18
It’s less than ten o’clock at night when I get home from the spa.
I spent the whole afternoon there. I wanted to clear my head of him and the fact he had stopped trying to reach me.
As a result I just wanted to get closer to him again, but every time I saw his phone number, my hands started shaking with nerves. What if he was angry about the slap?
I open my MacBook, thinking about resuming Friends, but all I find on the screen is my half-finished enrollment for the university. I curse under my breath as I remember that today is my last day to complete it.
Ten minutes later, I receive a PDF document in my email that I have to print out. Then I lazily walk to my father’s office, where the main printer is. Jason broke ours when he tried to photocopy his… I don’t want to remember that. I send the document to the printer and wait for the pages to print.
“My father’s not here,” I murmur immediately, the same lump in my throat now moving to my lower abdomen.
“I didn’t come for that,” he says in a hoarse voice. Maybe he should quit smoking. “I don’t like it when you ignore me, Lena.” The name rolls off his tongue like a warning. My tongue moves on its own, ignoring it.
“And what are you going to do about it?” I raise an eyebrow, testing his limits even further.
When he approaches with his eyes fixed on the gun, I pick it up again and raise it in the air. Discovering that the gun is his only makes me want to keep it even more.
“I won’t give it to you until you give me back the photo you stole from me,” I say, knowing that I’ve just given away the fact that I sneaked into his room. He is now so close that my breath ends up on the tip of his nose.
“You steal my heart and I steal your photos, so be a good girl and give it to me,” he murmurs very close to my ear, then steps back and holds out his hand.
“No,” I reply with determination to forget everything that comes out of his mouth.
I raise my head even higher with a defiant look. The difference in height will only give me a sore neck, but it won’t intimidate me. I gasp as I feel his hand on my neck tighten. My lips in search for the oxygen he is taking away from me.
“Stop being such a spoiled brat.” His index finger brushes my lower lip as he speaks.
Still unable to breathe properly because of his hand blocking my throat, I bite down hard on his finger. I only let go when I can taste his blood on my tongue. A drop of reddish liquid now drips from his finger. He stares at it with raw desire. Then presses his mouth over mine, moving it roughly.
All the moans are stuck in my throat, vibrating against my throat.
That’s probably what drives me mad enough to abandon my body to his mercy.
He releases my neck, replacing his fingers with his lips as he kiss and bite the skin.
I devote myself to touching the hardness of his chest through his black T-shirt.
The gun is now completely forgotten. We pull back to take off our clothes, leaving us naked from the waist up.
He looks at my chest in amazement and I do the same with his, noticing a tattoo on his left pectoral.
They all have a gothic style, reflecting dark elements with lots of detail, but that one is one of the simplest. It’s a fleur-de-lis, like the one on my pendant.
That’s when I realize what a dangerous enigma he is to me.
He puts me on the table and starts nibbling and sucking my nipples.
I open my legs so he can get more comfortable between them.
The hard tent in his pants presses against my sensitive folds through my panties.
We start rubbing against each other desperately.
We might as well be having sex with our clothes on right now.
“The door…” I whisper, my eyes fixed on the doorknob.
He ignores me, continuing to devour my nipples until he pulls away with a hungry look.
My breath catches in my lungs when he picks up the gun and brings it close to my mouth.
He doesn’t have to speak for me to know what he wants me to do.
My panties end up on the floor next to my skirt when he pulls them off.
The barrel slides down my tongue until it is close to my throat.
My eyes water from the pressure. When his fingers begin to stimulate my clitoris, a couple of tears end up sliding down to my chin.
As he pulls out, a string of saliva remains between the gun and my lips, which he quickly attacks with his teeth and tongue.
A moan escapes his throat as he feels the tip of the gun at the edge of my opening.
Then he moves back, spreading my buttocks apart.
Before I can protest, he turns my body over on the desk.
I'm now face down with my arse completely at his disposal. He uses his knee to spread my legs.
That’s when his true intention hits me like a bucket of cold water, and heat begins to run through my veins with a feral desire. My muscles inevitably tense when he rubs my puckered hole with the barrel.
“You have other holes. I won’t use this one now if you don’t want me to,” he says, caressing my inner thigh with his free hand. Now? I shake my head, leaving myself completely at his mercy. Anticipation, curiosity, and desire quickly eliminate my fear.
His only response is to grab my wrists and place my hands under my buttocks, keeping them open for him and giving him perfect access.
“Don’t move.” His voice now thick with desire. I feel him fill my tiny hole with his saliva and the fluids he gathers from my folds as he continues to rub my clit. He moistens me until I’m sure the mixture of his saliva and my fluids has reached the table.
His two fingers push their way in without warning and he begins to move them in and out.
My walls stretch painfully, but soon that pain is overshadowed by pleasure.
He pulls his fingers out and places the barrel over the hole, thrusting into my walls with one stroke.
His hand covers my mouth just in time. My neck stretches slightly.
The gasp doesn’t leave my lips, my vision blurry with tears I can’t hold back.
“Relax,” he says, feeling the tension in my muscles and my attempts to breathe. He then gives me a gentle slap on the left side of my buttocks that makes me jump at the sudden blow.
He caress my buttocks with that same hand while he pulls out the weapon as slowly as his control allows him to.
Then puts it back in, spitting into my puckered hole once more.
His hand fiercely covers my mouth again.
In a matter of minutes that seem like an eternity, the pain disappears.
An immense pleasure taking its place, bringing me to the brink of unconsciousness.
I don’t know if the gun is loaded or not.
My head is too foggy to even focus my eyes.
I know that I trust him enough to leave my life in his hands if it means I can get a little closer to the blue hell of his eyes.
The pressure in my belly is about to burst. He keeps his hand over my mouth, muffling my cry as my insides tremble with a wave of pleasure.
Then he releases my mouth and pulls out the weapon.
My cheeks flush violently as I notice the transparent fluids.
I look away, feeling my body burn when I see him run his tongue over them.
I push him aside and pick up my clothes from the floor, dressing under his scrutinizing, confused gaze.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” I say, fixing my messy hair into a bun once I’m ready.
“Are you still angry?” he asks, tilting his head to one side. He looks like a wounded puppy.
I look over my shoulder and rush to the table to grab the gun before running away, feeling sharp pains in my legs and arse. Back in my room, I close the door and lean against it with a smile on my lips as I think about where to hide the gun.
It doesn’t take me long to sit down at the desk, swallowing a gasp as I put my arse on the chair.
I definitely need to find a comfortable position to sit in these days.
I open my computer and call Grace to tell her what happened, switching the gun for his fingers.
I have to move the phone away from my ear for a second because of her shrill voice.
“Now comes our plan B,” she says from the other end as I continue to inspect the gun without showing it on camera.
There were a couple of bullets inside and the safety wasn’t on.
I turn my body to the left to continue sleeping, but when I touch something with a strange, soft texture. I sit up and rub my eyes until I can see something. I frown in confusion when I see the number of black petals scattered all over the bed. When I move my foot, something falls to the floor.
It’s a black gift bag with something inside.
I get out of bed, knocking some petals onto the floor.
I start walking across the bedroom until I reach the bookshelf.
There I find a plastic bag with books inside.
I open the wrappings, curious to know what kind of books they are.
All of them seem to be poetry books except for one.
The poetry books are three volumes of a thousand pages each.
I pick up the one that stands out from the others and sit down on the sofa, frowning when I see the title and the strange star underneath it.
It is written in one of those ancient languages.
I open the book in the middle. I find a whitish envelope dividing the volume, probably some kind of sweet and twisted dedication from him.
I will ignore for the sake of not being the one reaching for him. Pride can be that awful sometimes.
At two in the afternoon, the two chapters I’ve managed to read get under my skin.
They leave me with a headache and an overwhelming sense of confusion.
Why on earth would he send me this? I knew he is into weird stuff and gets off on depraved things, but him being almost sure that I follow his same insane tendencies and beliefs is what causes chaos in my brain.