by Cassia Leo
He sits on the edge of the bed. “Give me your hand.”
I try not to smile. Even though he can’t see my face, I know he can feel my energy. He’s asking for my hand rather than taking it so he knows he has my consent and cooperation. I want to tell him he needn’t order me around. He can just do with me as he pleases.
But I must be patient.
I hold my hand out to him and he takes it gently in his. He holds my hand face up, and I flinch when the tip of the feather quill comes in contact with my palm. He traces the quill over my skin and down to each fingertip, one at a time. Then he begins writing something on my palm.
M-A-C-H-E-R-I-E. Ma chérie. My darling in French.
Then he presses his lips to my hand and I draw in a sharp breath. Something about his lips on my skin makes me emotional. My skin has been my enemy for nineteen years, but when he puts his lips on me, it’s as if all my enemies have fallen and the two of us are the only ones left standing.
He lays my hand on the bed, then he turns the feather around and traces the soft vane of the feather down my temple and cheek. I try to keep my breathing even, but I know he can see the rapid rise and fall of my chest as he traces the feather down the side of my neck and over my collarbone.
“You have a gorgeous figure,” he murmurs, tracing a line over my shoulder then back toward my neck.
The feather lands in the hollow of my throat and he drags it slowly down the center of my chest, stopping when it lands between my breasts. I hold my breath as he lightly slides it over the swell of my left breast and stops, dangling the soft tip over my bare nipple. He leans forward and blows on the feather so it tickles my skin, sending an aching chill through my body.
“Do you feel that?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Does it feel like your heart is pulsing between your legs?”
“Yes.”
He circles my nipple with the feather, over and over until the ache between my legs is so painful, I can’t take it anymore. I arch my back and shake my head, unable to speak my protest. He drags the feather across my chest to my other nipple and tortures me again.
“Please,” I plead.
“Please, what? What do you want me to do?”
I exhale a stale breath. This is it. This is my chance to feel the pleasure I’ve been dreaming of since I left my parents’ house.
“Please… You don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle whatever you give me.”
He pauses for a moment, then he delicately tucks the feather between my swollen pussy lips, sending a pleasurable shock through me.
“We’ll see about that. I have many things I’d like to do to this tight little body of yours. Many of which I’ve learned are still considered crimes in some parts of this country.”
I suck in a sharp breath as he leans over and gently presses his lips to the soft flesh above my navel.
He chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to hurt you,” he murmurs, tracing his fingers over my leg. “I only wish to leave you shivering with pleasure. Goodnight, chérie.”
And then he’s gone. Again.
Leaving me to question not just my sanity, but also my next move.
Chapter Six
Eight Months Ago
The moment I enter the kitchen, the smell of ground beef browning in the pot on the stove makes my stomach turn. My father refuses to allow me to be a vegetarian while living in his house. It has nothing to do with my principles or humanitarianism. It’s just the smell of meat that makes me sick. Plain and simple. But that’s not a valid reason for my father. He doesn’t want me to be some “pansy liberal” who can’t defend herself.
Such a stupid copout. There’s no doubt I can defend myself. I can do more than that. After twelve years of intense training in hand-to-hand combat, I’m practically a weapon of mass destruction by now.
My mother stands over the stove with her wooden spoon in hand as she stirs the meat in the pot. I have evil fantasies about my mother sometimes. I’ve thought of locking her in her bedroom more times than I can count, just to see how she likes it. I’ve imagined her wasting away in her room because all I give her to eat are slabs of raw meat.
I shake my head to clear away these sick thoughts. The biggest mistake my parents made was allowing me to watch television. They allowed me a window to the outside world. That window helps me know that these thoughts of torturing my mother are not normal. I also know that keeping me in a basement and training me to be a killing machine is also not the way most children are raised.
And I’m not a child anymore.
“Mom?”
Her unnaturally red hair is pinned up in a bun on the back of her head. She glances over her shoulder then turns back to her pot.
“What?”
I draw in a deep breath and try not to let my emotions get the best of me. “I’m moving out.”
Her hand stops stirring and her body freezes. “What?”
“I’m leaving. Tonight.”
She lets out a puff of laughter and continues stirring. “Yeah, right. Set the table, Alex.”
“No.”
She pauses for a moment before she turns around to face me. “Set the table, Alex.”
“No. I’m leaving.”
“You’re not going anywhere looking like that.” She looks me up and down, a wide smile forming at the sight of the blotchy skin on my arms and face.
“I’m leaving tonight. I’m not going to pay to live in a basement.”
She rolls her blue eyes and turns back to the stove as the smell of burned meat begins to billow behind her. “Fine. You’ll begin paying next year.”
“No!” I shout. “I’m leaving tonight!”
She spins around and I duck as she hurls the wooden spoon at my head. “You’re not going anywhere!”
“I can kill you right now!”
“Go ahead and try! You think your father will allow it?” Her eyes widen with delight as she beckons me with both hands. “No one knows you exist! No one will miss you when you’re gone.”
I glance at the wooden spoon on the floor behind me and imagine driving the handle into her chest. She’s lucky I have no desire to make things even more difficult for myself.
I turn on my heel and march toward the living room. My father is sitting on the sofa. The TV screen goes black as he turns it off.
He glares at me from across the room. He heard.
“Sit down,” he says, nodding at the other end of the sofa.
I grit my teeth and take a seat. “I’m not changing my mind.”
He stares straight ahead at the wall in front of us. The wall covered in pictures of my mother and father when they were teenagers. When they got married. When they went to Jamaica, Mexico, and Europe without me. Not a single picture of me anywhere.
“I know you can take care of yourself, princess,” my father begins. “I’m not worried about that.” I cross my arms over my chest as he turns to me and looks into my eyes. “But no one will ever accept you. Not like that.” He looks me up and down the way my mother just did. “The world is cruel, princess. But if you want to leave, know that we’ll always be here whenever you want to come back.”
Chapter Seven
Present Day
The knock on the door is like music to my ears. I’ve been imagining this night all day long. As if he knows I’m not working tonight, he arrives at midnight. It would be easy for “Detective” Daimon Rousseau to find out my work schedule. If he is a real detective, he could find out just about anything he wants to know about me, but I don’t think he is. I don’t plan on asking. The fact that I don’t know just heightens the mystery and anticipation.
I pull the door open a crack and walk toward my bedroom instead of the kitchen.
“Wait. I have something for you.”
My stomach lurches as I’m filled with disappointment. I thought we would get straight to it. I don’t need gifts. I need to feel his touch.
I sigh as I wait for the so
ft light from the corridor to disappear when he closes the door, then I turn around. I walk toward the door through the darkness and he waits for me. When I’m standing before him, he reaches up and touches my face, brushing the backs of his fingers over my cheek and temple. He wants to make sure I’m not wearing my glasses.
He plants a kiss on my forehead and pulls his hand back. “I brought you something to eat.”
“To eat?”
He reaches into his pocket and I expect him to pull out a cheeseburger and fries, but through the darkness, all I can see is a small, dark ball in the palm of his hand.
“What’s that?”
He lifts his hand, bringing the object to my nose so I can smell it. I take a small whiff and the first thing I smell is raspberry then watermelon and kiwi. It must be a fruit, but it’s not anything I’ve ever eaten before.
“Go ahead. It’s my favorite fruit. I flew two hundred miles to get it for you.”
I reach up and my hand jumps the moment I touch the fruit. “It pricked me!”
He leans down and I can smell him, fresh soap and earthy oak, as he whispers in my ear. “You said you could handle anything I give you.”
I smile as I realize this was just a test. I snatch the fruit out of his hand and walk to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I place it gently on the bare shelf. When I turn around, I’m not surprised to find him standing right behind me. I bring my index finger to my mouth to suck the small droplet of blood, but he grabs my hand and takes my finger into his mouth.
I can’t see through the shadowy darkness of his hood, but I can feel him sucking the blood off my finger. Sucking so hard I can feel the pull all the way down to my abdomen and beyond. He slides my finger out of his mouth and kisses the tip before he turns around and leads me to the bedroom.
Finally.
Once we’re in the bedroom standing next to my bed, he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a piece of cloth, possibly a scarf.
“Turn around.”
I turn my back to him and he ties the silky scarf around my head so it covers my eyes. Right away, he grasps the bottom of my tank top and pulls it over my head.
I dressed appropriately today. Normally, I roam the interior of my modest home in my standard outfit, minus the hoodie. Tonight, I’m wearing just a tank top and panties. No hoodie, no jeans, and no bra.
He lays his hand on my abdomen and pulls me backward until my body is pressed against his. “The anticipation is half the fun. Wouldn’t you agree, Alex?”
“Yes.”
His hand slides down the front of my panties and cups my mound. My eyes roll back in my head as I hold my breath.
“The moment when you know something is about to happen,” he whispers in my ear, “but you don’t know when.”
I swallow hard as I say a silent prayer that he will put me out of my misery soon.
He slides his hand out of my panties and slowly pushes them down until they fall around my ankles. I step out of them, and he grabs my shoulders to turn me around.
“This is not going to happen.”
“What?” I reply, unable to hide my desperation.
“It’s not going to happen the way you imagined it.”
Oh, God.
His hand lands on the back of my neck, then his lips brush against my jaw. “Most women want to be courted,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down the curve of my neck. “You don’t even care if I kiss your lips. Why is that?”
“Because I don’t know you.”
“And you don’t care to know me?”
“No.”
His hand falls to my waist and I shiver as he drags his fingertips over my hip. “Then we agree on the most important rule of engagement.”
“Is this a war?”
“Everything is war. Especially love.”
Love. It’s a strange word to describe this “engagement,” but I’d rather not question it.
“Are there any other rules?”
“Yes.” He plants a soft kiss on the corner of my lips and I shudder with anticipation. “I must be allowed to kiss this mouth…” he murmurs, brushing his lips along my jawline “…and any other part of you I so desire.”
He presses his lips to mine and my muscles relax. He wraps his arm around my waist and pushes his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like a pear, and I try to suck the taste off his tongue, but he pulls his head back and laughs.
“Have you never been kissed, Alex?”
My stomach roils with shame as I shake my head.
“It’s okay,” he assures me, brushing the hair away from my face. “It’s okay, chérie.” He kisses my forehead then nods toward the bed. “Lie down and make yourself comfortable. Relax.”
I lie back slowly as images of the sex videos I found on the internet flash in my mind. “What are you going to do to me?”
He chuckles again. “I’m going to break you in, Alex. I’m going to make you come first, because I’m a gentleman, and because I’m going to enjoy feeling you writhe beneath me. Then I’m going to fuck you.” I can’t see him, but I can hear a soft rustling that makes me think he may have just removed his hoodie. “When I leave here, you won’t be a virgin. You’ll no longer be Alex, and you’ll want nothing to do with your former self.”
Fuck me?
I press my thighs together, trying to quiet the throbbing ache between my legs. But it’s relentless. The way he speaks to me, his promises, only make it worse.
I want to push up my blindfold to see him, but that’s against the rules. Instead, I wait patiently, listening to the soft sounds of him undressing, hoping I’ll get to at least feel his body.
The mattress tilts as he gets on the bed. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he lies next to me and lays his hand on my belly. His breath is hot in my ear as his fingers crawl down my abdomen. I lift my hips a little, anticipating his touch, and he stops just above my hard nub.
“Have you thought of me while touching yourself?”
“Yes.”
He slides his finger between my swollen flesh and quickly finds my clit. “Is this where you touch yourself?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He moves his finger back and forth and I grip the comforter to try to stifle the trembling in my limbs.
“Do you imagine my mouth on you?” I nod and he pulls his hand away. “Answer the question, Alex.”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Do you want me to lick you?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you want me to lick you?”
I hesitate, then I whisper, “There. Down there.”
“You’re a big girl, Alex. You can say the word. Do you want me to lick your pussy? Do you want me to swirl my tongue around your clit until you can hardly breathe?”
Hearing those words spoken aloud, from that mouth, spoken in that voice, I’m having trouble breathing.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I… I want you… to lick my pussy.”
“Good, because I want to lick your pussy. I want to lick you until your pussy is so wet, I can drink from you.”
Oh, my God.
The bed rocks as he moves down, positioning himself between my legs. He plants a long trail of hot, wet kisses down my belly. My body convulses the instant his tongue touches my clit. An involuntary squeak issues from deep in my throat as I try not to scream. Then he pulls his head away and I freeze with disappointment, thinking it can’t be over so soon.
But soon I feel him softly pinch my clit between his thumb and index finger. I’m so wet his fingers easily slide up and down my hard nub, applying just the right amount of pressure as he strokes me until I scream. Then he lets go and his mouth is on me again, softly sucking and swirling his tongue until I’m writhing beneath him, just as he predicted.
He continues to suck my clit, softer with each passing moment, until my body stills and I reach for his hair. He pushes my hand away and lays a few soft kisses all around my clit befo
re he pulls his head back.
“Do you want to know what you taste like?”
“Excuse me?”
Suddenly, he slides two fingers inside me while he massages my clit with the soft pad of his thumb.
“Oh, God,” I cry, unable to hold it in any longer.
He curls his fingers inside me as if he’s beckoning my pussy to come to him. Submit to him. Then he pulls his fingers out of me and his chest slides over mine until his weight is on top of me.
“Open your mouth.” I open my mouth and he slides his thumb inside. “How does that taste?”
I close my lips around his thumb and slowly circle my tongue around it. He slides his thumb out of my mouth and I swallow hard.
“Sort of musky and… a little sweet?”
“You’re very clean.” He slides the other two fingers into my mouth, the ones that were curled inside me just a moment ago. “Suck.”
I suck on his fingers and he gently guides them farther in, until he almost reaches my throat. Then he pulls them back. He drives his fingers slowly in and out of my mouth, and I feel myself becoming painfully engorged with my need for him. I need him to finish me.
I push his hand away as tears stream down my temples, then I slide my hands down his back and grab his buttocks. “Now, please.”
His erection presses against my opening and he can feel this is not going to be easy.
“This is going to hurt your tight little pussy. Are you afraid?”
“No.”
His hand slides under the small of my back and he lifts me gently, slowly sliding in just a bit farther.
“Ow.”
“That’s it, ma chérie,” he murmurs as I tilt my hips upward to beckon him farther inside. “Take it like a woman.”
I let out a soft shriek as he pierces me deeper with each stroke. He slips his finger between the wet folds of my pussy and caresses my clit. The walls of my vagina tighten around the tip of his cock and we both moan in unison. I grip the bedcovers as he fondles me, using my wetness to grant his way farther inside me.
“Daimon.” I speak his name softly and he leans forward to answer me with a kiss.