by Dori Lavelle
He looks up, a line etched between his eyebrows. “I called to check up on him yesterday. From what I hear, he’s settling in well with the new family.” He pauses. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
“I miss him.” Talking about Leon is a step toward putting us on the same wavelength. His eyes tell me he also bonded with the baby.
“I do too.” He starts tying his tie, eyes fixed on the window. “Would you have wanted to keep him?”
“I… no…”
“I got the impression that you fell in love with him. You were pretty upset when he left.”
Beads of sweat pop up on my nose. “Yes, yes. Sure, I was upset. But I’m not ready to be a mom.” This conversation has to die immediately. Throwing Leon into the mix again will complicate my escape plans.
He chuckles. “No need to panic. You were an exceptional substitute mom, but I agree with you. We should enjoy married life a little first before starting a family.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear, but I’m relieved nevertheless. I give him a nod and swipe my nose with the back of my hand. I have to make him believe I want to go along with his sick plans.
He rises to his feet. “We’ll both be ready in a year or two. That’s more than enough time to wait, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” The simple word is like a poisonous pill on my tongue.
“Perfect.” He disappears back into the wardrobe and exits with a charcoal suit jacket over his arm.
I sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to my neck to cover my semi-nakedness. “Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting with some business partners.” He walks over to the bed and kisses me on the lips. “I’m sorry we can’t have breakfast together. But I’ll be back before dinner.”
“Damien.” I bite my lip. “Do you mind if I go out into the garden for some air?”
A cloud settles over his features. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can’t have you leaving the room when I’m not here.”
“I’ve been having headaches, and I know some fresh air will help.”
He glances at the door and then at the windows. “I have a better idea.” He walks over to the windows, pulls a key from his pocket, and inserts it into a keyhole. He extracts it and slides the windows open. The stream of fresh air that drifts in is intoxicating, but it’s not enough to satisfy me.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to open the bars as well. My heart falls when he turns around and pushes the key back into his pocket. “There, plenty of fresh air. I’ll have Hanna bring up a painkiller with your breakfast.”
I deflate back against the pillows. “Thanks.” I’m seething inside, but I can’t rock the boat. My earlier resistance got me nowhere.
“See you later, my angel.” He places a fluffy bathrobe on the bed for me and kisses me on the lips once more. Then he leaves me with nothing but a long, empty day ahead filled with shattered plans.
The first thing I do after breakfast is run my hands along the bars at the windows to see if there’s some way they can be opened.
“Can I be of assistance, Mrs. Steel?” A voice interrupts me. “Is there a problem?”
I jump away from the windows. “No, Adrian, everything’s fine.”
Damn cameras. I forgot about them.
I’m about to sit down on the bed when I change my mind and head to the door. I lean my body against it. I could try and reach out to Adrian again, pull him into a conversation.
But that might backfire. For one, like last time, he might not take the bait out of loyalty to his boss. Plus, the cameras are still running. It’s too easy for Damien to find out what I’ve been up to. And that could destroy the tiny bit of progress I’ve made, burn the fragile bridge between us. Things would definitely get worse after that.
I have to come up with another plan. No matter what it takes, I’m getting out of this damn prison.
An hour later, an idea sneaks into my mind—something so twisted I want to throw up. There’s one way to get him to let his guard down and trust me. I’ll give him what he wants, and in return, I hope to get what I want.
The price of freedom had never been so high.
41
I spend the whole of dinner silent, moving my food around the plate. Hunger is far from my mind as I think of what lies ahead.
“You’re awfully quiet. Are you all right?” Damien asks. I almost laugh at the question, but I catch myself and simply nod.
Once we’re back in the bedroom, he hands me the lingerie I’m expected to wear for the night.
As usual, he strips off his clothes and climbs into bed naked. I pick up the wine-red crotchless lace bodysuit and head to the bathroom to change, thinking about my plans for the night.
I stand by the double glass bowl sinks, turned away from the glass wall through which Damien is watching my every move. My gaze falls upon the stretchy material in my hands.
My stomach is churning, but I can’t back out of my plan. I gather a few shuddering breaths and walk back into the bedroom, the body suit hanging from a finger.
“You didn’t change.” The statement carries a concealed warning.
“No,” I whisper, and drop the piece of fragile lingerie to the floor. It falls on my bare right foot. I take a few shaky steps toward the bed, trying hard to ignore the small voice inside my head that mocks me.
What the hell do you know about seducing a man?
I’m about to agree with the voice. After all, I was a virgin not long ago. Then I remember the day I had sex with him. My body surprised me then, doing things I never knew it was capable of, even without experience. I only hope that tonight it won’t let me down.
I unclench my fists and lift my hands, taking my time removing the strapless mermaid chiffon dress I wore to dinner. My breath catches when it sweeps over the curves of my body and pools at my feet.
I lift my closed lids to look at Damien. He’s no longer lying against the pillows, but is propped up on an elbow, eyes hooded.
I block all thoughts from my mind and step out of my underwear. I’m standing naked in front of him. I start to lift the sheets but change my mind. Instead, I spread myself on top of the covers. I feel like a prostitute. Maybe I am—I’m about to trade my body for something I want.
He clears his throat. “You’re sleeping naked?”
“If you don’t mind.” Although I’m lying on my side with the front of my body turned toward him, I avert my gaze. I’m afraid to be burned by the fire in his eyes.
“I didn’t ask you to…” His voice is a rumble inside his throat.
“I know.”
“What are you doing?”
My blood pressure shoots up. “I thought—”
“That I might want to fuck you?” He reaches out his right hand and places it on my naked waist. His touch scalds me.
“Yes.” Please don’t let him see through me.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I do as told. As I expected, his eyes are boiling with desire. “Is this what you want—what you really want? Are you ready?”
He’s giving you a way out. Take it or leave it.
“Yes.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “I want you, Damien.”
“Good answer.” Before I can say anything else, he’s turned me onto my back and his mouth is covering mine, his tongue prying my lips apart. I unclench my teeth and let him in.
His naked body stretches out over mine, and he places a knee between my legs. A sudden wave of disgust at what I’m doing causes me to clench up.
He stops kissing me. “Are you okay?” His expression is tight. “Don’t play games with me, Ivy. Tell me you want to do this.”
Tears prick my eyes as I nod. I close them tight and unclench my muscles. It’s going to be fine. As disturbing as this is, I still do find his body attractive. I’ve felt him inside me before, and I loved every moment of it then.
“Relax, rosebud.” He kisses the side of my neck. “Let me remind you how good we are together.” He kisses his wa
y down my body until he reaches my breasts. My left nipple hardens when he sucks it into his warm mouth. He sucks and nips my bud just enough to make me gasp and almost scream out with longing.
When he lifts his head a fraction, my nipple slides out of his mouth. “Did you like that, Ivy? Do you want me to own you completely?”
“Yes.” The word feels true on my tongue, and for a brief moment I’m ashamed with myself.
“Be a good girl and say the words. Say you want me to own you.”
“I want… I want you to own me.” I’m selling my soul to the devil, and there’s no guarantee I’ll get anything in exchange. But I’ve already crossed a line and my body refuses to let me turn back.
He rolls off me, a smile spreading across his face. “Get on your hands and knees.”
The idea of being taken from behind makes me wet. But before I obey his command, my eyes meet his. “Do you have—”
“Hands and knees now!” He gets off the bed, approaches an ornate dresser, and pulls out a drawer.
Once I see the string of condoms and hear him tearing one off, I roll to my stomach and pull myself up until I’m on all fours, my ass up in the air. My senses are spinning out of control as I wait.
It doesn’t take him long to return to the bed. I crane my head once and see his hard shaft—he’s wearing a condom.
He positions himself behind me and places a hand on the nape of my neck. Before I can brace myself for what’s to come, he parts my ass cheeks and pushes inside me.
The sudden thrust is so deep that it sends a bolt of pain into the walls of my belly. My gasp scratches my throat. I grasp the sheets, clutching on to them for support.
As he fills me and pounds into me with deep strokes, I feel like a virgin all over again. It’s as though the first time he fucked me, he was holding back, and now he’s giving me his all.
It takes a few thrusts for my muscles to relax, to adjust to his thick shaft and allow him smooth entry. With each thrust, he lets out a throaty, animalistic groan that splits the electric air around us and collides with my moans.
He slides one arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, while the other finds my clit and pinches it, eliciting a cry. I hate what he’s doing and love it at the same time. Maybe I love it more than I hate it, but I’m not ready to admit that to myself.
“You’re mine now,” he murmurs into my hair. “You belong to me, every inch of you.” He doesn’t stop moving in and out of me as he cups my pussy hard. “This part of you is my favorite.”
An incoherent sound escapes my mouth as tears fill my eyes. My body jolts forward as his pace increases. An unwanted thread of pleasure twirls from my pussy to my abdomen. Closing my eyes tight, I pray he’ll let me come this time. I try to keep my strangled cries low so he doesn’t know how near to orgasm I am. I don’t want him to withdraw at the last second again.
“It’s okay, my angel. Come for me. Say my name.” One of his hands is around my neck now, exerting pressure on my throat. Fear courses through me. Will he strangle me? Will he kill me now that he’s gotten what he wants? I can’t breathe!
I lift a hand and try to pry his fingers away, but I’m unable to. Before I fall forward with only one arm to support me, I give up. I force myself to relax.
My mind calms enough for me to realize it’s not the pressure of his hand around my neck that’s cutting off my air supply, but my fear of death. His hand isn’t tight enough to hurt me. I squeeze my watery eyes tight and give in to him completely. He tears through me without mercy, his balls slapping my skin.
Pushed to the limits of desire, my muscles clench around his dick. With a groan, he lets go of my neck and both his hands find my hips. He drives into me harder and faster than before. An orgasm hits my body like a cannon ball and shoots through the entire length of my body. It’s a hurricane, ripping through me, robbing me of strength.
With a grunt, he withdraws completely, then slams into me again with a force that almost breaks me. Both of us are trembling now.
The bones inside my body melt. I can’t hold my position and fall onto the sheets. He falls right on top of me, his dick hitting a bull’s eye.
“Fuck, Ivy. Fuck.” The way he says my name when he comes almost makes me believe he really loves me, reminding me of what we could have had.
Afterward, I don’t move away from him. I want to, but I can’t seem to make myself. Being close to him gives me some twisted sense of security. I hate myself for it. How sick am I, to yearn for comfort in the arms of the man who’s hurt me so much? Can it be I’m just as sick as he is?
I came into this believing I was in control. I wanted to be the one with the power. Instead I gave him even more control over me. He owns me in every way now, just as he said he would.
42
When the impact of what I’ve done hits me full force, I extricate myself from Damien’s hold and run to the bathroom. I wish for the hundredth time that he weren’t able to see me through the glass.
My body itches for a shower, to be scrubbed of the scent of him. Sobs grip me before I can turn on the water.
I crumple against one marble wall and slide to the cool floor. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, trickling down my cheeks and neck.
After he fucked me, I felt strangely whole. Now all I feel is a deep, empty abyss in the center of my heart.
For a long time, Damien keeps his distance, though his eyes are on me. When he finally enters the bathroom, I’ve wept for a long time and I’m lying on the dry shower floor, my damp cheek pressed against the tiles. His muted footsteps move across the room toward me. I sit up and wipe the tears away. I don’t look at him.
“I thought you wanted this.” He inhales sharply. “You specifically made it clear that you wanted me to fuck you.”
I swallow the rest of the tears lingering in my throat as sudden confidence fills my body. I lift my chin and meet his hardened gaze. “Answer me one thing.”
He folds his arms across his hard chest. I try not to look below his naked waist. “Anything.”
“Why me? Why did you pick me? What made you decide I was the one you wanted to torture? Did moving into that dorm room put me in the wrong place at the wrong time?” My tongue rolls over my dry lips and I taste the salt of my tears. “If not me, would it have been Jennifer? Or someone else?”
“No.” He slides his gaze from me and takes a few steps back until his calves meet the edge of the bathtub. “Let’s not taint our new life with the past. You are right for me. Leave it at that.”
“Do you really expect me to feel fortunate?” I wrap my arms around my body. I’m too angry to stop bombarding him with questions. “Am I supposed to feel lucky that I’m the one who had the privilege to be kidnapped by you?”
“No.” The word is as hard as marble. “Again, you have it all wrong. Kidnapping is the wrong word.” He perches on the lip of the bath. “I brought you into my life because I love you. You belong to me.”
“You’ve got such a messed-up definition of love. This is not love. Whatever you feel for me is a sickness, an obsession. You have to be broken somewhere to believe it’s anything else.”
He shoots up from the tub. The next thing I know, he’s holding me up by the nape of my neck, yanking me out of the shower cubicle. He pulls my face to his. “Don’t you ever say that again. Don’t disrespect my love for you. Ever.”
“Or what?” I stand on tiptoes so I’m as close to his face as possible, ignoring the pain in my neck. “What will you do to me that you haven’t already done? Kill me?”
“If you push me too far, I just might. Don’t test me.” He lets go of me so suddenly I stumble back. “Do what you have to do in here and come back to bed.”
He strides back into the room, leaving me shaken and vibrating with anger. I remain in the bathroom for a long time, huddled in a corner, afraid to return to his side.
I shrink back when he reenters the bathroom. For a moment he stands in the doorway, watching me. Then he stretches out
a hand.
Ignoring the gesture, I rise to my feet and push myself past him. He follows without a word.
I climb under the sheets and move as far away from him as possible without falling off the bed. Instead of reaching for me, he simply turns off the lights.
Ten minutes later, he’s asleep, and as usual, I’m wide awake, hearing the memories, the sounds of our earlier lovemaking. I want to say I’ll refuse to give myself to him again, but it’s a lie.
As much as I hate him, as much as I hate the way I feel after he’s fucked me, there’s no denying that my body wants him. It belongs to him without my consent.
In the days and nights that follow, I fall right back into bed with Damien. No amount of anger is strong enough to quench my desire for him. Every time I sleep with him, I hate myself, but I can’t seem to stop. The mind-numbing orgasms he gives me at night make being locked up all day more bearable. They’re something to look forward to.
I don’t push him away, even though letting him fuck me isn’t getting me any closer to my freedom. He still struggles to trust me. The only time I leave the stifling room is for dinner in the dining room.
As the days pass, Damien seems happier than ever, pretending we’re in wedded bliss.
Perhaps I should give in and accept my fate, but the faint stubborn streak inside of me refuses to let go completely. There has to be a way out.
The next time Damien is away, I spend some time roaming the room. It’s not that I want to acquaint myself with my surroundings, necessarily. But this is the room Damien sleeps in, which means he could’ve left pieces of himself lying around—snapshots of his life that would help me better understand him. Something I could use to destroy him.
Knowing I’m being watched, I’m careful not to act too suspicious, and pretend to be tidying up the place. After almost an hour, I find nothing noteworthy. It’s as though Damien moved into the room at the same time he brought me here. Apart from clothes and toiletries, I find no personal items. By the time I’m done snooping around, I’m bored out of my mind. There are no books for me to read or anything else for me to do here.