Heartless: Merciless Book 2

by Winters, W.

  With lack of sleep, she’s slow to move, but she does. Sitting up on her knees she faces me, waiting for whatever it is that I have to say.

  It’s funny to me how she says when she’s with me she forgets, and life is easier.

  When I’m with her it’s the same until she asks questions, and then I remember everything.

  “It’s time for the question game again,” I tell her, and she drops the pen, letting it roll off her thigh and onto the floor. The frown that’s marred her tired expression all day stays in place.

  “It feels like forever since we’ve played this game,” she says absently. Her tone, her body language, everything about it is off today. It feels dampened, depressed even. More so than I’ve seen her before.

  Clearing the tension in my throat and letting my hands clench and unclench I remind her, “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve been out of your cell.”

  A smirk tips her beautiful lips up and she stares at me as if defying the fact. “I said it feels like it’s been forever… there’s a difference.”

  Her soft gaze trails across the sofa and then back to me. “Am I staying here?”

  “You can move wherever you’d like.”

  “You haven’t come near me today like you usually do,” she comments and my gaze narrows at her. I recount the day and each and every time she’s come to me. The thrill of her choosing to approach me is dulled by the fact that she realizes things have changed between us.

  I search her expression for what she’s thinking. For a hint as to how this will modify her behavior. But I can’t predict her. Not when it comes to what’s between us. And thus, it’s time for me to question her, to try to gauge what she’s thinking based on her own questions.

  “That’s not a question,” is my only reply to her.

  She shrugs as if it doesn’t matter, and tension spreads through my jaw. “It wasn’t my turn to ask,” she says simply with a calmness in her voice that only increases the strain.

  Be gentle with her. I remind myself again.

  Jase offers me a lot of advice though, and my typical response is for him to fuck off. Aria watches me as I walk to the sofa and take a seat on the right side. She decides not to move from her place, but she adjusts to sit cross-legged.

  There’s a sudden crackle from the fire and she barely acknowledges it. Just like the tension between us.

  “How are you feeling today?” I ask her and tell myself it’s because I want to get into her head, not because the last twenty-four hours have changed everything.

  “Tired,” she tells me and the small bit of strength she’s shown since I’ve walked in wanes. She picks at the fuzz on the rug beneath her and answers with a catch in her throat, “I don’t know how to feel right now. There’s so much…” her voice trails off and I ask her, “So much what?”

  The smirk on her face is nothing but fragile as she asks back, “Isn’t it my turn?” The walls around her are toppling down. I can see it. I can feel it. She’s too weak to hold them up any longer, but the girl beneath them isn’t what I imagined. She’s a girl who’s been left alone far too long. A girl who should never have been left alone at all.

  And the realization tugs at me like nothing else ever has.

  I force my lips into a straight line and give her a small nod.

  “Why did you do it?” she asks me in a whisper. Still picking at the imaginary fuzz and only glancing at me occasionally. As if she’s afraid to catch my gaze and see something there that could ruin her.

  “Do what?” I ask her, although I already know what she’s referring to.

  Why did I bring her to the dinner? Give her a knife. And let her kill the man who’s hurt her so cruelly.

  “Why did you… give me the knife?” she finally asks, and her words are twisted and tortured. As tortured as she’s been all of today and last night.

  “Why did I let you kill him?” I clarify for her, making her come to terms with the truth. She sucks in a heavy breath and pushes the hair from her face as I speak. “Why did I give you a knife so you could kill Alexander Stephan?”

  The sofa groans and the fire hisses as I sit back and release what sounds like an easy breath. “Because I wanted you to do it,” I tell her and almost elaborate, but the sarcastic huff that spills from her lips as she looks away from me and toward the door stops me from giving her more.

  “What did you dream of last night?” I ask her, and I can’t help that my body leans forward, eager for her reply. She hasn’t been forthcoming, but she always answers me when I give her the opportunity to ask whatever she’d like.

  She licks her lower lip, still shaking her head from my non-answer.

  “Dreams,” she answers with a hint of indignation in her retort. The words I wanted to speak moments before nearly come to life, but then she adds, “I dreamed lots of dreams,” shaking her head with the smallest of movements. Her voice is small, and she speaks as if she’s not even talking to me.

  Like she’s validating what she saw with herself.

  “It was like my life sped forward in the form of the dreams I had growing up.”

  My brow furrows as I listen to her. I expected it to be only nightmares with the way she screamed. The memory of her shrill screams and the terror of her cries sends a bite of cold down my back that slowly rolls through every limb.

  I couldn’t do anything but listen to her and I’ve never regretted a damn thing in my life as much as I regretted giving her that knife like I did last night while she screamed.

  Licking her lips, she continues and then that crease in her forehead returns as she looks at me. “And then I dreamed of the night he killed her.”

  My head nods on its own. I knew to expect it, that seeing him would elicit those fears for her, but I expected her to be different after she killed him. For the realization that he’s dead, to free her in a way she could never be while he was allowed to live.

  Give it time, the voice hisses again and the irritation I have for it shows on my face, silencing Aria.

  “You can keep going,” I tell her, fixing myself and then adding, “if you’d like.”

  But the moment has passed and instead she takes her turn.

  “Are things still the same?” she asks me.

  No. The answer is instant and obvious in my head. Strong enough that I feel the word echo through my veins. “Do they feel different?”

  “That’s not how this game is played,” Aria answers with the trace of a smirk on her face although the tiredness has never been so evident in her eyes as it is now. “I asked you first,” she tells me and waits for a reply.

  “Kneel,” I command her, wanting to prove that the power I held over her before is ever present. Even if the fear she held for me has vanished.

  The realization that is what’s different sends a spike of regret through me, but it’s fleeting. I harden my voice as I tell her again, “Kneel and then ask me if things have changed.”

  The heat ignites in me as Aria narrows her gaze, the hazel reflecting the flickers of the flames that linger behind her in the fire.

  Her lips part and she squirms in her place, but as her eyes close, she only smiles at me while shaking her head.

  “I don’t want to,” she dares to defy me.

  My dick hardens instantly, but my knuckles turn white as I grip the arm of the sofa.

  Everything inside of me is at war. It seems fitting, since my little songbird seems to be in the same predicament. Her body begging to bend to my command, yet her strong will preventing her from giving in.

  “I don’t want to punish you today. Not when you need comfort. Don’t mistake my gift to you for anything other than what it was.” I push the words through clenched teeth, not wanting this tension between us to end. I love her fight. I love it, even more, when I can take it from her.

  “And what was it?” she asks me, her eyes sparking with the desire for the truth.

  The grin on my face grows as I realize she’s set me up, seeking the answer I
wouldn’t give her when she asked her first question. Why did I do it? The tension in my body eases slightly, although the thrill of punishing her is still ringing through me.

  “Taking away the fear you had, so I could end it and be the only thing you have left to fear.”

  “I think you’re lying,” she bites back although her voice is teasing, sensual even. Not believing me for a moment. Her gaze doesn’t waver as she challenges me. I love that she knows better, but if she knew the power she had over me, I could lose everything. She’s still loyal to the enemy. There’s no denying that.

  The thought makes my gaze drop to the fire behind her and it only returns to her when she adds, “But I don’t know why you’re lying to me.”

  “Because you don’t need to know,” I tell her simply and at first her lips part, ready to tell me off, but then she questions herself.

  “You’re biting your tongue so hard that I imagine you can taste blood,” I point out and try to force a smirk to my lips.

  “I’ve asked you two questions and you haven’t answered either truthfully,” she tells me and then glances at the fire behind her. “What’s the point?” she asks no one in particular with a faint whisper.

  “Maybe you’re asking the wrong questions,” I offer her although my entire body is alive with fire. Yesterday was hard on her and she performed exactly as I wanted, but her defiance today is uncontained, and I have no idea how to handle her. Not when she needs me to give her comfort. I wish I’d had her when I was in this same position years ago.

  Even knowing that I’ve had enough of her insolence.

  Those hazel eyes pierce through me at that moment, as if she heard my thoughts. The turmoil inside me twists into a knot until she asks the one question that solidifies my decision to leave her on her own for a few hours, so she can feel the need for me once again.

  “Are you still going to let him kill my father?” she asks me. Her voice is steady, with maybe even a hint of provocation there.

  Let him.

  Let Romano.

  She doesn’t know that if I could do it myself, I would. If I could be the man to pull the trigger, I’d do it without a second thought.

  The silence is only broken by the burning wood, now cracking and hissing. As our conversation continued, the sun has set and with the dimming light from the windows, shadows play along Aria’s small form.

  “I have to go out tonight.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” she’s quick to reply, not taking her gaze from me.

  “The game is over.” My voice hardens, the anger pushing through.

  She is mine. She will obey. Or I will risk everything to reign over her. There is no question in my mind what will happen if she doesn’t take her place beside me.

  “How convenient,” she responds and that’s when I meet my limit. There’s only so much she can push.

  It only takes three large steps until I’m towering over her. One swift motion and my hand is around her throat. My fingers press against the pulse in her veins as her fingers wrap around my hand. Her eyes widen but not with fear, not even with shock. They widen with hate, with anger… They widen with a spark of fight that rivals the roaring fire behind her.

  She’s never looked more beautiful to me than she does now.

  Her nails dig into my skin, but she doesn’t pry them away. She just wants to hurt me. She wants to show me what she’s capable of.

  Oh, songbird, I already know. She’s the one who’s only just now realizing what she’s capable of.

  I lower my lips to hers, deliberately placing a knee between her thighs. Invading every inch of space that separates us.

  With the heat of the fire igniting the tension, I whisper against her cheek, “You’ve forgotten your manners, Aria.”

  “Manners,” she bites out as if the word disgusts her and with the small bit of movement, I squeeze a little tighter. She can breathe, she can speak, but my grip on her is unyielding.

  My other hand roams her body, drifting down her waist as I nip along her shoulder and then the fleshy bit of her earlobe. My fingers trace down her thigh and then back up, pulling up her skirt as I move back toward her waist until I let my fingers slide to her inner thigh.

  And she moans.

  She fucking moans, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back slightly. Even with the fight in her, she craves pleasure more than anything.

  “What should your punishment be, songbird?” I whisper against the shell of her ear. The shiver that it ignites in her makes my dick harden to the point that it’s painful not to thrust inside of her.

  Her answer is a muted moan followed by an attempt to swallow. I don’t loosen my grip to aid her; instead, I force her to look at me, to open her eyes and answer me.

  “How should I punish this mouth of yours?” I ask her in a low and deep voice, not bothering to contain my desire for her.

  “Fuck you,” she barely pushes out and then licks her lower lip. Ever the defiant one.

  “You would love that, wouldn’t you?” I whisper against her lips, letting the words mingle with the heat from the fire and the lust between us.

  Her hazel-green eyes swirl with a concoction of everything I know she’s feeling. The anger and fear, but more than anything, the longing to be pleasured and cared for.

  “Get on your back so I can play with your cunt,” I command her the moment my fingers loosen on her throat, nearly making her fall backward. But she catches herself, then lies down as I told her to, one elbow at a time, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “You obey so easily when you know you’re going to get off, don’t you?” I toy with her and the hint of a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. Her intuition will be our downfall. She thinks she knows who she’s playing with. But she doesn’t realize what’s at stake.

  A gentle push on the inside of her thighs has her pulling them apart for me. My pointer trails up the thin black lace of her panties, dampened at her core with her arousal, and then to her swollen clit. Her head falls back, and her nails dig into the threads of the rug as she attempts to hold back the moan that threatens to spill from her lips. I can already hear it though. She’s so fucking close. So in need.

  “You need to get off. I should have done it last night.”

  The lace tears easily as I hook my thumb through it, ripping it from her sweet cunt to give me full access to her. With a quick intake of air, she lifts her head to watch me.

  All that anger means nothing when I can give her this.

  I shove two fingers inside her ruthlessly. Her hips buck and her lower back comes off the floor with the sensation it elicits.

  I splay my other hand across her belly and push her back down, not stopping the brutal strokes against the ridges of her front wall.

  Her head thrashes and she bites her lip. “Fuck,” she says but her plea is only a whimper. Her fingers move to my hand on her belly and then up my forearm. Never stopping, pulling, and searching for something to hold on to.

  “Let go,” I tell her and for a moment she lets go of my arm, but that’s not what I meant. “Give me your pleasure. Let go of everything holding you back from falling,” I whisper in the air above her as I watch the light dance across her face. Her lips are parted and make a perfect O although her forehead is scrunched with the strain of holding back her strangled cries of pleasure.

  The scent of her arousal permeates the air and precum leaks from my dick, begging me to slam inside of her.

  With my cock pressed against my zipper, I finger fuck her furiously, pushing a third finger inside of her and my thumb against her clit. “I’m not going to stop until you cum on my hand, Aria. I’ll fuck you like this until you can’t think straight if you don’t give me what I want.”

  Her head thrashes from side to side and then her back bows. I have to push harder with my hand on her hip to keep her down and strum her faster.

  “You want another finger?” I ask her and then kiss the inside of her knee. She’s so fucking ti
ght I don’t think I could though. It’s an idle threat, but the idea of stretching her to the point where I could fist her cunt and give her undeniable pleasures she’s never felt, has my hand moving harder and faster in unrelenting strokes and I don’t stop.

  Even as she cries out my name.

  Even as her pussy spasms.

  Her body rocks with the force of her orgasm and I don’t stop, drawing it out and taking every bit of pleasure from her that I can.

  It’s not until her breath comes back to her and her eyes find mine that I pull away, sucking each of my fingers while she watches.

  “Your cunt is so fucking sweet,” I tell her and watch her reddened cheeks blush even more violently.

  “I’m growing to love your punishments,” she says breathily with her eyes closed and the power I feel vanishes. My dick, still pulsing with need, begs me to push her onto her stomach and rut between her legs. She’d cum again. And again.

  The worst thing a man of power can do is to issue a false threat. Yet, I’ve done it with Aria. More than once.

  My goal isn’t to punish her though; I only want her to obey.

  Just as I begin to unbutton my pants, my phone vibrates in my pocket, the timer going off.

  Time is up.

  With her eyes closed and an angelic look of content on her face, I question leaving her, but I have to.

  “Clean up and make yourself dinner.” I stifle a groan as I stand, hating that I won’t be able to get lost in her touch for hours.

  “I’ll be back later.” I give her the parting words and start to leave. Each movement makes my hard cock ache even worse, but I’ll have her tonight.

  “Carter?” Aria’s soft voice cuts through the air and stops me just as I’ve started to leave.

  “How long will you be gone?” Traces of fear and loneliness linger on her question. This is the new side of her I’m not used to.

  The side I’ve only seen since last night. Back to being the girl behind the broken wall instead of the woman who’s angry at being left alone for so long.