The Arrangement 21

by H. M. Ward

  My heart is racing and my body flushes with heat. Something dark and delicious is swirling inside me. It toys with the idea of letting the veil drop, of letting Sean take me higher and letting go. To just feel good for a while would b—

  The thought is cut off when I notice his breath on my inner thigh. A moment later his face is pressing against my lower lips and his tongue sweeps between them, licking me with one wet sweep. I shudder and call out to him. I always want to touch him when he does that. My hands don't want to stay on the wall.

  There's a sharp sting on my left butt cheek. He flicked me with something. It felt like hard fabric—a piece of leather? "Hands on the wall, high above your head. Lean forward, baby."

  I do as he says, and realize as I lean forward, my back curves and forces my ass out. He's there again, between my legs, kissing me in places that make it difficult to stand. His rhythmic licks steal my breath, and when he presses his tongue deep within me, I wish I had something to grip. I clutch the wall and try so hard not to move, but I want to grind against his face. I want to feel my body become one with his, tensing around him over and over again.

  I gasp his name and his tongue changes rhythm, does something else that makes my eyes close and my breath hitch. He likes to watch, to see what he does to me.

  I finally understand his draw to the tank.

  Sean brings me close to the edge but doesn't push me over. He stands at my back again, trailing kisses across the rises and falls of my body. He finds another spot that makes me breathless. My knees tremble, and his leg juts out, catching me. I grind against his knee as he kisses my back. His hands move up toward my breasts, and he holds them, stroking my taut nipples gradually. He teases them into erotic twin peaks, pleasuring me in ways I have no words to describe

  My head tips to the side as the rest of my thoughts fade away. He lifts his head and trails kisses back to that mind-numbing slut button on my neck. I don't care this time. I don't fight him for control. His hands roam over my body as his lips press against that pulse point. The lusty fog clouds my mind again, rolling in low and filling the space, obscuring everything else.

  I let it overtake me. I stop fighting against the feelings Sean's trying to show me. I go limp in his arms as my last bit of logic leaves my body. I can't see, I only feel. The V at the top of my legs is hot, pulsing, begging for things he hasn't offered. My lips swell as I consider turning and falling to my knees, and taking him in my mouth, sucking him as his hard length passes over my lips again and again. I want to taste him, to feel that hot, sweet part of him fill my mouth and drip down my throat.

  Before I can do any of that, he sweeps me up in his arms and walks me across the room. I hang my head back, dangling it from his arm, not caring where we're going as long as he's with me. The terror that box inspired tries to break through, but I'm too far gone to care.

  He sets me down, pressing against me until I step back. Cold bracelets close around my wrists. They're thick, and I know where I am, but I can't picture how he put me in that cell. Another strap closes around my throat, and the last is a belt around my waist. Panic begins to seep back through and it’s as if Sean senses it. He presses his body to mine, and I can feel how hard he is, how much he wants me. He whispers in my ear, "Trust me, Avery. Let go, and stay there. Control your fear."

  Then he's gone. Something cold presses against my breasts, belly, and thighs as I hear a latch click shut. I breathe in sharply, tensing as the sound of water follows. It comes from above, dripping over my face in a thin stream, while also flowing up from below, the warm water around my ankles rising evenly.

  The air is stagnant, and I know the box is closed. The only air comes in from the top where I saw the holes earlier. I flex my hands, stretching my fingers as water trickles down my fingertips and splashes into the rising waters below.

  It's my nightmare, the one where I drown. The water from above trickles over my mouth streaming from side to side, making it feel like there's not enough air as the box fills from below. The level is still rising, passing my knees and bypassing places pressed painfully against the transparent walls.

  He's watching. Sean is sitting there observing me, waiting for me to scream, to beg him to save me. At least, I think he is, unless he's got something worse planned.

  My pulse races as I thrash my head from side to side, trying to avoid the water rolling down my face in sheets. I gasp and pull at the restraints on my wrists. I don't want to remember the one around my neck. I don't want to think about how it feels like a hand crushing my throat even though it's not.

  The water level passes my breasts and then swallows my body up to my shoulders. As it creeps up my neck, I try to go slack. I try to lose myself in the lusty thoughts that filled my mind before, but I can't. The blindfold is soaking wet, and I can see through the fabric. There's a dark outline of a man sitting before me, watching me. He's blurred, but all the same, I know he's there. Just like I can feel how close my face is to the glass, how my warm breath rolls back over me every time I exhale. The water creeps up my neck like a noose, rising, creeping closer to my lips. I need to scream, but I don't.

  When the water licks my chin, I lose it. I pull against the neck restraint, but I can't move. He's not going to stop it. The water will keep rising. He's going to hold me underwater. A scream rips from within and pierces the room, echoing off the empty walls. Frantically, I pull trying to free myself, and only manage to make my throat hurt.

  As the water rises higher, I tip my head back, but there's no room. It barely moves. The water line is at my lower lip threatening to spill into my lungs and drown me. Sean moves. He rises and walks toward the crate. The water stops rising, but the bindings suddenly tighten. My chin lowers and the water rises to my nose. I can't move. I can't scream.

  My hands flail in vain, unable to escape. Panic widens my eyes as the water suddenly gushes over my head. My hair lifts and I hold my breath. I'm a mess of terror and lust, and my body no longer responds to me. It strains against the bindings, trying to save itself.

  I still when I feel him slide against me, his warm body somehow in the tube with me, pressing firmly against my body. His hard length scrapes against my stomach until he lands his feet on the floor of the cube.

  My lungs are burning so terribly I'm ready to suck in water when it quickly vanishes. I'm left tethered to cold hard plastic, unable to move anything except my feet.

  When the water's gone, I try to cough and scream, but his lips are there, on mine. He shoves his knee between my legs, parting my thighs before taking me by my hips so that I'm straddling him. As his lips work my mouth, he pushes inside of me. He's hot and hard. He doesn't ask or wait. He doesn't do anything except fuck me hard.

  I hate not being able to move and I still feel choked. I'm dripping, and so is he as he pushes into me over and over again. I'm furious and fearful, but what shocks me is the sensation building beneath the rage. I'm a wet doll, tied in place, but every time he pulls out, I want him back. My heels lock behind his back and I make a high-pitched protest.

  I touch my hand to the wall, steadying myself as every part of me trembles with lust, wanting more. There's nothing else, only him and me. I push my hips against him, saying things I'd never admit I said, begging him to do things to me I had no idea I wanted.

  He spreads his hands on either side of my head and rips off my blindfold with his teeth. "I want to watch you come."

  His eyes reflect a tortured animal, one that never touches, never trusts. He's been hurt too many times, too deeply. He chains his prey up to keep her from giving affection. He doesn't want her that way.

  Sean stills and begins to grind into me in a circular motion that makes me want more. "Don't stop," I beg, my voice breathless.

  He doesn't. I close my eyes and let him finish me off, gyrating that huge cock deep inside me, pressing it harder and faster, penetrating every part of me until the tension building inside me releases. He stills, hangs his head back and feels me coming. The hard pulsing
doesn't stop right away, and before it can slow, he's fucking me again.

  I don't have a chance to come off my high. I don't have a chance to collect my shattered pieces. Instead, he takes me higher, pumping into me as his lips find that spot on my neck. The world goes white. Whatever lusty fog crept in before isn't the same as this. I'm lost, completely gone. I don't fight the bindings. I like them. As he pushes into me deeper, pressing his shaft against my delicate nub of flesh as he slides slowly in and out, slowly, exquisitely, I feel like an animal. It's horrifying and freeing.

  I beg him to take me in every way possible. I describe what I want him to do to me, and how desperately I want it. While I speak my breasts become tender, aching with need. I tell him to suck me there, to drag his teeth along my skin and nip me. I want more. I need him more than air, more than light. The darkness that was crushing me is gone, and I'm his alone. I want to be used and fucked until I can't stay awake. And then I want more.

  Sean comes up for air, breathless, and dripping with water. "I knew you'd like a collar. Tell me what you want, baby."

  "I want you, all of you. Now. Come inside of me, fill my mouth. Let me suck you."

  He listens and then silences me with his mouth. He doesn't do what I want, which makes me beg more when he steps away. His body is glistening, and I want to touch him, dig my nails into his chest and pull down hard. I want to hear him scream my name and beg for more. He sees it in my eyes and grins at me.

  "Cum slut."

  The corners of my mouth twitch. "If you ever mention this, I'll deny it."

  "I don't care if you admit it or not, as long as you know how much you want it—how much you want me like this." He pulls over a small table that was at the far end of the room and climbs on it. His dick is so close to my face. I open my mouth and try to take it in, but he doesn't let me.

  Instead, he remains just out of reach. I pout and watch him as he pulls something out of the drawer—oil. He rubs it on his shaft, taking it in his hand and pumping his hand up and down.

  Sean lowers himself slightly and reaches for my breasts. He holds them together as he pushes his hard length between. He slides between my girls repeatedly as his fingers tighten around my nipples, teasing them. Sean dips his head back and makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat. He's so hard, so close.

  More things, more requests I thought I'd never say. "Come on me, and then feed it to me. I want to taste you when you're done."

  He doesn't say anything, he just does it. Sean forces his dick between my breasts hard and fast, fucking my girls hard. He shudders, and I feel the warm trail of sweetness as he slows his hips, pressing into me one last time, covering me in him.

  Breathless, he rises to his knees and holds himself out to me. I can't quite reach. He does it on purpose—he must. He moves his wet cock along my lips, watching me as I struggle against the collar, trying to take him in my mouth. He finally pushes himself between my lips and moans.

  I'm engulfed by sensations and emotions so intense I wish my hands were free so I could worship his dick the way I want. It's perfection, smooth and hardening again with every flick of my tongue. He growls, gripping both sides of my head. He presses himself over my lips and down my throat, moaning my name, saying how sexy I am for taking the length of him at once. Every last inch of him is in my mouth, tip to base. I stroke him with my tongue and he rocks into my face, fucking me the way I wanted.

  As he grows harder, he gets thicker, longer. His thrusts become more forceful and I want him to do it. I want all of him, nothing held back. He pounds into me three times, then holds his cock in place. He gasps, and his voice is liquid sex. "I can't believe you did this to me."

  I feel the pulsing, and he pulls back. I suck hard to keep him there, wanting more. Sean slides the tip of his dick over my lips, pushing it into my mouth, and I suck hard, trying to pull him all the way in before he pulls out again. He makes a sexy sigh of resignation and holds my face, pumping into me, pushing all the way in until I feel him pulsing and coming in my mouth. I suck him savagely, milking every last drop from him, and when he pulls away, I lick my lips.

  Sean leans on his side, gasping, covered in sweat. "Oh my God, Avery. I never—" He flops down on his back and covers his face with his arm, still breathing hard. "God, that was amazing."

  CHAPTER 10

  Morning comes and goes. Sean is asleep next to me in the blood-colored bedroom once again. We planned to stay up last night, wearing ourselves out until we passed out this morning in order to sleep before tonight. The thing is, I can't sleep. There are no nightmares. I just can't doze off. I lie here, staring at the ceiling, wondering about everything.

  Like Henry. He was such a great guy when I met him. I wonder which version of him is real, the dashing English nobleman or Jack the Ripper. Maybe he was high or something the night he went nuts on me? His intolerance of Sean is obvious, regardless of everything else.

  Why do I care if he's a good guy or a bad guy? I'm with Sean.

  It's not about that. Thoughts start to simmer at the back of my mind. They have no words yet, no pictures to help me discover what I'm thinking. Then there's a bubble of truth—it's about you, Avery. Then another—picking paths. Soon the pot is boiling, and I can't stop it. My mind wraps around the hot pot with nothing to keep it from searing my skin. My heart pounds harder and my breathing shallows. Suddenly it's too hot, and I don't want to think about it anymore. But the thought is still there, plain as a black mark on a white page.

  Vic Jr., my brother, had to start somewhere. People aren't born evil.

  Constance. Sean's mother, she had to be kind as a girl. People choose paths.

  Mom. The woman I knew wouldn't be in bed with a guy like that, never mind everything else. I didn't know her as well as I thought. I faulted her for things I was clueless about.

  Sean. The man sleeping next to me was once a wide-eyed little boy with no nefarious thoughts at all.

  Mel. Surviving justifies anything.

  Isn't that what they all have in common? Isn't that why I feel an anxiety attack ready to bop me in the back of the head like a two by four? Because it's not just them and they didn't do this to me, to my life—I did. I made my choices, and I have to live with the consequences. Trying to outrun them turns people cold, like Constance. Reveling in it leads down my brother's path. He's a bloodthirsty nut. If he had a brother instead of a sister, I doubt incest would be on his mind. Or necrophilia. Maybe it would be. Sex is power, and that guy is power thirsty. He'd do anything and everything to get it. I shudder under the blankets even though the room is warm.

  It's past noon. I can tell from the way the light cuts through the center of the drapes, casting a long golden slab of light on the dark carpet.

  I watch Sean for a moment and want to ask him where he was the night he came back covered in blood, what he did, but I know better. Leave the past in the past. Bury it and walk away.

  There's a problem with that theory of dealing with life. Inner conflicts, thoughts, and actions never shown the light of day have a way of turning into something dark and despicable in the shadows. Demons will kill you faster than anything else. I have a hissing gaggle of them following me around, waiting for me to crack—that thought terrifies me most—because I know who I'll become.

  CHAPTER 11

  I have on a pair of sweats I found in the closet. I don't want to ponder on the size of the women's clothing or that tank. It's like Henry stocked his house with Avery-sized things. I shake my head and banish the thought.

  Good people can do bad things. I already have, but if things get out of hand tonight, can I do what I need to do? Can I execute the Plan B Mel and I created? Can I deviate to my own sick, twisted plan and end this once and for all?

  Vic isn't only aiming for me. He's got sights on Sean, his brothers, Mel, Marty, Henry, and even Gabe. Memories of the gruff old man pass behind my eyes as I wander the empty house. He told me so many times to get away from Black. She's the one who started this. Sh
e's the one who moved from selling sex to selling murder. I blame her, but she's a distraction. She needed Vic to pull this off. If we take him down, that'll end it.

  If I take Black out, too—I cut off both heads. I'm not new here, I know the heads will just grow back, but it'll take time. In the meantime, everyone in New York with a price on their head can breathe easy, their debts forgiven.

  I'm walking along an upper corridor with a cup of coffee in my hands. My hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and I'm barefoot. I sip the cup as I stare at the madness on the walls. Henry's infatuation with Henry VIII is concerning. This particular passage shows his timeline, from young boy, to idyllic young king, to insanity. He took what he wanted and left a path of carnage in his wake. He killed his best friends and advisors—and, of course, his wives. I knew he killed them to bypass the divorce issue, as if that justifies murder, but I didn't understand the accusations. As I travel down the hall, I see the list of crimes and cringe. I wonder if the king himself thought up those charges or if the power hungry people around him did it. Either way, this wall shows a good man's descent into Hell.

  I wonder what my wall will include.

  "Avery?" Marty's voice is soft, as if he didn't mean to startle me. I turn and almost don't recognize him. His head is shaved, and there's a gash on his temple with fresh sutures. He's wearing black cargo pants and a dark gray shirt with something resembling Kevlar woven into the fabric over his chest and torso. "I didn't know you were up."

  My eyes go wide, and I rush him, yelling a million things at once. "Where were you? I thought you were dead!" I crash into him and pound my fists on his chest. It feels like he's back from the dead. I didn't even want to think about where he's been.

  Marty stands there like I'm some crazy girl he ran into at the mall, as if I shouldn't be upset. "I'm here now."

  I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat and slam both palms on his chest. "Where were you? Don't do that to me, again." I deflate and suck in a sharp breath, and step away another pace.