Chapter 12 #2
I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the blood again as I fought back any sound that might escape me.
Violated and exposed, I retreated into the compartmentalized mind that had helped me survive in several situations before although none as harrowing as this: separating myself from what was happening to my body.
Beatrice leaned forward without warning and took one of my nipples into her mouth, sucking hard enough to make me sob in agony.
Her teeth grazed my sensitive flesh, the pain sharp and unexpected.
I caught Alexander's gaze across the room.
His jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jumping.
His eyes conveying a silent message I couldn't quite decipher.
Then, abruptly, Beatrice stepped back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Bitch, he'll never choose you," she spat, her mood switching from aroused to furious in an instant.
"If you're some kind of item, you're just a temporary distraction from what he really craves.
" Her voice dropped to a whisper, leaning close to my ear.
"See, Alexander is like me. He likes it dark.
.. depraved... filthy. Pain and pleasure intertwined until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. "
She retrieved the knife from the floor and turned back to Alexander, walking toward him with renewed purpose. "Watch, Aoife. Watch how much he likes it."
She straddled him without preamble, pressing the knife against his throat with one hand while the other guided his head up to face her. "You can do it even when scared, can't you, Alexander?"
With theatrical slowness, she pulled her short dress up, revealing she wore nothing underneath, her bare sex exposed and glistening with arousal. She gyrated her hips and lowered herself onto him, rubbing herself on his still-soft cock.
"Now you feel how wet I am for you," she breathed, the words almost a prayer. "How much I've needed this..."
She lowered her free hand and grabbed his cock, stroking it roughly. "If you don't do as I say, I will slit her throat first, then yours."
Alexander's jaw clenched, but his eyes found mine over Beatrice's shoulder. There was calculation there, not just fear—the look of a man formulating a plan even in the midst of hell.
Beatrice rose from his lap, then knelt between his legs, setting the knife on the floor within easy reach.
Without preamble, she took him into her mouth, her blonde head bobbing rhythmically between his thighs.
Alexander's expression remained tightly controlled, but I could see the revulsion he was fighting to hide.
His cock remained stubbornly unresponsive despite her increasingly aggressive efforts. Frustration radiated from her as she worked harder, one hand stroking his shaft while her mouth moved over him. Still, nothing.
Then his eyes locked with mine, sending a silent message to me. Understanding dawned—he needed help, and I was the only one who could provide it. If we wanted to survive this, I had to set aside all pride and play along.
I pushed aside my disgust and fear, focusing instead on the raw connection that had always existed between us.
I slid my tongue across my lips with deliberation, parting my legs as much as my suspended position allowed, stretching down on tiptoes.
The chains rattled as I shifted into a more provocative pose, remembering the electricity that had sparked between us that night two years ago—the explosive chemistry that had led us to abandon caution in a roomful of observers.
The corner of Alexander's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Slowly, his body began to respond, blood flowing to his cock as Beatrice continued her assault. His gaze never left mine, creating a connection that somehow excluded Beatrice entirely despite her intimate position.
I began to move subtly, undulating my hips as though invisible hands were exploring my body.
The whole scene was contrived, but with my falling into character something deeper stirred within me—a perverse arousal at the intensity of his gaze, at the danger of our situation, at the forbidden nature of our connection.
I was so completely fucked up, as luck would have it.
At last, he was fully erect. Beatrice pulled back, wiping her mouth with triumphant satisfaction before straddling him again, knife back in hand.
She positioned herself over him and sank down, taking him inside her with a moan that echoed through the barn.
He winced, jaw tight. The pressure to perform was real.
She began to ride him, her movements frantic and uncoordinated.
"Watch, Aoife," she ordered breathlessly. "Don't turn away or I will hurt him."
With the knife pressed against his throat, Alexander had no choice but to comply with her demands. But his eyes—those intense eyes that had haunted my dreams for two years—remained fixed on me as Beatrice used his body.
I caught his gaze and held it, then began moving my hips in time with Beatrice's, creating the illusion that I was the one taking him, that this coupling was happening between us alone. I increased the intensity of my movements, watching as his breathing grew heavier, his muscles tensing visibly.
"Look at me," I mouthed silently, giving him somewhere to focus beyond the violation of his body. "Only me."
Something shifted in his expression—gratitude, perhaps, or a deeper understanding passing between us. His breathing quickened, his powerful body tensing as Beatrice drove herself on him with increasing abandon.
“Come, or I kill her,” she said.
I nodded. “Soon…” I breathed, sighing.
Hurting.
Finally, his face contorted and he reached climax, a strangled groan escaping his lips as he came inside her. Through it all, his eyes never left mine—creating an intimacy that somehow transcended the perverse reality of our situation.
Moisture brimmed in his eyes at the same time that a tear streaked down my cheek.
Motherfucking bitch.
"He needs someone who understands his darkness—who craves it the way I do," Beatrice panted, her chest heaving with exertion and triumph. She leaned forward, whispering something in his ear that made his expression harden.
When she was done, she climbed off him with feline grace, letting his seed drip down her inner thigh as she lowered her dress and retrieved her knife. She approached me one last time, tracing the tip of the blade along my collarbone.
"You helped him," she observed, her voice suddenly cold. "How touching. But it changes nothing."
She turned back to Alexander, her posture softening.
"I'll be back, and then, Alexander will be mine forever.
After I get you out of the way." Her voice took on a dreamy quality.
"He and I will get rid of Ronan and Cressida and run this place together.
.. after Patrick," she sniffled dramatically, "sadly dies in a car accident. "
And then, she left us—naked, chained, staring at each other across the dimly lit barn. Alexander's softening cock was still wet with her fluids, cum glistening on the floor beneath his chair. The moment the door closed behind her, his eyes met mine, intense and filled with determination.
"We need to get out of here," he said quietly, already testing his bonds with methodical determination. "Before she comes back."
I nodded, wincing as the movement sent fresh pain through my shoulders. "Any brilliant ideas, or should I just hang around a while longer?" I chuckled mirthlessly.
His unexpected smile—although fleeting—sent a strange warmth through my chest. “Actually,” he said, twisting his wrist in a peculiar way, “I think I might have something.”