11. CHAPTER ELEVEN
“When did you get it done?” Curren asks.
His voice is soft, and I’m thankful that he’s the one to break the silence that’s surrounded us for most of the past four hours.
We showered together; kissed and held each other under the streaming water for way too long, like this is the way we’ve always been.
My hand reaches for his as he skims the tattoo on my ribs. “When I got out of prison.”
Curren lifts his head from my chest. “Prison? When the fuck did yo—“
“Straight from juvie.” I push his head back down to rest against me. “You’d have known that if you hadn’t ignored me.” He tries to sit, but I hold him down. “Don’t think I’m ever gonna stop riding your ass for that… I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life.”
I can feel Curren’s cheek swell against my chest as he smiles. “If you‘ll always fuck me like that, I’d be happy to keep reminding you.”
“What if I don’t wanna do all the fucking?”
This time I let Curren move, and he crawls on top of me. The length of our clean, naked bodies press together until his legs fall off to my sides and he sits up—excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Wanna try it now?”
I drag my hands up through the hairs on his legs. “Dinner will be here soon.”
He takes my right hand and puts it on his dick. “Let them watch.”
Tempting as it is, making someone watch is still sexual assault, and I like my job far too much to lose it. So I crawl the fingers of the other up his chest, over the welted scars stained with ink, to his necklace. “When did you get this done?”
Curren releases my hand and I slide it back to his thigh. Clasping the chain, he tugs the pendant from me and looks down at it. “After my first job.”
“What was it?”
His eyes widen slightly. “Just general, manual shit. Whatever I could pick up.”
“Was it expensive?”
“It wasn’t cheap.”
Reaching out again, I run my thumb over the smooth gold plating that covers the tiny Stormtrooper figurine I’d given him when he was ten. Or maybe I was ten. So many things from back then have blurred together. “If I’d known, I would have done everything I could to find you.”
With his palms against my chest, Curren leans down and whispers, “Same,” against my lips before kissing me.
It’s insane how different it feels to the previous ones. At the park there was so much tension. Then frustration and rage fueled us on. But now, it feels like I’ve never actually been kissed until this exact moment.
Curren's forearm falls to the mattress, and he forces my legs apart with his own only to straddle one of them.
Unable to resist, I grope his ass then still my hand so I can feel the tense and release of his muscles as he rides my thigh.
I have so many questions I still want to ask. Was he ever married—fuck, is he married now? Does he have any kids? What does he do for work that can afford him a five thousand pound suit? But… Do I really need to know the answers?
For right now, while we’re here, will they change anything?
I don’t care if it’s selfish.
I don’t care if it sets me back on my road to being the hero I’ve always wanted to be. Because in this suite, for as long as I have him, past and future don’t mean a damn thing.
I can feel Curren’s fingers running back and forth over my velvet short hair. Then he grips against my scalp as he drags himself back up.
“Do you have a family?” he asks out of the blue.
“Are you reading my mind?”
His arms wrap behind my neck so he can grind his dick against mine, almost like he thinks the distraction will make me more honest. “Do you have someone waiting for you?”
“I don’t have anyone, anywhere.”
Curren’s breath is shaky, but I can feel his whole body relax.
Clinging to his torso, I drive my hips upward. My cock slips between his inner thigh and mine, and I dig my fingers into his back. “You better not have someone.”
“And what if I do?”
“Then you’ll call them and let them know you aren’t coming home,” I tell him, and he mewls like a fucking animal.
I toss him to my side and pounce on top of him. Then I force his legs apart and hold them up by his side with my forearms behind his knees. “You belong to me. You’ve never been anyone else’s.”
Lifting his head to meet me, he laps at my lips then lets his head fall back to the mattress.
“I thought you weren’t a puppy.”
He smirks up at me. “I’m not… I’m yours. ”
Cheeky.
“I thought you weren’t a brat, either.”
“I’m not… But I do like seeing you mad."
"I wasn't mad… But I did like how pretty you begged."
"That was a one off."
"I don't believe that for one second."
"Fine. If you're not gonna believe me—" Curren tries to push me off of him but I pin his hands above his head and lock his legs in place with my own. "Are you gonna pull this shit every time you don't get your own way?"
I smirk down at him. "I thought you wanted me to punish you?"
"And I thought you wanted to be fucked?"
The thought overwhelms me, and I find myself digging my nails into his wrists. "And I thought I told you dinner was almost here?"
"You're struggling with this, aren't you?"
"I'm not struggling with anything, Curren. I'm exactly where I wanna be."
"I don't think you are. I think you'd rather be pinned down but you can't do it willingly because it'll make you look weak."
"Being submissive doesn't make you—"
"Oh, I know. The bruises I gave you prove that." A sly smile overtakes Curren's face when my traitorous dick flinches. "Do you want me to fight you for it? Do you want me to beat you into submission?"
I exhale, “Fucking hell,” and release his hands to cup his cheeks where I can feel the swollen flesh beneath the black eye I gave him earlier.
“Do you like that idea?”
"God, yes."
"So why did you let go?"
“Because…” I pause, getting ahead of myself. "It's more complicated than that."
"Does it have to be?"
I nod my forehead against his. "I need something I know you won't understand."
"Do you want me to take control away from you?"
"Yes."
"So let me."
"Only if…" I whisper against him, my head swimming.
"What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to scare me… Don't give me any other choice but to…" Curren's hands glide up my arms until his fingers are wrapping tentatively around my neck. "No. Not your hands… Not yet."
"So what should I use?"
"Your belt." The words are abhorrent. They make me a traitor of our pain and everything we've gone through, but it feels so good to say them.
"The hell?"
“I know it's fucked, but—"
Before the sentence is even through, Curren's lifting me off of him. “You’re disgusting.”
“I know.“
“I'm not doing it.”
"You just said you would."
"No, I…" Curren pushes me until I’m sitting back on my heels and he’s kneeling up in front of me. His hand runs over my head and down to hold me firmly by the back of the neck. “You know how sick that is, right?”
For us, it's more than sick.
"I told you it was complicated."
"But you didn't say it was psychopa—"
"I'm not a psychopath."
Curren slaps me so hard I fall to my side. “Don’t interrupt me!”
I’m so fucked in the head.
I'm perverted, and utterly disgusting.
He can do what he wants.
Use his knife.
Cut me.
Carve KILL ME TOO on my chest so we match forever.
Punch me, choke me, bring me to the verge of death over and over until he’s had his fill of using me.
Knock. Knock. “Room service.”
My eyes shoot towards the door, then back to Curren.
“You gonna get that?”
He can’t be serious.
“Answer the fucking door!” The sole of his foot jabs at my shoulder and I tumble to the floor.
“Curren, I’m not—“
I’m cut off by the way his eyes dart towards the desk. To where my gun is.
I go to move, but as soon as I look towards my Glock, he stands, and I freeze.
He’s like a goddamn monster, towering over me. Graffitied like the side of a building. Naked, with gloved hands and a hard dick.
Without looking away from me, he walks to the desk and picks up the pistol. I see him run his finger over the Glock's barrel indicator like he's done it a thousand times before. Then he points it straight at me.
"You wanna be scared. I'll show you fucking scared." He’s calm and menacing. “Answer the door, Jude.”
I stare down the barrel of my own gun, at his finger on the trigger, and how steady it is in his hand.
I stand, and face him.
He jerks his chin towards the door. “Turn around.”
Once I’m facing away from him, I hear his footsteps against the rug until he’s pressing the gun into my back. “Walk.”
“Room service,” the voice calls again, and Curren jabs the pistol deeper.
“Tell her you’re coming.”
I comply.
“Now crack the door, tell her you’ve been in the shower, and you want her to bring it in.”
Reaching for the chain, it shakes in my hand as I unlatch the door and turn the handle. Opening it just enough to poke my head out, I hide behind it as Curren shifts to my side.
I plaster on a smile.
“Good evening.” I check her name badge. “Reagan. I’ve just gotten out of the shower and I’m not decent yet. Would you mind waiting a minute before bringing it in?”
“Ah, sure. No worries. I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”
“It’s not a problem at all. I just need to go… finish up.”
“Of course, sir.” She nods and takes a step back.
“What have you got to finish up, Jude?”
Whipping around to him, I’m met with the gun pointing right between my eyes.
“Get in the closet,” he orders, and when I don’t move, he presses the barrel against my forehead. “I don’t think you understand what I’m capable of doing.”
He drags the gun down my face to my slightly parted lips, then pressure forces them to open further. The black polymer clinks against my teeth. The barrel is heavy on my tongue. And the tip is sharp against the back of my throat.
“What's it gonna be, Jude?”
I have to force my arms to stay by my side and repress all my years of training.
“Are you gonna do as I say, or do you want me to use the gun in a way you really won’t like?”
Slow as I can, I raise my hands in surrender.