Why?
What is he waiting for?
Was this all a challenge to him? I’d given myself over to him, but he’d still found a way to win. To make me bow to his demands. To rip that fight from me even while I’d done my best to avoid it.
His right hand opened and closed by his thigh as his cock twitched with another bead of pre-cum. His jaw worked as he clenched his teeth, and his fingers closed around my hair, pulling painfully.
“Your choice.” He bit out each word. “Live or die.”
My knees dug into the cold concrete as my palms turned damp with fear. The thought of touching him, licking him, sucking him made my empty stomach flip over with acid. It made my mouth water for anything else but him.
He pulled me closer, his slacks rustling on the floor.
That was his only instruction. His only guidance. Not once did he touch himself. Not once did he even acknowledge the hard thickness throbbing between his legs.
My baby brother popped into my head.
An awful moment to think of my darling sibling but a potent reminder of why I’d made the offer in the first place. I wanted to see Josh again. I wanted to joke with him. Hug him. Let him scold me for ever going out of reception and finding a hidden house that was never meant to be found.
I couldn’t die like our father. I couldn’t just disappear.
I have to live.
My eyes snapped up to his, then dropped to his impressive erection. I’d pleasured only two other men this way, and each time, I’d despised it. They’d shoved in too deep and come down my throat without warning. I’d felt used and dirty and unappreciated.
And somehow, even with this monster looming over me, using my life as a noose to dictate forced pleasuring, I felt more wanted than any other encounter.
I knew I was beautiful to him.
I knew I was everything he wanted in that moment.
I knew I had the power to shatter his world with just a single touch. One touch on his cock and he would break. That wasn’t a secret he could hide. His stark confession blazed across his face with a thirst that made me wet despite my hatred.
One touch.
One touch and I could be free.
Sucking in a harsh breath, giving myself over to the galloping beats of my heart, I swooped forward and wrapped my fingers around his hot erection. Not letting myself think, I opened my lips and sank his heat onto my tongue.
And
Everything
Changed.
He crumpled over me.
He let out a bone-aching grunt.
He stumbled and steadied himself, using me as support as his entire body became mine.
I was the one submitting, but somehow, he became my prisoner.
A crest of agonizing heat rushed through me, arching through my blood and pooling in my belly. My core clenched around nothing, drunk on his lust, becoming infected by his hunger.
I was affected.
I was wet and heavy and utterly intoxicated in the way he gave me everything.
My world narrowed down to one thing.
Him.
I sucked hard.
I squeezed my fingers and stroked his blazing cock.
He snarled and thrust, his erection slipping deeper into my mouth.
My other senses exploded into hyperawareness. He tasted fresh, like blue rivers and green grasslands. He smelled earthy, like bracken and forest undertones. He pulsed on my tongue, delivering a salty musk that punched me with sex and seduction.
Both his hands dived into my hair, dragging me onto him. His muscular belly pressed against my forehead. His chest rumbled with grunts and groans. His vocal appreciation of what I did to him spurred me forward, erasing my humiliation at sucking a stranger in return for my life.
He changed me.
He showed me that my body wasn’t on my side. That I could lust as dangerously as he. That I could want someone I couldn’t understand or tolerate. He taught me that this was what I’d been missing.
This flair of dominance.
This threat of danger.
This delicious, disgusting power that drove me to my knees and allowed a monster to claim me.
“Fuck!” He threw his head back as I dragged my teeth along his cock. Tears rolled from my eyes as I fought my own battle of right and wrong. My breasts ached to be touched. My clit begged to be rubbed.
In a few manic moments, I’d become hotter and wetter than I’d ever been in my entire life.
I hated him for that.
I hated myself even more.
I sucked him harder, faster, crueler.
I needed this over with...so I didn’t fall even deeper into this erotic nightmare.
Digging my fingernails into the velvet casing of his cock, I didn’t sheath my teeth as I swooped up and sank down. I punished him while punishing myself, and when the temptation to snap almost broke me, when my teeth ached to bite deep, when tears drenched my cheeks and dripped off my chin, he snatched my hair and howled.
He gave me a warning.
He wasn’t like the others.
He stiffened and jerked.
His cock spurted even as he withdrew.
Half his seed spilled over my tongue, the rest spurted all over my chest. Ribbons of white cascading in jets, sticking to my hair, smelling strong and uniquely him.
The second he stopped coming, he tripped away from me. He looked down at his still saliva-glistening cock, and the haggard expression that clouded his face was swallowed up by the blackest storm.
Snatching his slacks from around his ankles, he jerked them up and secured them. The top of his cum-smeared cock popped out of the waistband, angry and raw. He swallowed and swiped both hands through his long hair, sending the mob of darkness to swing to his shoulders.
I sat back on my heels, still cursed with the wet heat inside me.
He’d had a release.
I hadn’t.
He’d come expecting one.
I’d submitted, never expecting to feel an ounce of attraction.
We’d both been destroyed in a single interaction.
I saw it on his face.
He most likely saw it on mine.
The air crushed us, dense and accusing that whatever had just happened was outside both our control.
Bracing his shoulders and standing tall, as if he hadn’t just been curled around my head while thrusting into my mouth, he seethed, “You’ll stay alive another day.”
And then, he was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I SPENT THE DAY AS far away from the basement as possible. As far away from the girl as possible.
Gemma.
Her name is Gemma.
I scoffed and swiped at the weeds daring to encroach on my spinach patch.
Who cared what her damn name was? I’d been the idiot who’d asked, but I definitely wouldn’t be the idiot who cared. It was a stupid name for a stupid girl. There was no other explanation for her.
She was stupid for exploring untouched ravines where she didn’t belong. She was stupid for climbing into a valley without backup. She was stupid for entering a house that wasn’t hers to enter.
But most of all?
She was beyond fucking stupid for offering me something I had no power to refuse.
I threw the handful of weeds into the compost, glancing down at my still eager cock tenting my slacks. All fucking day, I’d been hard as a damn rock. Every time my thoughts strayed to her—no matter how quick the passing thought—my cock went stiff.
It didn’t make sense.
Eleven years ago, I’d never wanted to see another person again, let alone touch them, kiss them, fuck them. I swore off passion and pleasure of any kind for the rest of my life. I was happy to become a monk, living alone in the forest for the rest of my godforsaken days.
Yes, I’d been steadily getting more and more urges before she’d arrived. Yes, I’d struggled not to deal with it on my own. And yes, sometimes, the needs inside me were fucking unbea
rable, but I didn’t want them, goddammit. The need for a release went against everything I’d become. I hated that my body had overpowered me and eagerly snatched up her offer. I cursed the fact she’d read me, understood exactly what I wanted, and been stupid enough to offer up her body.
How the hell was I supposed to refuse that?
Especially when I would’ve taken it anyway.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I would’ve killed her, but only after I’d had a taste. One forbidden taste that was no longer forbidden but willingly given.
Willingly?
I rolled my eyes as I stretched out the kinks in my spine and stalked barefoot through the long grass back to the kitchen door. She’d sucked me, but it hadn’t been willing. If she didn’t see a blade hanging over her throat, then she wouldn’t have looked twice at me.
She would’ve refused to give me any attention.
She would’ve scurried up the cliff walls and vanished the second I even glanced at her.
And knowing the pleasure she’d given me wasn’t freely granted made it taste all the sweeter. Didn’t others deserve to know what that felt like? Didn’t I deserve to be in a position of power for once?
My stomach snarled as I shoved my way into the kitchen and eyed up the vegetables I’d harvested this afternoon. A range of produce waited to be washed, prepped, and placed into the fridge to extend their usability during this heatwave.
I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I’d gone for a long run, a swim, and done hours’ worth of gardening since leaving my prisoner this morning. Not to mention, I’d spent all that time violently denying the lust in my blood.
I was exhausted.
I was sick to death of the itchy hunger inside that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with my trespasser.
My cock had a fucking trance on it. It wanted to bolt to the basement and force the girl to worship it. It wanted to come again and again. It wanted to be used after a decade of forced celibacy.
Gritting my teeth, I ignored the incessant tug in my belly and focused on making dinner. I only wore my dirty slacks, having shrugged off the shirt during a fierce bout of digging potatoes, and sighed in relief as a cool evening breeze wafted through the kitchen.
In winter, dusk always depressed me. It came around too fast and settled in for too long. It brought ice and silence and nightmares. In summer, I liked dusk the most. It came with its pink glow and lingered with its gray shadows. It cooled off the intensity of the sun but left behind mugginess, granting a perfect temperature neither too hot nor too cold.
Would she be cold?
Down there in puddles and stone?
Do I care?
My cock twitched; apparently he cared, even if I didn’t.
My thoughts once again skipped to my hostage as I sliced up fresh potatoes and tossed them in the rudimentary flour I’d made from the wild grass seed heads outside. I’d long since run out of oil, but I’d learned if I added a thin layer of flour and baked sticks of potatoes in the oven (an oven that’d lasted this long and hopefully wouldn’t die for another few decades), I could achieve crispy french fries that rivaled any I might’ve remembered from a previous life.
I didn’t bother cooking in the summer much. I ate most of the vegetables raw, and the game I caught was smoked or charred over a fire outside.
However, I wasn’t just cooking for myself anymore.
Already, she’d complicated my world, and she’d only been here two days.
Her life for my pleasure.
Is that deal worth it?
This morning, with my cock down her throat and her tongue bringing me to a spine-snapping orgasm, I would’ve said shit yes it was worth it. Now, with the cool evening air and the knowledge that the seasons would change soon and the ease of living would grow difficult, I wasn’t so sure.
Sex wasn’t useful. Sex wasn’t productive. Sex would get me into a shit ton of trouble that I didn’t need.
Her blowjob had granted her another day of living.
Perhaps, that ought to be the fine print of our deal.
Notice me, pleasure me, and she could live to see another sunrise.
Deny me, upset me, and she would forfeit any and all leniency.
Liking those new rules, I pulled out two plates and prepared to feed my complicated possession.
* * * * *
“You came back.” She shot to her feet and braced against the wall as if she could run through it.
My eyes snapped to hers as I stepped into the cell and shut the door behind me. Two plates balanced on one arm, feeling like I was the one in servitude and not the other way around.
Ignoring the way her gaze locked onto me as if I might disappear again, I stalked toward her and placed the food beside the empty plates from this morning.
It turned out, she’d decided to take her chances and had eaten the same breakfast she’d suspected I’d poisoned.
It shouldn’t affect me that she’d eaten my food, that she’d willingly taken other parts of me into her body, but it did. It affected me more than watching my cock slide over her tongue. It made my heart twitch instead of my balls, and I stabbed it for ever thinking of betraying me.
“I...” She didn’t complete her thought, wringing her hands as she glanced at the dinner I’d provided. At the golden crunchy homemade fries, the salad consisting of lettuce, spinach, kale, and shredded carrot. No dressing flavored the leaves, and I no longer had any nuts, but I had found a wild honeybee hive and raided their stash a few weeks ago. Their honey drizzled the french fries, glistening in the harsh bulb above.
Nodding gratefully, she made eye contact for a moment. “Thank you.”
I clenched my teeth and fell into a cross-legged position before her. I was past pleasantries. I was hungry. Therefore, I was eating with or without her.
Shoving a few fries into my mouth, I chewed and enjoyed savory mixed with the sweetness of honey. Slowly, she sat down, sliding along the damp wall before picking up her plate.
Watching me wolf down my portion, she delicately plucked a fry before placing it into her mouth.
I froze. My cock hardened. My heart sputtered.
Shit.
I shouldn’t look at her mouth.
At those plump lips that’d been around my cock. The same mouth that’d granted a convulsive orgasm. My eyes trailed down her bruise-shadowed throat, getting caught on the tangled hair hanging over her shoulders.
Dirtier than yesterday, the knots needed a brush, and the residue of my cum had matted a few strands together.
Her clothes were tight and obviously chosen not to snag on trees and rocks as she trespassed on people’s valleys, yet she didn’t seem to mind the dirt and smudges covering her.
What did she look like beneath them? Was her belly as toned as her arms? Were her legs tanned or pale? Did she have tattoos like some people in my past?
The longer I looked at her, the hungrier I became for other things. My cock had an unwavering obsession with her. It wanted to be inside her more than it wanted food. It wanted her pinned beneath me, crying, begging, taking everything I had to give.
But my heart...fuck, that stupid thing wanted a softness I’d never been given.
It wanted to listen and be listened to.
It wanted—
Shut the hell up.
She’s a toy, that’s all.
A toy that means nothing.
Clearing my throat, I tore my gaze away and shoved a handful of sticky fries into my mouth.
She shifted on the cold concrete, picking up a spinach leaf with her fingers.
She didn’t try to speak again, and I despised conversation. I much preferred silence. That was where secrets lay. Stay silent around someone, and either they filled it with confessions or you could hear what they tried to hide.
The problem with listening in my past was I’d learned far too many dangerous things. Things I wished I could forget but always remembered in my dreams. Silence could backfire, I
’d learned that the hard way—but I needed to know more about her.
Needed to know how far I could push, how much she’d give...before she broke.
We ate most of our meal in strained quietness. The crunch of salad on her teeth made my heart race. The vision of fries slipping past her lips made my cock throb. I had indigestion by the time I’d finished, thanks to my lust tangling me into knots.
“I appreciate you feeding me again.” She kept her green and brown swirling eyes on my legs. Flecks of gold shimmered there too, reminding me of fantastical heroines from the books I’d consumed in the library. She was pretty enough to be some otherworldly creature. Someone whose origins I didn’t know about. Someone who’d just magically appeared to serve me in whatever way I saw fit.
I stared at her with a new intensity, suffocating beneath the wash of heaviness and heat that made my body tight and achy.
Her shoulders tensed. Her back shot ramrod straight. She balled her hands as if she knew where my thoughts had strayed, waiting for a command that she didn’t want.
Did she expect me to order her to suck me again?
I’d fed her, so I was fully within my right to claim something in return.
My cock swelled past bearable. Desire billowed thicker. I was a slave to the rampant need she’d conjured.
I stood slowly.
Taking her empty plate, I stacked it with mine and the discarded breakfast dishes before reaching for my fly.
She swallowed hard and shifted gingerly to her knees.
A flash of power shot down my legs.
I didn’t even have to ask. Didn’t even have to hint. She’d obeyed wordlessly and completely.
Fuck, if that wasn’t the headiest trip she could gift.
I wanted to bask in that. To prove to myself how far I’d come. To imprint this moment so the darkness and its nightmares could never find me.
Dropping my hands from my crotch, keeping my fingers far away from my disgusting cock, I toyed with her. I dragged out the anticipation. I made her frown in confusion and rock back on her heels in worry.
“You...you don’t want me?”
I tilted my head. “Pretty sure you can see for yourself that I do.” My trousers hadn’t dropped their tent since I’d walked into this damn basement.
Fable of Happiness Book One Page 10