Angel (A Companion Book to Monster) (Impossible #1.5)

by Sykes, Julia

  Her cheeks flamed scarlet as she tried to cover herself with the tattered remnants of her camisole. I had to fight back the sick impulse to order her not to hide her body from me.

  The threat of fresh tears made her eyes shine. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  She was apologizing to me? God, was her deference already becoming that ingrained? My stomach roiled at the evidence of how I had perverted her.

  “You’re sorry,” I echoed hollowly, disgusted. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her any longer, to be tormented by the sight of how I had despoiled her. “Maybe it’s better if you aren’t in here with me,” I told her.

  Fear flashed across her features. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t.”

  I realized that she was afraid that I intended to leave her in Bradley’s care. The fact that she could ever think that I would leave her at his mercy just proved that her need for me was a product of her terror, not her trust.

  It was a struggle to move away from her, as though my limbs had suddenly turned leaden. It took all of my strength to walk away.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice detached, deadened rather than reassuring. “I’m going to stay on the couch.”

  I left my bedroom, hating myself more than ever when I slid the lock home behind me, trapping her in her cell.

  It turned out that solitary confinement would be much better for her than being trapped with me.

  I barely slept that night. Not only was the couch about two feet too short for me to stretch out properly, but I was haunted by what I had done to Claudia. I couldn’t stop turning everything over in my mind: the trust in her eyes, her beautiful submission, her hurt and disappointment when I pulled away from her.

  These thoughts continued to plague me the next day. I had known since the very beginning that she was attracted to me. Was it possible that she actually wanted what I had to offer her? Was her surrender a product of her warped situation, or would she desire me regardless of the circumstances? I wondered what we might have had if we had met in real life rather than being thrown together in this clusterfuck.

  But the reality of it was that I never would have met her if not for Bradley’s rash decision to abduct her. We came from different worlds, and the likelihood of our paths crossing was slim to none. And even if we had met, her impenetrable walls and my cocksure mask would have prevented us from connecting, from recognizing just how similar we were in the ways that mattered most.

  When I thought of it in those terms, I couldn’t bring myself to truly regret having forcibly kept her in my life. I was better for having known her; she made me want to be better.

  And even knowing how much pain and turmoil I had caused her, I recognized that she was better for having known me. The life that she had been leading hadn’t really been a life at all. Facing her demons might cause her anguish, but at least she was feeling something.

  At the end of the day, the harsh reality of our situation was unalterable. If I freed her, she would likely be dead in a matter of days. No way was I going to allow that to happen. We were stuck with one another. Would it really be so wrong if we built a life together?

  I had been desperately trying to maintain control, to take full responsibility for the nature of our relationship. But it occurred to me now that I had never once asked Claudia what she wanted. I had flirted with her, toyed with her, questioned her, and seduced her as my ever-changing resolutions as to how to treat her no doubt caused her to feel utterly powerless. She deserved a say in this. I was going to sit down with her and explain our options.

  But I had remained on the couch all morning. If I went to her, I would have to lay it all out on the table. Admitting my feelings for her would be difficult enough, but explaining my perversions to her was going to be horrific.

  She had enjoyed my dominance of her body; her submissive reactions were instinctive and lustful. But a little manhandling and a few barked orders were just the tip of the deeply depraved iceberg. Given her inexperience, I had no doubt that she was completely oblivious to the sexual extremes that I preferred, that I craved.

  She deserved to be fully informed before making any decisions about how she wanted to move forward with our relationship, but I could be vague on the more deviant details. So long as I impressed upon her that my needs were probably more extreme than what she was willing to explore, then the rest could be slowly revealed over time. If she chose to accept me.

  Our relationship? I thought derisively. What kind of relationship was based on the fact that one partner couldn’t escape the other?

  An abusive one, I admitted the truth to myself.

  But I had run out of options, and this was the best solution that I could come up with. After I talked with her, I would allow her to stipulate the terms of our interactions.

  The Dominant in me bristled at the idea of giving her that kind of power over me, but it was that side of me that had caused me to fuck up again and again when it came to her.

  It was getting late in the day, and Claudia was probably hungry. I couldn’t put this off any longer. Bracing myself, I strode towards my bedroom, moving quickly so that I didn’t have time to change my mind. I threw back the lock and opened the door without knocking.

  “Claudia, did you want-”

  The words died in my throat as I took in the horrific scene before me. I blinked hard, sure that what I was seeing couldn’t be real. But her shocked, guilty expression assured me that it was no fantasy.

  Anger seared my insides at the sight of her crouching by the dresser. The bottom drawer that held all of the evidence of my perversions was wide open, its sordid contents revealed to her. And her slender fingers were wrapped around my crop. It took all of my willpower to stop myself from ripping it from her hands, restraining her to my bed, and giving her a first-hand demonstration of its harsh sting. Surely that would sate the curiosity that had driven her to violate my privacy. I couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment.

  “Sean.” She gasped my name, and the crop fell from her fingers. That was just as well for her, because the sight of her touching it when I was the only one meant to wield it almost drove me over the brink. As it was, I was dangerously close to succumbing to the insanity that only she could elicit from me.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snarled as I advanced on her. She tried to shrink away from me, but I showed her no mercy. I grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to her feet. My hands closed around her upper arms, trapping her in my grip.

  “That’s private,” I growled, shaking her slightly. “How did you open that drawer, Claudia?” I demanded furiously. That drawer didn’t just stick; I was locked. I knew because I had designed it that way for the express purpose of concealing the tools of my depravity, only accessing them when I had a willing, like-minded partner.

  “I…” Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she searched for the words to answer me.

  But I wasn’t going to allow her the time to come up with some fabrication. I shook her again, harder this time. “How?!”

  “My hairpins,” the admission tumbled from her lips. “I picked the lock.”

  Impossibly, my fury ratcheted up another notch as I realized her deception with cold clarity.

  “You lied to me.” It was a statement, not a question. “That’s how you escaped. Isn’t it?”

  I didn’t need her answer to know the truth. She had deliberately deceived me, had made me think that her decision to run from me was the understandable action of a captive seizing the opportunity for freedom when her jailors made a mistake. But she had carefully planned her escape, had been intent on leaving me. I remembered my panic when I had realized that she was gone. And I recognized that my resultant madness had been largely caused by the depth of my hurt at her abandonment. I hadn’t been able to face the extent of my weakness when it came to my infatuation with her, so I had allowed the savagery in me to take over, overriding the sense of impotence that would have otherwise claimed me.

/>   “Y-yes,” she gasped, needlessly confirming what I already knew. Fear was etched in every line of her delicate face, but it wasn’t enough to soften my heart, to save her from my retribution. “Sean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

  My harsh laugh was cold and devoid of any humor. “You what? You didn’t mean to pick the lock? You did it by accident?”

  “Look,” she said desperately, her gaze darting to the perverted evidence of the secret that she had so callously uncovered. “I don’t mind. It’s okay.”

  “It’s okay?” I barked. I wasn’t sure if I was more furious at her violation of my privacy or at her blasé description of her reaction to what she had discovered. I would have expected her horror or even disgust. The sight of it would have pained me, but I would have been able to understand that.

  What threw me, what pushed me over the edge, was the interest that sparkled through the fear in her eyes.

  There was no going back after that. She had sealed her fate with that one look. Her submissive reactions to me hadn’t been a result of the changes that her captivity had wrought in her. I could understand if her surrender to me had been a product of her unstated lust slowly deteriorating her resistance to my advances. But to show nothing but curiosity when faced with such tools of depravity? That wasn’t the reaction of a woman who feared sexual violation or manipulation. It was the reaction of a woman who craved it.

  This new knowledge overshadowed my resolution to calmly discuss our options when it came to our physical relationship. I had most feared having to tell her about my dark desires, and now they were all laid out before her without me having to say a word. The overwhelming sense of relief brought on by her look of interest rather than revulsion rendered me incapable of resisting the temptation to use her body as I had always truly desired.

  I shoved her shoulders so that she fell back onto the bed, knowing that the sensation of falling would disorient her. Before she could gather her wits about her, I gripped her hips firmly, lifting her up as I seated myself on the edge of the bed. Within seconds, she was draped face-down across my lap.

  “Is this okay?” My voice was roughened by the power of my residual anger and my growing lust. I had hardly dared to fantasize about having her in this position, ready to face my retribution for some transgression.

  And she had committed a transgression of such magnitude that she would feel pain beneath my hand before she was granted pleasure.

  My fingers tangled in her long, silken hair, and I pulled back sharply. Her body reacted just as I intended; my grip on her forced her head up, making her back arch so that her ass was offered up to me. Her gasp at the little zing of pain at her scalp was exquisite. With my free hand, I gripped her ass, squeezing just hard enough to hold her at the edge of pain, letting her know that she was completely at my mercy.

  “Is this what you want, Claudia? To be punished?” My tone was soft and dangerous, but this was about more than making her admit that she found pleasure in my domineering touch; I needed her consent before I continued, before I introduced her to my world of twisted carnal delights.

  She was quivering in my hold, her breathing turning shallow as lust claimed her. I knew her answer before she spoke.

  “Yes.”

  “You might regret saying that,” I informed her huskily.

  I prayed that she wouldn’t.

  Grasping the hem of her dress, I flipped it up so that it pooled at her lower back. I almost groaned at the sight of her white cotton panties. Usually I preferred women in the scantest scraps of lace, but the conservative underwear were a reminder of her innocence. I relished stripping it away as I shoved the panties down her thighs, exposing her.

  She squirmed against me, her embarrassment at being bared to me in this way making her body struggle instinctively. I tugged at her hair again, reinforcing that I had all the power now, and her body was mine to admire however and whenever I wanted.

  “What have I told you about staying still?” I demanded harshly, reminding her of my rules.

  She stilled instantly, and the way that her muscles remained taut with the effort of obeying my order was immensely satisfying.

  My grip on her ass eased, and I began to caress her cheeks, relishing the softness of her skin beneath my roughened palms. Her low moan gave voice to the acute need that I was awakening within her, and I thrilled at the evidence that she was thoroughly enjoying this forceful treatment.

  “Now, Claudia,” I began evenly, no longer allowing anger or desire to color my tone. Asserting my control over her had helped me to rein in my own wild emotions. I felt more centered, saner, than I had since she had first come into my life. This was what I needed from her. And it seemed that this was what she wanted from me. “I want you to remember that you asked for this, that you wanted to be punished,” I reminded her, placing emphasis on the last word so that she understood that this was a reprimand. It was meant for her benefit, but not for her pleasure. Not yet, at least. “You know that what you did was wrong, and you want me to discipline you. Don’t you?”

  She hesitated, and I could practically feel the wheels in her head turning as she began to over-think everything. If she second-guessed what she had agreed to now, I didn’t think that I would be able to handle it.

  “Don’t you?” I dug my fingers into her ass cheeks again, stalling her tangled thoughts, giving her a hint of pain in order to direct her focus back to me.

  She nodded jerkily in agreement, but I wasn’t satisfied with that. I wanted her full commitment.

  I tightened my grip on her, allowing my fingernails to press into her soft flesh. “I didn’t hear you,” I said softly, threateningly.

  “Yes,” she practically squealed. I was pushing her hard, and I was amazed that she wasn’t struggling against me in an effort to escape. Even if she didn’t consciously realize it, her body was obeying my order to remain still and compliant.

  I released her from my punishing hold and stroked her again in reward. “Good girl,” I praised.

  She wouldn’t be familiar with the way that I was treating her, but her body quivered in response to my positive reinforcement, clearly communicating that she was enjoying it. I had no doubt that those two words would have earned me a snappy retort under normal circumstances. But we were playing my game now, and when she was in my hands she was able to let her walls down as she surrendered to my control. Her submission allowed her to let go of the emotional burdens that weighed on her so heavily. And the reciprocal rush that I received was exactly what I needed to allay my hatred of my own weakness in all other aspects of my life.

  I allowed myself to savor the moment before I struck her for the first time, the moment after which everything between us would change. Sexually, the balance of power would be forever tipped in my favor; she would never be able to forget that after this. She would never want to.

  Her sharp, shocked cry in response to the first blow was sweet in my ears. I didn’t pause to let her catch her breath. When I brought my hand down on her for the second time, she tried to move away from me, to escape her punishment. I held her firmly in place with my grip on her hair, growling at her in warning, reminding her of my rules.

  She shuddered and went still, waiting for me to continue. Three would be enough. I worried that I might be pushing her too hard too soon, but the erotic whimper that escaped her at the third blow was mingled with a sensual moan. The pain wasn’t pleasant for her, but my mastery of her body satisfied her on a primal level.

  Her pale flesh had turned a beautiful shade of red, and I gently – almost reverently – traced my fingernails across the inflamed area, loving how the heat pulsed off of her to seep into my fingertips.

  All of the tension left her, and she went limp against me in response to my feather-light touch, a sensation that contrasted sharply with the sting of my palm.

  A devilish grin broke out on my face as I reached the upper curve of her cheeks. I touched my forefinger to the little patch of flesh where the crack of her
ass met her spine, wondering if anyone had ever explored this part of her before. Her shocked, delighted cry was all the answer I needed. I was the first to awaken this fresh source of pleasure.

  “Do you like this, Claudia?” I asked as I continued to stimulate her.

  She pursed her lips together, hesitating.

  “I don’t know,” she said after a moment.

  My touch moved to her inner thigh, and I coated my fingers in the wanton wetness that I found there. My cock strained against my jeans in response to the physical sign that betrayed her desire.

  “You might lie to me, Claudia, but your body doesn’t,” I informed her, my voice a low, satisfied rumble.

  Her whine was a sound of pure, unadulterated need, and yet she still didn’t move, didn’t grind her hips against my thigh to seek stimulation. She had suffered long enough, and she had thoroughly earned her release.

  I drove two fingers into her tight heat, and I was rewarded with her strangled, ecstatic cry. Despite the fact that her slick juices allowed me to slide in easily, I reminded myself that she hadn’t been penetrated by anyone in a very long time. I paused, waiting for her to relax around me. When some of the tightness had eased, I slowly pressed my fingers apart, stretching her. I wanted to be able to drive my cock into her roughly without worrying about damaging her. This was meant to prepare her as much as it was meant to pleasure her.

  She moaned, and her inner walls spasmed. I stilled my movements instantly, staving off her orgasm, making her wait. I wanted to hear her beg. And I wasn’t going to demand that she do so. She was going to plead with me of her own accord before I granted her release.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Please.” The word was ragged, desperate. Her recognition that she was completely reliant upon me for her pleasure proved the triumph of my will over hers. I hadn’t broken her, but I had defeated her.

  “Sean.” Her voice trembled slightly as she moaned my name.