Chapter 36
Lauren
I woke up minutes ago, but I refuse to open my eyes.
I don’t want to risk that last night was a nightmare.
What happened was the nightmare. I fucking loved it. I can feel his abuse all over my body. I throb from head to toe.
But what if none of it is real?
I know it physically happened, but the thought of what he said being another manipulation? I don’t know if I can handle it.
I shove down those familiar thoughts I always get when things go my way or I get things I want.
He used the word deserve last night. He said you deserve the pain you get.
He didn’t say it in a way to hurt me. It was him saying that it’s okay to want what I want. That I shouldn’t feel ashamed for needing the things so few are capable of providing.
It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.
And even as I lie here, refusing to open my eyes, I want to believe him.
I’m a fan of being manipulated, of being surprised. Disappointment is sort of a kink for me as well, but I don’t think I’d survive if I discovered he didn’t mean it, that it was one more sick way to cause me pain.
Those are heart matters, the promise of keeping me. They have the power to fucking destroy me more than anything physical ever could.
Knowing I can’t put the truth off any longer, I let my eyes flutter open.
The room is different than it was when I was here before. Rather than the curtains being drawn, they’re open, along with the blinds, allowing sunlight to flow into the room.
The furniture is nothing spectacular—a bed, a dresser, a side table, but none of the shadows that were lurking around remain.
My throat threatens to close at the sight of the cold Diet Mt. Dew sitting beside a couple pain killers on the bedside table. I don’t recall ever telling him I loved the drink, but I’m also not surprised to see it sitting there.
I groan with discomfort as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed before reaching for the drink.
The cap is sealed which is a little disappointing because it means he’s not going to drug me.
It also means I’m going to have to face him with all my faculties. For a flash, I think I’d rather chew broken glass, but I know we have to face each other.
But then I swallow, wondering if he’s going to be gone again.
He swore he’d chase me to the ends of the earth, but I imagine he’d say anything when he was eight inches deep inside of me.
I pop the pills, taking a long swig of the soda before noise somewhere else in the house grabs my attention.
I’m torn between wanting to avoid him and wanting to run to him and beg him to tell me that what he said was true.
With a sigh, I stand and slowly peel away the ripped clothes from my body. In an effort to annoy him because his room is pristine, I leave them in a pile on the floor. If he thinks I’m going to obey him or do what he wants, he’s sadly mistaken.
The threat of him correcting my sloppiness sets my skin on fire as I open the bedroom door.
The scent of maple bacon wraps around me as I creep toward the kitchen. He doesn’t have music playing or the television on like any other normal person would. He doesn’t stiffen or show any other indication that he knows I’m close, but I’m not convinced that he isn’t well aware of my presence.
“I was wondering if you were going to get your sweet ass out of bed or if I was going to have to eat it all myself.”
I try to hide the smile sweeping across my face, but it’s impossible.
“I didn’t realize you were such a pussy.”
He turns a little, looking at me over his shoulder. His eyes sweep the naked length of me, and it takes a lot of power not to preen at his perusal. There’s no denying the need that flashes in his eyes, and it’s almost strong enough to make me clench my thighs together.
I point to his boxer briefs when he doesn’t say anything. “Afraid of getting a little bacon grease on your dick?”
His grin is quick, a little sinister, as he looks from the pan and back to me.
I have a sudden urge to run as tears burn behind my eyes.
He fucking notices because the man is an expert at reading people. He turns off the burner, moving the pan to the back of the stove before prowling toward me.
His hand is behind my head before I can decide on my next course of action.
“I’m going to hurt you, Lauren. I’m going to fuck you so hard some days, so long that even your begging won’t make me stop because that’s what I’m going to need from you.”
I nod, my throat thick with emotions.
“I would never cause you that kind of pain.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe him.
“I will bite you, whip you, draw blood on your skin. I’m a sinister motherfucker, but I’d never pour hot fucking grease on you.”
I’m shaking at this point, the fear from thinking he could do something like that mixing with the realization that the man can practically read my mind. It’s exactly what I thought, and as much as I’ve been hurt, burns are the worst.
“Understand?”
I open my eyes to find him watching me. He has to shake me by the grip he has on the back of my neck before I answer.
“Yes.”
He leans in closer.
“If you fucking kiss me, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
A wide grin curls his lips up. “There’s my girl. Now, how do you like your eggs?”
“Fried,” I answer before thinking, as if I’m being asked for my order in a restaurant.
His grin grows wider. “Scrambled it is.”
I watch his gorgeous ass as he walks back to the stove, his back muscles rippling under his tan skin.
“I’m going to sit you in my lap while we eat. Just telling you so you can decide if you’re going to let it happen or if I need to tie you up.”
His eyes are dark and promising when he looks back at me again.
I still haven’t made up my mind as he puts all the food on one plate before walking across the room and patting his lap after sitting in the only chair at the very small kitchenette.
“Is this because you only have one chair?” I ask as I cross the room.
Other than when he’s fucking me, I think this is possibly the most we’ve really spoken, and I’m feeding off this attention from him.
“And I don’t plan to get another one,” he confirms, pulling me back further against his chest when I try to sit on one knee.
I wiggle on his lap, the only way I can think to rile him up.
He grunts, and I try to hide my smile and fail.
“Maybe I should get naked for this,” he says, but instead of shoving his underwear down, he picks up his fork and stabs at the less than fluffy eggs on the plate.
He holds the fork to my lips, but when I open my mouth to tell him I’m not a baby, he shoves the fork inside before I can get the words out. I turn my head and stare at him as I chew.
“I don’t have many hard limits, Lauren, but if you spit food in my face, you will not like the results, and that’s not a promise of giving you what you say you don’t want but actually do. Don’t fucking test me on this.”
“I’ll never ask you for anything,” I say after swallowing.
He smiles around his own bite of food, smacking my hand when I reach for a piece of bacon.
I have to wait for him to put the fork down and lift the meat to my mouth, and I hate it as much as it thrills me.
I’m actually paying attention to him, something I couldn’t do when he fed me before when I was tied up because I was starving.
His eyes flash with his version of happiness which is a mere step under irritation as I chew.
“Does that mean you’ll never beg me again?”
“I won’t,” I vow just as another piece of bacon meets my lips.
He swipes his thumb roughly on the grease left behind, and I squirm in his lap when he moans as he sucks it clean.
His hand drops to my thigh.
“I know I can make you beg.”
“Maybe I’ll just take what I want instead of asking?”
A slow smile spreads across his face, and goddamn this man is just too fucking good looking.
“Yeah?”
I nod.
“You think you’re powerful enough?”
I shrug. I know better than to challenge him.
I slip my hand between my legs, grazing my clit as I reach further down. His cock is right there. It’s been pressing against me since the second he pulled me onto his lap.
“Still hungry?” he asks as I grip his length. I think he may have been right about doing this while we were both naked.
I think sitting on his cock while he feeds me might make the way he’s watching my face a little more bearable. I hate feeling so open and exposed, and I know it has absolutely nothing to do with my lack of clothing.
He reads me too easily. I’ve always prided myself in being able to lie so convincingly.
Maybe that’s his appeal, the fact that he’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.
“You think you can just take that?”
I bite my lip, looking down to watch my hand work him over between my thighs.
I squeal when he lifts me, forcing me to straddle him as if I weigh nothing.
“We aren’t the same, Lauren,” he says, his fingers pinching my nipple hard enough for me to cry out in pain before he wraps those perfect fingers around my throat. “This isn’t tit for tat. What I do to you does not on any level give you the right to do them in return.”
With his free hand, he pulls down the front of his boxers, and my body fucking sings, my head getting a little light from his grip on me.
“Roll up then sit,” he commands.
I want to argue, to draw this out, but my body obeys before I can convince it otherwise.
I groan as he slips inside me, taking a little pride in the way his mouth falls open an inch.
He feels it. Without even having to voice his truth, I know he can sense this fucking connection between the two of us.
It’s fucking electric.
“This isn’t the perfect position for knocking you up, but I’ll just keep my cock in you for an hour.”
I try to scramble away. Joking about breeding me is hot. Actually getting pregnant would be catastrophic. There’s no chance I could ever be anyone’s mother. I’m too fucked up. Hell, he’s too fucked up.
I know with him giving me exactly what I need, I don’t think I’m going to go out and find trouble, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stick around.
Everything ends, and I can’t let myself think that isn’t going to come crashing down as well. A kid is fucking permanent, and my past is way too fucked up to think I’d be any good at it. I’ve got no interest in continuing that vicious fucking cycle.
“Stand up,” he demands but grips my hip the second my feet hit the floor. He pins me there, holding me in place by his grip on my throat as he fucks upward, spearing me.
Jesus, it feels so good.
I refuse to think of the limited pain, and it’s almost impossible to reconcile enjoying this as much as I enjoy when he fucks me with his teeth imbedded in my skin.
“Fucking perfection,” he pants, his eyes locked on his pistoning cock.
I try to pull away, still unable to accept that I bring him pleasure, that what he does to me is more than a power play.
The man left me my favorite soda on the bedside table, a very sweet gesture, but I can’t imagine him actually enjoying what he does to me outside of the pain he inflicts.
It’s clear I have a long way to go.
“I’m hoping for a boy. I’m going to teach him everything I know.”
I claw at him then, my fingernails digging into the skin on his arms.
That familiar sinister smile is in place when he looks up at me again.
We lock eyes just as his cock kicks inside of me, and before I can pull away, he sits me back on his lap, impaled on his cock.
I struggle for fifteen minutes before he finally lets me get away.