The only belief I have about Tobias at this point is that we’re a treacherous mistake.
He stares at me with expectancy to answer his question, and I give him the same damning silence he and his brothers have given me countless times before.
“Do you still believe they’re coming for you?”
He flips me with his hand, smoothly turning me from back to front for better access, running his knuckles along the side of my breast, his eyes lingering on my skin before they lift to mine. “Or is it because you wait for me?”
“I despise you.”
“That means nothing. You could have gone anywhere. Instead, you chose to prowl around the bar I own to try and make your point.”
“You may have taken a great interest in learning everything about me, but I assure you, I couldn’t give a shit less about you, who you fucked at your junior prom, or what bars you own. Nor do I care about the psychology behind why you act the way you do.”
He stops his hand and raises his brows in mild surprise.
“Someone’s in a mood.”
“Blame it on the hormones rather than the backbone. I guess that’s easier for a sexist like you to believe.”
“Pussy wielding predator,” he chuckles darkly. “I have to admit, I almost laughed.” He’s had more than one drink, and I assume it’s the excuse he’s allowed himself to be here.
“That’s not who I am, as you well know, but feel free to make all the assumptions you want about me.”
He sets the rocks glass down and leans forward, his nose running along my collarbone. “Have you been smoking weed?”
Daily.
“Who would have thought?” He chuckles, ghosting his lips along my jaw. My nipples spike to life as I try not to inhale his scent. I don’t want to be wet. I don’t want to react. “And what message were you trying to send?”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“Did you think I would come for you? Stake my claim?”
“I wasn’t thinking about you.”
“I don’t have to give chase. I have you.”
“You’ll never have me. Not in the way they did.”
His eyes flare and I grip his hand just as he snaps the strap of my dress.
“I just bought this, you bastard.”
He doesn’t so much as flinch as I sink my fingernails into the flesh of his hand while he lowers the fabric to cup my breasts.
“Under my fat thumb,” he muses, lifting the bodice before he slides his thumb along my stomach, and down, past my pelvic bone and through the thin smattering of hair, inching lower before pressing it against my clit.
“You hate me,” he presses harder and I wince, releasing his hand before he licks the pad of it and resumes his touch, massaging me in dizzying circles. “I have some hate for you, as well,” he exhales a gin-infused breath. “But you’ve given me a sort of gift. I never imagined I’d be here under his roof, touching what he treasures.”
He pauses his movement when I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “You’re sadly mistaken if you think I’m anything close to his treasure. He’s incapable of feeling anything. Just like you.” Instinctively, I buck my hips against his touch and close my eyes. “Why just months ago, Daddy told me he didn’t love me over lamb chops.”
His finger stops altogether, and he withdraws it.
I open my eyes to see him staring raptly. I tilt my head, nothing but malice in my voice when I speak. “Don’t act so surprised, I told you his only child is his company. Did you think I was bluffing? That inheritance he’s granting me is a payoff. A payoff for every recital he missed, for every father-daughter dance he avoided, for every Christmas morning he skipped, for his absence.” I pull his hand back to my center, spreading my legs wider to grant access. “My mother put together my first bike, built me my treehouse. My mother did those things. So, like I told you, I’m here to collect, for her. Unlike you, every word I breathe isn’t a lie.”
I might as well have slapped him, judging from the look on his face. He earns a lazy smile from me due to my victory. “You really didn’t think a monster like Roman Horner is capable of a pesky emotion like love, did you?” He stares down at me deathly still. “Like I said, you’re one and the same.” His expression has my blood boiling. “Don’t you fucking dare pity me, Tobias, play your part. In case you forgot, you’re the bad guy.”
“What is this?” He asks, leaning in, his tone laced with suspicion. “What are you doing?”
“Doing? Nothing. I was sleeping, but apparently that’s not happening anytime soon, so,” I nudge his idle hand and close my eyes. A breath passes, then another, before his hand resumes covering me in a soft caress. I open my eyes, irritated by the unwelcome tenderness in his touch. It’s when I see sympathy that I reach back and slap him, wiping his expression away. In a flash, I’m being pressed into the mattress, my wrists in his grip as he snarls at me, nose to nose.
“Stop. Fucking. Hitting. Me.”
He smashes his mouth on mine, slipping his tongue past my teeth with my first moan. Mouths molding, I rip at his shirt as he buries his face in my neck, lowering his hand to push his fingers inside me, finding me soaked. He groans as he rims my pussy, sliding a second finger to the circle of muscle behind it. I yelp into his mouth and grip him behind the neck while he probes me in an untouched place.
He breaks from me, his fingers smoothly going in and out as he watches my reaction to his touch. Eyes ablaze, he withdraws and stands to rid himself of his clothes. Breasts exposed, legs open, I lift to my elbows to watch.
I’m barely able to manage another clear thought when his cock springs free from his boxers, bobbing heavily in front of me. I do my best to control the display of my hunger as he draws me to the end of the bed and wraps my hair around his fist, before bending to kiss me. Fire ignites in my core as he thrusts his tongue in, over and over until I’m moaning and reaching for his cock. I pump him in my hand when he pulls back, his eyes hood as I lick my lips, lust drunk from his kiss.
“Suck,” he orders, and I gape at him—the audacity of this man. His eyes are unyielding as I barter with my devil, eyeing the head, my mouth watering. Stalling, I glare up at him and squeeze him from thick base to engorged tip. He’s dripping, and I find satisfaction in that.
It’s my move.
I continue to pump him with my hand as he traces my hot-pink stained lips with his finger before pushing one into my mouth and then adding another. On impulse, I suck as he curses before replacing his fingers with the thick head of his cock, and sliding it in.
“Putain.” Fuck.
I choke on the fullness of him as my jaw burns while I furiously try to fit him in my mouth. His amber eyes are ensnared as he watches, bewitched. I struggle with his size, hollowing my cheeks, opening my throat. He’s too big, and I’m barely able to cover half of him as he begins to pump his hips. Clawing his thighs, I try my best to get him in, his jaw flexes at my effort, his eyes hooding while his lips turn up in smug amusement. The man is ridiculously hung and no doubt aware of it.
Relaxing my jaw, I lift to my knees and dive, finally able to get him in as a trail of saliva drips between us. The sight of it sets him off as I choke on his length, his girth, and his hands start to roam. My teeth rake his silky head as he orders me on all fours before turning me so that he’s stretching me with his thick fingers while he feeds me his cock. My jaw burns with every thrust of his hips, but I’m rewarded by his mingled breaths and filthy words.
I pull away, allowing myself some breath and fondle his balls, pumping him in long strokes. He runs his fingers along my jaw, and then across my lips. He’s in no hurry, he plans on taking his time.
My core tightens around his fingers, my orgasm building while I stroke him, pleasure him, a man I despise beyond words, all reasoning.
But I love the feel of him in my mouth, the sight of him bare and under my power. I stroke him, suck him, playing with the fire that has done nothing but burn me since the moment I knew of his
existence. His girth bulges in my mouth just before he pushes me off my knees and jerks me to the edge of the bed, spreading my legs before lining our bodies up, his intent clear.
“N-no,” I back away from him, sputtering and jerking my head, denying him. He stills me and grips my throat, the pads of his fingers digging in. He moves to hover above me, tracing my lips with his tongue before feeding alcohol-laced words into my mouth.
“You have an IUD, and I’m not fucking anyone else, Cecelia. I’m no threat to you.” Retrieving his pants, he pulls a condom from his wallet and tosses it on my stomach before jerking me back to position and spreading my thighs wide. “I’m taking my punishment.” Our eyes meet with his confession. “As long as this is happening, it’s only you.”
And I can’t help myself. I watch as he slides his thick tip through my folds, pressing it to my clit, teasing and torturing us both. Condom still resting on my stomach, I make no attempt to retrieve it as he runs his head up and down my slick center, the head of his cock glistening.
My move.
He allows only a moment more for any last objections before I answer with the faint lift of my hips.
A soft gasp leaves me as he fills me, our gazes locked on the stretch as he claims me in the most intimate way. Once seated, his eyes narrow to slits as both our jaws go slack.
I hate that I love the way his eyes burn bright as he watches my reaction to him. I hate that somewhere deep inside, a voice is dying to break free, the one that never wants this to end, and that the voice belongs to me, to my darkness, to the sick woman inside me that can’t get enough of this evil bastard.
He drives in again, his palm gliding up my body before he tightens it around my throat.
“Call out to me,” he orders, his voice laced with restraint. “We might as well enjoy hell together.”
The feel of this is overwhelming; too carnal, too personal, it’s just entirely too much, and it’s driving me to the brink. His thrusts deepen, and I begin a quick climb, the pressure of his fingers around my neck fluctuating with every roll of his hips.
I rip at his hand as he denies me air, the intensity building with every squeeze and release. My need growing the heavier his hand becomes.
“Call out to me,” he grits out as he slams into me and I hold onto his hand, unable to steady myself. I’m teetering on the edge of darkness when he pulls out and taps the top of my pussy with his thick head.
My body writhes beneath him, my center aching from his absence. He wants to absolutely break me, brainwash me, brand my body, train it to crave him—and only him.
Why can’t he just be satisfied with what he’s taken already?
He presses in again, his chest rippling with restraint, his thick voice full of command.
“Call out to me, Cecelia.”
“No.”
He’s taken everything else. I won’t give him this. I can’t give this man more of what he so clearly doesn’t deserve. He searches my face seeing the truth of it and slams into me, and I bow off the bed, my body convulsing in pleasure before he bends, claiming my mouth. He fucks me with his tongue, suffocating me with his kiss, his hand still wrapped around my throat. It’s torturous, agonizing bliss. When he pulls away, his strokes pick up as I crest again and he squeezes, cutting off my air supply just as I explode around him. My body succumbs as the tidal wave of ecstasy washes through me, and the minute my throat is released, I moan, rippling with the onslaught before I unhinge.
Shivering in the aftermath, he laces our hands and pins them next to my head. Our mouths collide as he pistons inside me, the slapping sound of skin again driving me to the brink. When he feels me tighten around him in anticipation of another release, he rips his mouth away. I climb and climb as he keeps me pinned, his eyes locked in on my lips. Just before I come again, he releases my hands and scoops me into his hold. Lifted from the mattress, his forearms cradle my thighs, his arms hooking through mine while his fingers dig into my shoulders, anchoring me to him. And within a few thrusts, I erupt, biting my lips, holding his name on my tongue, coming so hard I see black. Utterly sated, I go limp as he lays me back on the bed, gripping my chin in his hand and forcing my eyes to his as he thrusts once, twice, and succumbs.
I see it, that immense pleasure in his gaze as he fills me with his orgasm, a long groan erupting from his throat before his eyes close and he collapses at my side.
He takes great care not to touch any part of me as he regains his strength. I turn my head and study him as he stares up at the ceiling, seeming lost in his thoughts.
Long minutes pass and I feel the fatigue sent in, and oddly enough, sleep begins to beckon me. Sometime later, I open my eyes to see him watching me.
Briefly, he lowers his stare to my bare flesh before he darts it away. “This was a mistake.”
A sarcastic laugh erupts from me. “You think, Tobias?” I shake my head. “Be honest and admit tonight was just as purposeful as the first. If I have to own it, you do too.”
“You sound a lot like Sean.” He weighs my answering expression. “That pleases you.” I see the disdain in his eyes. He’s jealous, or something close to it. And it’s territorial jealousy at most because there’s no way this man cares for me.
“You can’t tell me who to sleep with.”
“I don’t have to. You won’t fuck anyone but me. You proved that to yourself. And I don’t share all the beliefs of my brothers.” Women. He doesn’t share women. His eyes flare in warning. “From here on out, I strongly suggest you don’t test me on that.”
“Well, let me think of a response,” I pretend to mull it over. “Screw you. You don’t own me. And you’re crazy if you think I’m taking orders from you now just because of this.”
“But you won’t.” His confident smirk is infuriating. He moves to get up and I position myself back in bed as he pulls on his boxers.
“You aren’t staying. I don’t want you here.”
He glares at me from where he stands, one arm through his T-shirt. “What in the hell makes you think I want to stay here?”
He lifts his slacks and fastens the buckle, the loose hair cresting across his forehead, distracting. His business dress is a contrast to the jeans and T-shirts I’m used to, and I briefly wonder which I’d prefer under different circumstances.
But with Tobias, I’m grateful I still feel nothing but hate and lust. And the softness in his eyes tonight with my confessions only angered me. He set out to hurt me. He made sure of it. But he himself gave me the power to remain immune to him.
“Tu me crains autant que tu me détestes.” You fear me as much as you hate me.
I’ve been desperately trying to brush up on my French, and though I’m nowhere near fully conversational, it’s slowly coming back.
He looks down to where I lay shaking his head while he buttons his shirt. “Jésus, toujours aussi délirante.” Jesus, still delusional. “I have you the only way I want you. And your French tongue is shit.”
“Yet you understood me, and I’ve made my point. You’re a tool, Tobias, in every sense of the word. Close the door on your way out.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I turn my back to him, pulling the covers over my naked body. And when he leaves, he leaves it open.
I can feel him.
Everywhere.
And though I’ve washed my sheets, I swear I can still smell the lingering spice of his presence permeating my bedroom. I don’t check my rearview, but I know I’m being followed, my every move being watched, and if I’m honest, I felt it long before the past few weeks.
I don’t bother trying to pull anything stupid. It won’t be long before I claim my life as my own. I’ve started to form some plans for my future and to secure my place in my new life. I have to be smart about every move. With every punch of my timecard, I keep up my end of the deal with Roman. On the day I clock out for the last time, I’ll arrange a life-changing transfer to my mother. As for myself, I’ll make use of the money, but know it won’t make a dent in m
y state of mind other than the fact I won’t have to stress and worry about how to obtain it in the future.
That aside, I want more for myself than inherited wealth. Every day I feel a little bit stronger, like I could turn this around and try to cover the surface of the scars I’ve collected, no matter how deep they still run.
I’ve been diligent in serving out the rest of my time here without incident, passing on beers after work and gatherings at Melinda’s while researching majors as summer passes me by. It’s a night and day difference from my last summer, but I refuse to dwell on it. Daily, I push away the thoughts of the men who ruled me for endless days and months, and the latest addition to the mix is becoming the most challenging to ignore. It’s during the night when my subconscious takes over and I dream vividly, and the morning after, where I’m forced to relive each painful moment, cursed with the gift of dream recall.
The hangover from them can take hours and sometimes a full day to get through. I allow the burn because it’s my hope it’s a part of healing—that they’ll strengthen me.
Your heart has no place here.
Where I thought I’d been growing wings last year, they’ve all but disappeared at this point. My consolation is that I’m more focused than ever on what happens when Roman’s control clock ticks out.
I consider applying for college far away on the other side of the country, or maybe in a different one altogether. With an abundant bank account and a decent GPA, there are no limits to what I can do. I can start all over, gain my full education at a more reputable school. I’ve only been a student a few months, and though I like school, my education in Triple Falls has been a collection of very hard lessons.
However, my fire has returned front and center, and I won’t stop this flicker of hope, not for anything, it’s my driving force. My only regret is that I continue to lie while FaceTiming Christy and make up excuses to keep her at bay, to keep her safe from my situation. I purposefully deceive her with each conversation, only allowing her to know a percentage of the life I now live. Her new and distracting boyfriend, Josh, is my saving grace. If it weren’t for him, I’d be in much hotter water.
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