Chapter 11 #2
"Stop lying to yourself," I say calmly. Maybe this way it’ll finally get through that thick skull of hers. I’m not trying to come off as angry this time.
I know some people don't react well to stress, and she’s one of them.
"First off, I’ve got everything under control.
You don't need to worry about the contract. And as for me, making you a killer, maybe with Nick, sure, I put the knife in your hand, and I made you use it. But the detective? It was all you. This isn't something I could’ve created, not in the three real days we spent together back then. This comes from inside you, no matter how badly you want to deny it." I keep my eyes on her, hoping she’ll finally see the truth. "That doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a survivor. It makes you strong. It shows who you really are. Besides, things aren’t always what they seem. Just think about how much damage Nick caused. How easily he would’ve ended your life to save his. How easily he could’ve done it again to someone else.
And the detective… did you see the list of names I carved on him?
How many more would’ve followed if we hadn’t ended him back then?
You only see the parts you want to, but sometimes it takes strength to end a greater evil.
I hope you get that some day. But the more you push me away, the more certain I am, you never will. "
I might be a monster, but I'm not trying to make her one. I'm just trying to make her strong enough to fight her own monsters.
I leave her in the living room to think about what I said while I go to shower and change. I've been in the same clothes for a day, and it's beginning to wear on me. This and everything else that's been going on in my life since I found her in Italy.
I barely recognize myself anymore. A few months ago, if I had been running for a whole day to save her life, and I were coming home to this, it would’ve been the beginning of a new apocalypse.
But now… now I have to try a different approach.
I don’t know if it’ll work. I'm not sure if I'll be able to see it through to the end, but I'm running out of options with her.
Getting angry isn't a solution, or a punishment that would hit hard enough. I have a more efficient way to teach her a lesson. And I'm putting it to use—effective immediately.
I head back to the living room for my phone charger since the one in my bedroom’s missing—Serena's doing, of course.
I don't plan on sticking around there with her, especially not when I know she’ll say something that will eventually trigger me and will probably lead to a massive fight.
And I’m enough of a monster as it is—without the fight.
Besides, I haven't checked on my other businesses for a couple of days, and I need peace and quiet to get through the reports that are stacking up in my emails.
She’s still on the couch when I return, but with a much more docile look on her face.
I ignore her. I'm actually halfway out of the living room, heading to my home office, when I hear her calling out my name.
"Set," she whispers, her voice slightly trembling—just enough to fuck up my entire existence, and definitely my plans for the rest of today.
"What?" I ask, turning just in time to see her walking my way.
Her face is flushed, her eyes staring at the floor instead of me. "I... I think I need time." She pauses, like she's having trouble finding her words.
"I think you took enough time." I arch a brow, reminding her she's been gone for three fucking months.
But I instantly see her trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "Please don't go there. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left. We had a deal."
"The deal wasn't the reason you shouldn't have left." I take a long pause, letting my words hang between us. I should’ve been the reason she stayed. ME.
"I left because I have trouble accepting this. Accepting myself."
"So I've noticed." It's not me she's rejecting. It's herself. All the more reason to put my plan into action.
"It's hard dealing with everything that's been happening lately. I'm struggling with it. Struggling to figure out how to deal with this new life. And-" She suddenly stops, like she just realized she was about to say something stupid.
But I push her. I need to get her out of her comfort zone. "And...?"
"And you wanting me to be afraid of you doesn't make things easier," she says, walking past me and heading down the hallway that leads to the bedroom.
This woman keeps toying with my nerves, constantly turning her back on me.
Not. This. Time.
Without even realizing what I'm doing, I follow her, catching up just as she reaches the bedroom door.
She doesn't even get to touch the door knob before I grab the back of her neck, stopping her in her place.
"I don't want you to fear me. But I do want some fucking respect. I deserve some fucking respect. Don’t ever turn your back on me again," I growl, trying not to lose focus on what I intend to do to her.
It would be so easy to let myself go, and her shallow breath makes it all the more difficult.
"I'll show you what happens when you turn your back on me," I whisper against her neck, inches away from where my hand is resting—then tear the material of her oversized T-shirt all the way down.
Her whole back is exposed, except for the thin line of her panties.
And fuck, after the day I've had, I needed this view more than I imagined.
The only problem is, now I can't stop myself. I fucking taste her without wasting another second, letting my tongue trail down her spine, tracing a very long, thorough line down to her tailbone. And since I did say I’ll take action for her turning my back on me, my palm lands hard on one of her ass cheeks.
A gasp breaks through her lungs, and I hear her breath turn shaky, trying to deal with the pain, as her flesh turns red, outlining the beautiful imprint of my fingers.
I’d never hurt her willingly. Any pain I give is only meant to bring extreme pleasure. So my mouth follows, merging with the prints I left on her skin.
This time, she lets out another sound. It's a moan as she feels the wetness of my tongue coating her abused skin. And since I’ve got her moaning, I go for a repeat with her other cheek.
This time her moan is louder, like a fucking invitation, urging me not to stop.
My palms find the marks I left on her skin, and I spread her open.
As she arches just a little, I can see the amazing outline of her pussy glancing at me through those thin panties, teasing me, asking me to claim her.
And I just want to take a bite. My teeth sink into her soft flesh, grazing the fabric of her panties, then I slowly—and I do mean slowly—go up the valley between her cheeks, brushing my tongue half over the fabric, half over her delicious skin.
And I repeat that over and over until I can see her toes curling against the floor, asking for more.
But I decide that's enough taunting for now, especially since she's in for a lesson, and not for a good time.
Last time taught me how sensitive she is about being edged, and how fast she comes to her senses when I go for that strategy.
So, I stand and wait for her to make the next move, even nudging her to take it.
"Leave, if you don't want to get truly punished.
" I give her a fair warning. Given her attitude so far, odds are she’ll take the out, and walk.
But Serena’s a walking, breathing contradiction, torn between what she thinks and what she feels, and every gesture of hers is determined by which one of those parts wins.
I fully intend to get her to make up her mind.
And by the looks of things, I'm one step closer to that. Her whole body’s a trembling mess.
Even her gaze seems to indicate she doesn't know how to keep herself under control anymore.
I recognize that look anywhere because lately, I've been having trouble doing it myself around her.
With a short movement, she makes her T-shirt roll up and over her arms down to her elbows, leaving her full breasts exposed all for me.
I guess that's my answer, and it couldn't have played out better if I’d scripted it myself.
I don’t move, giving her that strange pause where she’s caught between instinct and realization, just long enough for her to understand what she’s willingly done.
My face doesn't betray any kind of emotion. I don't allow it either, especially not now that I have to keep my best poker face in play. This is a hand I don’t intend to lose.
I stare her down, like I'm expecting her to say something, apologize, beg, or maybe even curse me.
And when she doesn't, I bring my hand to one of her breasts, my thumb rolling slowly over her nipple.
I don't take my eyes off her during this time, and I notice that despite the slight embarrassment coloring her cheeks, there’s also need hiding in those blue eyes.
I give it a few more seconds as her skin prickles at the dirty thoughts running through her mind. She's so fucking needy, I feel it pushing me right over the edge of sanity, and without being able to help myself anymore, I lean in, taking one of her delicate tips in my mouth.
Like she’d been waiting for me all along, her arms wrap around my neck without hesitation.
I wasn't prepared for that welcome, but it’ll make everything much easier for me.
I suck and gently bite on the hardened flesh at the same time as I run my thumb over her panties, right against her clit. And I feel her fingernails beginning to dig into my flesh, telling me all I need to know.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're enjoying this," I taunt, but before she gets to react, I bite harder until her nipples turn slightly purplish, wearing my marks. I’ll make her wear my marks all over her body. I want her covered in my bites, my blood, and my fucking cum.