Chapter 5 #2
“Your mask. The way you act. You try to be cold, like you couldn’t give a fuck, but I know that’s not it. There’s something else. There’s more there.”
I tightened my fist and grinned at her pain. “Don’t fool yourself. There’s nothing else.”
“Then it won’t matter if you tell me your name.”
“What are you going to do for it?”
“You can make me do whatever you want anyway.”
“Making you and you choosing to are two different things.”
“I get the feeling you’d like making me.”
“You’d be right,” I said, then squatted down so my face was inches from hers.
I inhaled and searched her eyes, let my gaze drop down to her mouth, then back up.
“Don’t think my eating your pussy means something.
It’s just part of the job,” I lied, then leaned in closer, close enough to trace the curve of her ear with my tongue.
She shuddered. “I smell you, Gia,” I whispered.
“I smell your sex. And I bet if I slid my hand between your legs, you’d be wet. ”
She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. I watched her, challenging her, and when she remained silent, I rose to stand, feeling victorious.
“If I—” She cleared her throat. “If I sucked your cock, you’d come too. It doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean you have some power over me. It’s physical. That’s all.”
“You want to suck my cock?” I knew that wasn’t what she meant.
“No. I was making a point.”
“What point?” I asked callously. “I missed it.”
“I hate you.” It started out angry, but when she repeated the words, tears glistened in her eyes, and she turned away.
“So you’ve told me.” I looked down at the top of her head, glad she wasn’t looking at me anymore, glad she couldn’t see my face right then, not until I collected myself. Remembered myself. “You should hate me.” The words carried no emotion.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
I stepped away and readied the crop. I needed to get my head in the game and move. I was overthinking things. Overthinking her. “Forward. Hands and knees. Doggy style.”
“Wh…what?” The word seemed to trip out of her mouth, caught between tears and a sob.
“Forward!” I raised the crop, and she flinched.
“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You beat women. You tie them down and beat them until they’re so scared and broken, they have no will left. No will to defy you.”
I slid my fingers through the space between her collar and her pretty little neck. I hated what she said, but she only spoke the truth. “That’s right,” I said, tugging so she had to put her hands out in front of her or she’d fall on her face. “It’s what I do.”
“Fine!”
She tried to pull away, but I held her.
“You want to whip me? Fine. I’ve had worse. I’ve survived worse. You’re nothing. You can’t even tell me your name.”
I brought the crop down on her ass, and she bit back a scream. “Crawl,” I said, tugging her forward before releasing the collar, sending her scrambling to break her fall and striking again.
“At least I knew who Victor was!” She wept but crawled forward a little, pausing to wipe her face.
“I didn’t tell you to stop!” I drew her forward again, and she moved, hurrying to get out of the way of the crop. “Faster!”
“I can’t go faster, you sick prick.” She fell forward, her bound hands hindering her progress.
“Are you hungry?” I asked sharply as I delivered another stroke.
She glanced at me, and I saw the answer in her eyes, heard it in the way her stomach growled.
“Then you’d better move. Are you cold?”
She sucked back tears and paused again to wipe her face.
I struck, aiming where she’d been branded.
This time, she let go of a scream and fell to her side, protecting her hip, watching me accusingly.
“You’d better get used to this. Get used to being treated like this.”
“Like a fucking dog, you mean.”
“That’s a good way to think of it. This is obedience training, and you’re my bitch.”
“You’re a coward. You hide behind a mask. You carry your weapons, against what? Defenseless, bound women who are half your size?”
“Fuck you, Gia.”
“It’s what you do. Own it. But you have to own what it makes you too. A fucking coward.”
“How’d you get yourself caught, anyway?” I asked, gripping her collar and hauling her up to her knees. She fought like an animal. I leaned down so my face was inches from hers. “I’m getting the feeling you weren’t some random pickup.”
“Let me go. You’re hurting me!”
“How? Tell me.”
“I wasn’t a random pickup you fucking prick.”
She shoved at my chest, but she wasn’t nearly strong enough.
“Piss off a boyfriend? He finally get enough of your bitchy mouth?”
Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks, a raw and complete pain intensifying the green.
“You don’t know anything about me. Not a thing!”
“Tell me!” I shook her hard, lifting her to her feet and pressing her against the wall. I held her there by her throat.
Her face reddened, and she watched me. I wasn’t sure if she was able to speak or not. Rage hotter than hell burned through me, and I squeezed her neck.
“Fucking tell me!”
She choked out a sob, and when I loosened my hold, she began to cough.
“Did he order your branding as punishment?”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” she choked out.
I released her, and she dropped to her hands and knees, still coughing.
“He’s a murderer. A monster.” She paused, turned her face up, and added: “Like you.”
I narrowed my gaze, although we both knew she was right. The room stood strangely quiet, her on her knees at my feet, eyes red, cheeks wet with tears, hate spearing me.
“Just like you,” she said again, sitting back on her heels and lowering her gaze, giving herself over to the tears that seemed unending.
I watched like the monster she accused me of being.
The monster I was. I just stood there and watched her come apart until she quieted, and then I pulled the chair closer and sat down, my gaze still on her, as if I’d never seen this before, never seen a person come unglued.
She sat up and wiped the last of her tears, the look in her eyes telling me hate fueled her now. Hate kept her upright.
“I normally don’t give a shit about the girls that pass through here, but you’re different. You’re like me, Gia. You’re filled with hate.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
I ignored her. “Maybe I won’t bother taking you to the auction. Keep you for myself until I wear you out instead. Until there’s nothing left.”
She stared at me. Was it fear that left her mute? That pushed tears from her eyes?
“That’s a scary thought, isn’t it?”
“It would be if there was any truth to it, but you’re a peon.”
Her voice broke, betraying her panic. But she kept going.
“You’re a nobody. You work for them. You don’t get to decide. You don’t get to choose what happens to me.”
I swallowed hard. She was right. She was exactly right. She paused, and I wondered if she could read my face. I needed to end this, to take back control.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I defended.
“I think I do.” She sniffled, wiped her nose and eyes. “And you’re wrong. We may both hate, but I don’t hate myself. I know who I am. I’m not evil. I don’t hurt people. You…you’re a monster. You hate yourself more than you could ever hate anyone else.”
I swallowed hard suddenly, wanting my mask, needing it. She saw me, she saw right through me, and she said the words I was too fucking afraid of, too much of a coward to say myself. The words I was too weak to own.
I stood and kicked the chair out from behind me, sending it crashing against the far wall, making her jump, making her lean away from me.
“Turn around.” I ordered.
She eyed the crop, and I saw her tremble as her red, puffy eyes searched mine.
“Turn the fuck around.” Quieter now. Had she realized yet I was at my deadliest when I grew calm? I watched her think. I studied this girl who desperately needed humbling. This girl who burrowed too deep under my fucking skin.
Her eyes darted to the crop once more, and I set it aside. I didn’t need that. There were other punishments. Pain wasn’t the worst I could do.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, but slowly, she turned to face away from me.
Her hair had come partially out of the braid.
I reached to pull the elastic holding it together out.
Gia startled but held her position. I ruffled the braid I’d so carefully pleated until her long hair hung down her back.
I picked up the mass of it and set it over one shoulder.
She remained tense, shoulders high, arms tight by her sides as I squatted down to trace my fingertips down the length of her spine.
Her skin was so soft, her body slender, the lines long and straight, her narrow waist giving way to rounded hips.
Her arms were toned, like I’d noticed her legs were.
Apart from the bruising and that branding scar, she was flawless. Perfect.
I pulled my hand away like I’d been burned and stood.
“Put your forehead on the floor and raise your hips.” My voice held a different tone, quieter, darker. My cock throbbed to life, hard and ready and wanting.
Wanting her.
She turned her head, just glancing behind her but not quite able to hold my gaze.
“Do it.”
I didn’t know what I would do. I could anticipate what she expected, why her face had twisted, and why she remained silent as she slowly leaned forward, her bound hands sliding along the floor, creating a cushion for her forehead as she did as she was told.
I waited, taking her in, slight and frightened and so fucking erotic. I wanted her. I wanted her surrender, her submission, but more than that. I wanted her in a way that was different. Not like the others. Not like the women before—in my former life.
She raised her hips slowly, and I sucked in a breath.
I’d seen her naked. I’d cleaned her. I’d touched her. I’d tasted her. But this, this presenting of herself to me, even if it was under duress, it felt different. And some part of me, it longed for her. Longed to have her. Possess her. Break her and own her.
It longed for this surrender, for her submission, to be real.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, her quiet and obedient, me in some trance, under this strange spell, watching like this was the first woman I’d seen like this.
Wanting like I’d never wanted before. Feeling something almost pure wash over me, at least momentarily, before she sniffled, and I knew she was crying. Quietly crying. Afraid.
No.
Terrified.
Overpowered.
Breaking.
I took a step back, seeing as if for the first time this filthy floor in this filthy room. This terrible place where I would break her, break this beautiful, perfect creature and make her less. I would take everything away from her. That was what I did. What I had done to so many others.
I stumbled backward some more, misstepped, and caught myself.
Pure. I’d felt something pure washing over me. What a joke. What a sick, fucking joke.
I turned on my heel and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind me, locking it, locking her in.
I grabbed my jacket and keys and stalked out of the cabin, breaking my own rule and leaving her behind.
I climbed into my truck and drove through the narrow passage in the woods and out onto the open road.
I didn’t stop at the nearest town like I would have in the past. I didn’t want a woman.
And I didn’t want whiskey. I just wanted to be out of my head.
Out of my skin. I wanted to be someone else.
Anyone else. Because the lowest scum of the earth had to be better than the filth that was me.
Than the aberration that was me. This hateful monster who hurt, who broke, who took beauty that did not belong to him and destroyed it.
She was right. Salvatore had been right.
I was a monster.
I was the worst kind of monster.