Chapter 25
Gannix
Was I shocked when she agreed to go with me? Yeah, I was. I wasn’t sure she’d agree with me that easily, but then again, she’s been trapped in this house and probably wants to get out for at least a little while, and I want her to.
I left her a dress and all the accessories she’d need on her bed after I got myself ready. I don’t know how long she’s going to take, and it doesn’t really matter to me. I would wait forever for Emerson.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t take her as long as other women to get ready. I look up as she walks down the stairs, the red dress I picked out for her hugging every fucking curve on her body like a second skin. I can’t take my eyes off her as she makes her way down and stands in front of me. But she doesn’t look as happy as I thought she would.
“What’s wrong? You hate the dress?”
“No. I'd love the dress if it were on someone else’s body.”
“What do you mean? You look gorgeous.”
“In the front, yes.”
“Meaning?”
“Gannix, the scars ... Some are still healing, and I can only imagine what they look like,” she tells me. My heart leaps into my throat. I thought about the scars showing on her back, but that’s also why I bought her a wrap to wear over the dress if she’d prefer.
“You’d hide them?” I ask her. Something in her eyes flashes with darkness before she stands up a little taller and shakes her head.
“No. I wouldn’t hide them. I didn’t put them there. Why should I hide what was done to me?”
“Are you embarrassed?”
“Are you? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me like this?” I reach out for her and spin her around, facing away from me. It’s not like you can see all the scars on her back because there is a back to the dress, but some still peek out around the fabric. I reach up and run my fingers over the ones that can be seen, and Emerson shudders at my touch.
“Why would I be embarrassed?” I ask her, my fingers still lingering on her flesh.
“Because I’m not perfect.” Her words nearly break my fucking black soul.
“You are perfect.”
“No, I’m not.” She turns back to look at me now, and I can see the pain and hesitancy in her eyes.
“Who wants perfect, Emerson? Hmm?”
“Don’t you?”
“Why would I? I’m not perfect. Far from it,” I remind her.
“But look at you,” she states, waving her hand up and down to make her point. She’s wrong, and she couldn’t be more wrong.
“Don’t you think I drug you for a reason when I have sex with you?”
“Which is?” Now, I smile at her.
“I’m not going to tell you that. Not right now anyway,” I tell her.
“Do you think I’d look at you differently?”
“To be honest with you, I don’t think I could handle it if you did.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know that for sure. And I can’t take that chance right now,” I admit to her.
“What would happen if I did?”
“I couldn’t keep you,” I whisper, not wanting that to happen. I want her. I want to keep her. Her eyes dance between mine, but she still doesn’t know what to say, so she simply nods her head.
With that, I offer her my hand and watch as she takes it in hers. I lead her out of the house and out to the waiting car, helping her inside.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, Gannix.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re like him. You were there to kill, and then you took me. You keep my hostage in your house. And now we’re going out like a normal couple would. I don’t know what to think.”
“You think whatever you want, Em. The fact is, I want you with me in whatever way I can have you, and I plan on keeping it that way.”
“But what if I don’t want that?” she asks, and I smirk.
“Doesn’t matter to me what you want honestly.”
“So you’ll just keep me against my will?” she asks, looking over at me as the driver takes off.
“Yes.”
“What if I run?”
“Then I’ll hunt you down.”
“What if I tell someone?”
“Who would you tell? Brandon?” I mock her a little. Her face pales as she lets that sink in. “Understand this, Emerson. When I want something, I get it. It doesn’t matter how I have to go about it or who I have to kill in the process. Before you think about running or telling anyone anything, think about that fact.” I see her straighten up a little and scoot a little further away from me.
“You would do that?”
“What makes you doubt me after what you found out about me?” I ask her. She looks down at her hands, but she doesn’t answer, and that’s probably for the best. She’s thinking about it, and she knows I would kill anyone who tried to get in my way.
“What if I ran and you couldn’t find me?”
“There’s nowhere you could go I couldn’t reach, Em.”
“You think highly of yourself,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting back in the seat.
“I know what I’m capable of. You know what I’m capable of. The question is, will you tempt me? Will you see just how far I’m willing to go for you?”
“I don’t understand what it is you want with me, Gannix! I’m nobody! I’m nothing! I’m the fucking product of what my mother made me. I hurt people, use them,” she snaps at me. In seconds, my hand is around her throat, her head hitting the window as I lean in closely so that there is no mistake about what I’m going to say to her.
“I like torture, Emerson. A lot. And if I hear that come out of your mouth one more time, you’re going to be on the receiving end of it. Is that what you want?”
“It’s true, though.” With my hand around her neck, I reach down and slide my other hand under her dress. I find her panties and slip them to the side as she parts her legs for me. I smirk at her when I dip my finger inside her and listen as she gasps. I work it in and out until it’s nice and wet, and then I pull it free and find her clit. I know just how much she loves it when I play with her clit.
I tug it, toy with it, and rub it until she’s panting and writhing against my hand. I let her work herself up. I let her get close, and then I stop. Emerson whines when I pull my hand away from her and out from under her dress.
“What the hell?”
“Say it. Say you’re not going to say those things about yourself again,” I demand.
“There’s no denying the truth,” she answers. I slide my hand back under her dress and do the exact same thing. When she’s panting, needing to come, I stop and look back at her.
“Say it, Emerson. I can do this to you all fucking night. I can get you so close to the orgasm you crave and then take it away from you in seconds. This is the kind of torture that makes me hard,” I tell her. She’s panting as she looks at me, so I flick her clit a few times, then stop.
“Gannix, please.”
“Say it, Em. Just say it,” I urge her once more. At first, I don’t think she will because she’s stubborn as hell, but then I flick her clit, and she does it.
“Fine! I’ll stop. I won’t say it again.” With her words, I pull my hand out from under her dress and away from her neck. I move back into my seat as she stares at the side of my head.
“Did you really think you could talk about yourself that way, and I’d let you come? That’s not how this works,” I inform her.
“I said what you wanted me to say!”
“A little late. You should have never said it to begin with.”
“Why? It’s the truth.” Now I shift in my seat to look at her, really look at her.
“Has that bitch beaten you down so much that’s truly what you believe?” She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. “You’re not her, and you never will be.”
“I don’t know who I am then.”
“You’re mine, and that’s all you need to know.”