconds before we’ve reached the platform.
Tall throws me down on his bed, my back bouncing on the mattress, then yanks rope free from the bed post and climbs beside me. His face is blank. I don’t see lust, amusement, playfulness, nothing that I saw on him before.
This is bad.
This is horribly bad.
“I’m sorry,” I say while he brings both my wrists above my head and ties them to his headboard, the rope digging into my skin so tightly it cuts off circulation. “Luka, I’m so sorry. Please .”
His eyes meet mine as he finishes tying me. They’re so empty, they remind me of black holes that threaten to suck me inside. I try to sink into the bed to ground myself, my shoulders pulling in.
“Shut. Up.”
With that, he straightens, his lips flat as he surveys my body as if I’m underwhelming. Or not. I don’t know. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, and that makes him more terrifying than before. I suddenly want him to laugh at me. To call me stupid names or mock me or something that makes me think he isn’t about to wrap his hand around my throat.
He told me to shut up, and my instinct is to obey. To not push right now. But I also question if this is my last chance to do something before it’s too late.
When he pulls off his shirt, my eyes widen, and my breath stutters. I jerk my head away from him and peer up at the ceiling.
He stands, and from my periphery, I see him pull his shorts off, no boxers underneath.
But I also wouldn’t mind fucking your corpse, and that’s exactly what I’ll do if you scream again.
Oh my God.
Oh dear God, please.
When he crawls onto the bed, I clench my eyes shut, my throat feeling overly vulnerable, wondering which breath will be my last.
“Luka,” I whisper as his body situates on top of mine. His erection presses against my opening, the fabric of the shirt I’m wearing the only barrier.
“I don’t want to die,” I stutter when he doesn’t respond. “ Please .”
His thumb presses against my quivering lips to stop any words that threaten to spill from my mouth. After several moments pass, I open my eyes.
He’s staring at my mouth, his thumb toying with my bottom lip. The life he had in his eyes from earlier hasn’t returned, but there’s something there, a flicker of humanity that gives me the faintest hope and has my chest lifting, my body shifting beneath him.
He notices the movement and meets my gaze.
Slowly, he lowers his lips to mine, staring carefully into my eyes before he kisses me, his hand sliding to cup my face. I close my eyes and part my lips for him but don’t otherwise move. My heart beats wildly against my chest, thumping in my ears.
Tall breaks away from my mouth to whisper. “ Kiss me .”
I swallow. It’s hard to argue. It feels impossible to argue, knowing what he could do to me in anger.
But even more impossible to do what he’s asking.
“I can’t.”
When his hand wraps around my throat, I gasp, my eyes opening as they fill with frightened tears.
“ Kiss me ,” Tall demands, more forcefully.
I shake beneath him, scared to speak, scared to move, but knowing that I have to. Despite the hand around my neck, I have to.
“Luka,” I start, feeling the grip of his hand as I swallow. “ Please understand. Please .”
His fiery eyes sear mine as he stares, waiting with his hand around my throat. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to explain or simply waiting for me to comply.
“I owe myself to another man who has earned the right to claim me,” I say, praying it isn’t the wrong thing. “If you must take from me, fine. But I can’t give myself to you. You’ve already told me you’re going to kill me. At least let me die with my honor, dignity, and character intact. Please .”
Tall’s brow furrows. He doesn’t speak for several moments. “You’re saying you won’t kiss me because you have a boyfriend.”
After considering that, I nod.
Another minute passes, but finally, his lips quirk on one side. It’s subtle, not nearly as pronounced as his earlier smiles, but it brings so much relief that I stare at it like it’s water in a desert.
My eyes stay wide open to watch it, like it’ll disappear if I let it go, but when he dips his head to replace his hand around my neck with his lips, I let my eyes slide closed.
He kisses his way up to my ear. “You’re naive, Peach. Naive and foolish. But it’s all right…” He licks my earlobe, making my back tense with a tingle running across my shoulders. “We’ll work on it.”
One of his hands slides up my side and squeezes my breast through the shirt.
“What would he think about you in my bed right now?” Tall asks.
I don’t bother answering such a ridiculous question. Mario must be worried sick about me by now. His concern would be for my safety, not for what happens in this bed. I’ve only known Mario for a month and a half, but in that time, he’s proven his love, his devotion, his care. All things Tall could never grasp.
“Would he be jealous?” he asks, adding evidence to my theory. He doesn’t understand love.
He moves down to my chest, his hand massaging one breast while he kisses the other through my shirt. I don’t look. I’m terrified to meet his eyes. As if he’d see what’s happening inside of me, the slow thawing of my core, the tingling of my nipples he plays with.
“Why haven’t you given him your pussy if he’s ‘earned the right to claim you?’”
If he wants a real answer, he doesn’t wait long for it. My mouth falls open when his mouth latches onto my nipple, sucking me through the cotton material. I slam my mouth shut and stare at the ceiling, wishing his body wasn’t in the way so I could clench my legs together.
“Hmm?” he hums, rolling my other nipple between his fingers and making my back ache to arch. I force it flat, force my entire body to remain still.
“I believe in waiting until marriage,” I lie. In reality, it was Mario who wanted to wait. I think the fear of what my father would do if he ever found out he’d ruined me sat too heavily in his mind, and I could never blame him for that. The possibility scared me as well. I thought maybe once we’d reached Mario’s cousin in Chicago—the home we planned to settle in until we could make it on our own—we could revisit the idea, but obviously, we never made it that far.
Luka chuckles as he glides his hand over my belly, making me instinctively suck in and hold my breath. He tucks his hand between us until he finds the same button of pleasure he found earlier, only this time with the shirt in the way. Still, when he rubs, it’s hard not to sigh. Hard not to allow my body to relax, let him bring me to a false sense of safety.
“Tell me the truth,” Luka begins, “Have you sucked him off?”
My face pinches, mostly out of annoyance, but it’s a relief to make some sort of expression with the way he’s touching me instead of keeping a blank face. “Why do you care so much about this?”
Luka licks at my nipple through the wet cotton, and despite my determination to keep still, I can’t keep from wiggling.
He doesn’t answer, but as his rubbing between my thighs intensifies, roughens , I think I have it anyway.
I think, for reasons that I cannot fathom, that Tall is jealous. That he’s possessive. That he’s another version of my father.
That somehow, I managed to escape my cage, climb the wall, evade the guards, drive hundreds of kilometers away from home just to stumble onto the same man I ran from. Only this time, there’s no familial bond to protect me. He isn’t trying to possess me out of love. It’s something much darker.
“I’ve never touched him,” I say, just to test my theory. “I’ve never even seen him naked. You’re the only man I’ve ever seen that way.”
Tall’s hand between my leg stills as his forehead presses against my chest. His breathing is slightly labored, but I can’t tell what it means, not without seeing his face.
And then, his head lifts. Deep blue eyes that once reminded me of the river outside my house now remind me of roaring rapids. They make me think of drowning. Of getting pulled under by a current.
He stares at me with such intensity, such burning desire , that I know with absolute certainty that my theory is correct. Luka is the jealous type. The type that likes to own. If it was possible to feel any more sympathy for his dead girlfriend, then I would.
“You’re lying,” Tall accuses.
I don’t respond. I don’t see why it would be necessary to argue, what difference it would make. Whether he wants to or not, he doesn’t own me.
“Are you lying?” he presses, creeping up my body until we’re face-to-face.
I consider not answering but settle on shaking my head.
He flicks his gaze around my face, searching for the lie. It’s almost frustrating how much this matters to him, but I don’t say so. I remember his cold stare, the evenness of his tone, his lifeless eyes. I never want to see that side of him again.
Without warning, his lips crash against mine in a brutal kiss that steals the breath from my lungs and makes me jerk against the rope on instinct. Both of his hands hold my jaw, the one he’ll chop off with an ax when he’s done with me.
I gasp and turn away when he releases my lips, his hands rubbing my arms then traveling to rest beside my breasts.
“You shouldn’t have told me that,” Tall says, his voice low. Menacing. Even , like before when I angered him.
I shudder, but whatever trepidation he breathes inside me pushes to the back of my mind when he lifts my shirt over my hips. He shimmies it all the way up to collect just above my breasts, fully exposing me to him.
Minutes ago, he had my body melting at his touch, but now when he pushes his erection against my entrance, entering me with the head of his length but going no farther, it’s all I can do not to cry. I stare up at the ceiling and start to count, no number destination in mind.
“You’re wet,” Tall says, relaxing on top of me. His lips press against my cheek, then my ear. “You like it when I touch you.”
My cheeks begin to burn, my lungs working a little faster. I don’t answer. Don’t dare take the chance of my voice betraying me if I argue.
“I wanna be the only man who’s ever been inside of you,” he says, his chest rumbling. His words are hot against my ear, his skin a fiery inferno caging me in. His desire is so strong that my tense arms unwind just a hair like he breathes his desire into me too.
“I know I can make you want that too. But I want to hear you say it, Peach. I want you to say you want me to fuck you.”
My heavy breathing slows. “I’ll never ?—”
“Never say never,” Tall says, his hand moving to my nipple. He tweaks the hardening bud until I shift beneath him, my core squeezing at the stimulation. “There are many ways I can force you to say it, but I’m willing to be kind this time. You give me what I want, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Answer whatever questions you have, no swaps required.”
I want to say no right away. Want to turn my head away and force him to do whatever he must to see that I will never play his game. I will never sacrifice my integrity for scraps. Not for him, not for anything .
But I don’t say no right away. I’m too afraid of what he’ll try next. Of the threats that will come.
I close my eyes as his hand smooths over my stomach and curls to rub my clit, his length still at my opening. I let him think that I’m debating, slowly succumbing to his demand while he unfolds a lifetime of character or morals with his skilled hands. His ego is too large.
“What do you say, Peach?” he asks, his words laced with silky strands of lust. They caress along my neck, down the valley of my breasts and travel all the way to where his hand rubs, to where his length could enter at any moment. All he wants is a sentence, then he’s won.
“I can’t give you what you want,” I say, my voice breathy.
His hand stops rubbing.
When I meet his eyes, I shiver against the cold.
“Still,” he says, lacking any heat or warmth. His voice is ice cold. “Even with what I’m offering, you won’t just do what the fuck I want?”
I flinch before turning away.
“He must be some guy.”
Twenty times the man you’ll ever be .
When seconds pass, Tall brings his hands up to rest on either side of my head. “Fine. Have it your way, then.”
With a slow thrust of his hips, he breaks past a barrier that makes my eyes clench with pain. I squeeze him with my thighs as my entire body tenses against the feel of being split apart, like he’s cracking me open as thoroughly as if he used his ax.
I expected pain. But still, I feel just as Tall accused me… Naive and foolish.
I swallow my groans, my lips pressed together firmly, but Tall lets one slip freely. His eyes are closed as he presses his forehead to mine and stills himself inside of me. When he rears back and opens them, they’re full of lust.
“Just relax,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I tuck my face into my arm and bite my lip. I consider telling him he’s already hurting me, but I doubt he’s unaware.
His hand moves between my legs, and he starts rubbing again while keeping his hips still. It doesn’t have the same immediate effect as before, and I doubt it’ll have any effect at all. I almost tell him to stop.
But then, a minute passes, and my core stirs. Pain fades as my walls seem to adjust to his intrusion.
Slowly, after what must be an agonizing amount of time for him, my body relaxes, my thighs unclenching. My breathing picks up pace along with my heart, only quickening as pleasure pools in my belly and tightens my core.
I can feel Tall bringing me toward that same place he brought me to before, and like before, I’m conflicted. On the one hand, I want to beg him not to stop. I want to move with him, grind against his hand, feel him shift inside of me, and let him do what I tell myself is out of my control.
And on the other, I want to tell him to go to hell.
My lips part against my will as a surge of pleasure pulls my hips upward and ripples my core, squeezing Tall and causing him to groan. I let out a sharp cry into my arm and tell myself he doesn’t hear it.
The smell of his soap is on my clammy skin when he starts to move inside of me.
I close my eyes to the sensation and remind myself it’s me I’m breathing in and not him. The musky scent that touches my nostrils is to be ignored. I breathe in through my mouth so I don’t have to smell, but it’s a mistake because when Tall delivers a hard thrust against me, my open mouth allows a moan to exit.
Slamming my jaw shut, I wait for his snicker, but it doesn’t come. He grunts as he fucks me, his hand gripping my right hip where my emblem is like he’s pissing on my father’s warning.
“Christ, you feel good,” he hisses before slowing to lift my leg over his shoulder, splaying me open wider.
Another moan escapes with the position change, and I take to biting down on my cheeks. But then another comes and another. Each time, it feels like it encourages him, making his thrusts come faster or harder, and it only makes the pleasure more intense. It’s a positive feedback loop from Hell.
“ Luka ,” I cry, the word stop so close behind it, but it gets washed away with a wave of pleasure as my head falls back.
This sends him over the edge.
His hand moves between my legs, rubbing intensely as he fucks me until another orgasm makes my vision hazy and my legs clench, a loud moan barreling out of me.
“Tell me you like it,” Tall demands, his hot breath pelting me as he plunges himself to my ear. “Tell me you love my cock.”
“No,” I say without hesitation. It doesn’t strike me until the word is out of my mouth that I’ve forgotten to be afraid. I tense at the realization.
His hand wraps around my throat, prompting me to look at him with wide eyes filling with trepidation.
“ Say it ,” he demands, his eyes crazed as his hips move, bringing us both pleasure even with the looming threat.
I don’t speak. I don’t move. And Tall’s hand doesn’t squeeze. He just stays there, our eyes locked, and it’s a solid minute before I realize he no longer appears threatening. Just intense. Aroused. Deep in the trenches of lust. Even with this knowledge, I can’t look away, like he’s mesmerizing me somehow.
He kisses me as he comes, a brutal kiss against my firm, dispassionate lips.
His hips move a couple more times before he grunts, stills, then pulls away, breathing heavily. He rolls off of me, and we lay there for several minutes, neither of us saying anything.
The shame doesn’t slam onto me as much as it settles little by little. Tiny weights taking their turn piling atop my naked body versus an elephant plopping down on top of me. But they add up. And soon, it’s hard to breathe.
“It’s too bad we don’t have more time, Peach,” Tall finally says. “I promise, I could’ve made you say it.”
My mind fogs as his words try to register. I’m not sure how to make sense of them, but I try. For several minutes, I try. Just as Tall sits up, I speak before I lose my chance.
“You get to keep me as long as you want. Why would you suggest our time is limited?”
Tall looks over his shoulder at me from the edge of the bed, a lopsided grin on his face. He almost looks playful or mocking like before, but not quite. There’s unease to it, like he’s unsettled by something.
“I guess you should’ve taken me up on my offer earlier, huh? Then you’d know.”
He winks when I frown and stands before retrieving the same gag he used for me earlier... My discarded panties.
“Luka, no,” I beg, tucking my face into my arm. “Please. I won’t scream.”
“Wish I could trust ya, Peach, but…” He grips my jaw and forces my head forward while I whimper. “I don’t trust anyone.”
He forces my mouth open and shoves the panties inside. Ignoring my muffled pleas, he gets dressed and heads downstairs while I’m left with the certainty that what Luka just said is true. He doesn’t trust anyone. Love anyone. Care for anyone. That’s the only thing that could explain a person as cold as him.
I just hope that isn’t true for Arseni.