Chapter Twelve #3
"That's my girl," he snarls, and then he's dragging me to the desk, slamming me down onto the cleared surface.
He's inside me in a single, brutal thrust, stretching me wide, filling me to the point of pain. The angle is obscene—my ass hanging off the desk, my heels digging into his ribs, one of his hands around my throat.
He pounds into me, hard enough to make the desk rattle. I claw at his arms, his chest, his face, anything I can reach. I bite his shoulder, leaving a mark. When that doesn't slow him, I rake my nails down his neck, drawing blood.
He likes it.
He fucks me harder, his other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so he can watch my face.
"You want them to see this, don't you?" he grinds out. "You want the whole fucking city to see how you look after you've been ruined."
He slaps my cheek, not hard, just enough to sting, and the humiliation makes me wetter.
"You're disgusting," I gasp, even as my hips rock up to meet him.
"Say it again," he commands, thrusting harder.
"You're disgusting—fuck—fucking animal—" I can't even finish, because I'm coming, my whole body seizing, my inner walls milking his cock like this is the only thing I was made for.
He doesn't stop.
He fucks me through the orgasm until I'm limp on the desk, sobbing in ecstasy.
He fists my hair, yanking my head up so I have to watch our reflection in the glass. I see his face. His eyes are wild, his lips bloodied from my bite, and his jaw set with absolute determination.
I see my own, too—lips parted, eyes glazed, hair wild, a girl completely undone.
He wraps his arm around my neck, not tight enough to choke, just enough to keep me in place while he fucks me raw.
"Come again," he orders.
I do. God, I do. The orgasm rips through me so hard I scream, the sound echoing off the walls.
He follows me over with a savage grunt, spilling deep inside me, his grip on my throat never letting up.
When he finally lets go, I collapse onto the desk, my hair a sweaty snarl, my makeup smeared. I don't even try to move.
He pulls out, zips up, and steps away, breathing hard.
For a long time, neither of us speaks.
When I finally find my voice, it's a croak.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ask, not really expecting an answer.
I'm not sure he has an answer, honestly.
I don't think he has a clue how to navigate his own goddamn complicated feelings, so he resorts to this, hiding behind the fucking monster that wants to own and destroy because it's easier than admitting that he's jealous as hell and terrified he'll lose me.
He leans over me, palms flat on either side of my head, his sweat dripping onto my skin. "You belong to me," he says again, like a prayer this time. "You don't fuck anyone else. You don't even fucking look at them."
I twist, roll onto my side, and glare up at him through the strands of hair stuck to my cheek. "But you can fuck whoever you want, right? Is that how this works? I'm your obedient little toy while you do whatever the fuck you want?"
He laughs, actually laughs, the feral sound shaking his whole body. "You really don't get it, do you?"
I sit up, yanking my ruined blouse together. "Get what? What's so fucking funny, Asher?"
He looks at me, and for the first time, I see real pain in his eyes.
"The fact that you think I'd touch another woman, Brielle.
There hasn't been one since before I met you.
" He pauses, searching my face. "I wanted you long before I should have, so much so that no one else even fucking exists to me.
I'll belong to you until the day I die, even if I did fuck it all up a long goddamn time ago. "
"Wha…"
He turns, grabs his jacket, and stalks out of the office, leaving me half-naked and shaking on the desk, my mind spinning.
I sit there for a long time, trying to catch my breath, trying to understand him and why he's so fucking complicated. Why does he think he fucked it up a long time ago? Is it the accident, or something else?
Eventually, I slide off the desk, gather my ruined clothes, and patch myself together as best I can.
There are bruises on my thighs, scratches down my arms, and a perfect set of teeth marks on my collarbone.
If the whole office doesn't already know what we're doing in his office every day, they will when they see me.
I should be furious about that. Instead, I feel alive, like the world just snapped into focus. In a way, it did. All this time, he's wanted me so much that he hasn't touched another woman since we met.
And I want him the same damn way.
I leave the office as soon as everyone goes to lunch. Mina drives me home, not asking a single question. Thank God, because there's no explaining. There really isn't. But I'd rather her see me like this than everyone on the subway.
"Are you okay?" she asks when I start to slide from her car outside my building.
"Yeah." I clear my throat and nod. "I'm good."
"Did he…do you…?" She trails off with her lip caught between her teeth, her expression rife with anxiety.
"I wanted every single second of it," I mutter, already knowing what she's trying to ask.
I'd laugh if it weren't so fucking sad. But there's nothing funny about it, not really.
Asher may hurt me, but never when he's inside me.
Every bruise, every bite, every brutal moment is a kind of perfect I can't even explain.
Even if I tried, I doubt a nice girl like Mina would understand that sometimes pain is the best kind of pleasure.
Sometimes, it's the only kind that matters. "I always want it."
"Oh." She gulps. "Okay then."
I hesitate with my hand on the handle. "Please don't say anything," I whisper, the first time I've ever asked anything of anyone. I never let myself get close enough to need favors. But…I need this one.
What's between me and Asher is no one else's business. I'm sure the whole world will know far more than they should soon enough anyway. But even if he is a monster, I don't want them to judge him for it. I'm the only one who gets to measure his worth against the weight of a feather.
She nods. "I won't."
"Thank you."
I go straight to bed when I get upstairs, too exhausted to pretend I'm not a fucking wreck. It's not even what we did that's wrecking me, either. It's what he said and the meaning behind the words. They keep playing in my head like a fucking song.
He hasn't been with anyone else since he met me. For six years, he's been…what? Waiting for me? Dreaming about me? Neither word seems quite big enough to hold the monumentality of his confession.
I half expect him to call and demand that I come back to work, but my phone sits on the nightstand, mocking me. I stare at the ceiling, trying to hate him for making me feel this way, but it doesn't stick. It never does.
That's always been the problem. No matter how hard I hate him or how much I try to convince myself that he's a monster undeserving of love, it never fucking sticks.
As soon as I see him again, all that work just…
unravels, and I'm right back where I started: wanting something that may very well destroy me.
Around three, I call Liam, because I need to talk to someone before I go crazy.
He picks up on the third ring, wind in the background. "Hey, kid," he says. "Why are you calling in the middle of the workday? Is something wrong?"
"No," I lie. "I took the afternoon off. I just wanted to check on you. How's life on set?"
He gives me the highlights—a tantrum from the lead, a broken camera lens, a location change because the city's being difficult. The same chaos as always. I let his words roll over me, not really listening, just letting the familiar cadence scrape some of the confusion out of my brain.
After a few minutes, he clears his throat. "You okay, Brie?"
"Yeah," I lie again, and then bite my lip. "Asher had a meeting with Miles Andrews this morning. It didn't go well."
Liam laughs, like he isn't surprised at all. "Let me guess, Miles hit on you?"
"Something like that," I whisper.
"I'm not surprised. He saw your photo on our last movie. He was interested."
"Well, he isn't now."
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse." I pause. "Why is Asher so fucking difficult?"
There's a pause. "Because he's an unrepentant control freak who hates anyone getting too close. You know this."
I chew on my bruised bottom lip, picking at a thread on the bedspread. "Was he always like that?"
Liam snorts. "No. He used to be worse."
I snort, which almost sounds like a laugh.
"Nah, I'm kidding. He was human once, before he took over the business. Before the accident." Liam's tone softens. "He cares about you."
My heart skips a beat. "He cares about being in control," I say, trying to will myself into believing that's all this is to him. "Not about me."
"You're wrong," Liam says, his voice firm and certain. "He's obsessed with you."
I freeze. "What?"
"Don't play dumb, Brie. It's always been you.
Even back when you were too fucking young for him, he followed you around like a fucking shadow.
" Liam is breathing harder, like he isn't thrilled about any of this.
"He never brings women home, you know that?
The ones he takes to parties are just for the cameras.
Half the time, he pays them to show up and make him look less like… whatever he is."
My mind is racing. Hearing Asher say it was one thing, but having Liam confirm it is something else altogether. It's terrifying. "He's just…doing you a favor, that's all."
"I stopped asking him to look out for you a long time ago. He does it because he loves you, the only way he knows how to love, at least."
I swallow hard, my heart pounding like a war drum against my breastbone. "Did he tell you that?"
"Hell no. Ash doesn't talk about his feelings," he says. "If you want to know where his head is at, you have to read the fucking tea leaves. But you're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."
I want to. I really do. But the only thing I feel right now is the ache where Asher should be.
"One of the junior agents told me…" I hesitate, not sure how to broach the subject. "Am I the reason the two of you argue?"
"Among other things," Liam sighs.
"You never told me."
"Never figured it mattered. You've always sworn you hated him.
I decided a long goddamn time ago to let you two figure it out on your own, but you're my sister.
Yeah, we argue. Every fucking time he's an asshole to you, we argue.
" Liam sounds tired, like he might as well argue with a brick wall than argue with Asher.
"I don't hate him."
"Oh, I'm well aware," he says dryly. "Only someone you love could make you feel that kind of rage, but you're just as stubborn as he is. You always have been. You two fight because neither of you are ready to admit how you really feel."
"What should I do?" I whisper, clutching the phone tight. I need him to tell me, because I honestly don't know. All I know is that fighting him is the worst part.
"He's the one you should be having this conversation with, baby sister, not me."
"You suck." I swallow at the prospect of even trying to have this conversation with Asher. I'm not sure I'll survive it, not after today, not after realizing just how unhinged he can be when it comes to me.
"You love me anyway."
"I guess so," I grumble, making him laugh. "I'll call you later."
"Love you." Liam disconnects, leaving me alone with my thoughts all over again.
They're even louder this time, and somehow, impossibly, more terrifying.
Maybe because I admitted how I felt about him once, and look where it led.
I don't think I've ever been able to separate my confession from what came after, like one caused the other.
Just like I've never been able to really admit that it wasn't the accident that made me hate him.
It was the way he rejected me. It was hearing him say that he didn't love me.
Even now, those words still ring in my ears. They way they made me feel still haunts and taunts me. I'm not brave enough to face hearing it again.
Maybe that's why it's so damn hard to believe that he actually loves me. Because if I let myself believe it, if I let down my guard for even a second, he might actually break me again. And, just like then, it'll be my fault for allowing it to happen.
Loving him in secret is easy. No one has to know that I've never stopped.
But loving him out loud? Actually letting him in?
Well, that means being real, in a way I haven't been in a long, long time.
And there is nothing more terrifying than being that real with the one person who knows the shape of you ruin.
My phone rings, shattering the silence. I nearly drop it when I see Asher's name on the screen.
I answer on the first ring, my voice a little breathless. "Hello?"
He doesn't bother with greetings. "I'll pick you up in an hour. We have an event. Be ready, and pack a bag."
There's no please. No hello. No apology for humiliating me, ruining me, annihilating my carefully constructed reality, and then walking out. There's nothing but that single command.
"Okay," I say anyway because I've never been able to tell him no. Not because I agreed to be his little plaything. Not because I need his money. But because he's a piece of me, beating beneath my skin in place of my heart.
He hangs up before I can say anything else.
I stare at my phone for a long time, wondering if Liam is right. Wondering if this is what love looks like when the one who loves you is a monster.
Maybe, for people like us, this is precisely what it looks like. It hurts because that's all we know how to do. Because that's the only way we know we're still alive.