by Lily White
I had to be quick about this. Hesitating would only get me killed.
Releasing the last breath I'd managed to drag into my chest, I thought about what this asshole had done to Joanna. I remembered the promise Ethan had made me about Melanie. Revenge for one, protection for the other. It was enough to blind me from emotion, to numb me until all I felt was cold fury.
Leaning to my left, I snatched the glass from the table. Standing before the man could grab me from behind, I turned and tossed the liquid.
I missed.
As the acid sank down into the thick, white bedspread, I lifted my gaze to where my attacker stood scowling, the corner of his lip kicking up to think I'd just thrown away my only weapon against him. Forcing myself not to look at the iron fire poker where it sat just behind his leg, I smiled up at the bastard, stepped back and spread out my arms to welcome him to take me.
He was stronger, so I had to be faster.
Silence was thick in the air as cameramen and sound technicians moved around the stage, another one holding a smaller camera in case he needed to run up here at the last second. I wouldn't give him the opportunity.
The beast approaching me pinned me beneath his dead, green stare. His chest was heaving, his hands clenching into fists. I knew all too well what those fists could do, so I went as still as possible, giving him just enough time to come around the other side of the bed, but not enough to get within grabbing distance. With the size of the stage, I had to be precise. Life or death could occur with even the slightest miscalculation of seconds.
Tick...tick...tick...
He stepped around the bed, and I attempted to jump forward over the mattress. I'd been half a second too late. Blinding pain burst over my ankle, a scream tearing from my throat that shredded the flesh in its path. The bastard had grabbed my ankle and twisted.
Kicking out with my other leg, I gripped my fingers into the blanket to keep from being dragged backwards. But for every defensive move I made, he only squeezed and twisted my ankle more. Whimpers were falling from my lips, dripping down to mingle with my tears now soaking the blanket beneath me.
Flipping me on my back, he smiled down at me, the expression all toothy and snarling. The smaller camera was suddenly in place beside me ready for a repeat of the moment my shirt was ripped away to expose my body.
Dragging me down the bed served to shove my shirt up so that everything below my ribs was exposed. The bastard’s large hand slid up my thigh, his eyes becoming wild as they locked to mine. I could hear the sound of the camera zooming in and didn't want to consider what part of my body was being filmed.
As his hand slid higher up my leg, his thumb hooked down to squeeze the muscle. Another scream tore from me, my hands clenching tighter in response. It wasn't until that thumb scraped against the most intimate part of me that more panic pulsed through my veins, conscious thought escaping me as instinct took over.
Fortunately, for me, the bastard wanted to gloat by leaning down to say something to me on a foreign tongue. I took the opportunity to raise a hand and use my fingers to gouge at his eye. He roared in response, but also released me.
One second ticked by. And another. Time moving so slow that I could count each beat of it while flipping to my stomach and rolling off the mattress to the other side of the stage. My ankle burned in protest, but I ignored the injury to wrap my hand around the handle of the fire poker. Its weight was heavy and cold against my palm.
I thought he would have to come around the bed or move over it, either path would give me the perfect moment to strike. Imagine my surprise when he simply wrapped a hand around one of the four wooden posts and shoved the bed to the side.
Eyes round as saucers, my brain shut off, forgetting to tell my lungs to breathe and my heart to pump blood. A chill coursed through me as he moved forward, the bitter burn of fear and anger finally snapping me out of the moment of shock and driving me forward.
The first hit was to the right side of his head, the aim of the swing perfect, but the strength used not enough to stop him. I swung again, this time knocking him back a step as he screamed at me in words I didn't understand. My next swing met with his face, blood splashing out to dot my skin.
He fell backwards, his body impacting the stage with his full weight. The boards rattled beneath me, but I stepped across him anyway and wouldn't stop roaring out my own rage while slamming the poker down until you could no longer identify his face.
My gorge rose as I stared at what I'd done, Ethan's deep voice behind me yelling, "Cut!"
EMMA
"Everybody out!" Ethan bellowed, the production crew scrambling to obey his command.
We were alone within minutes. Had a pin fallen to the ground, it would have sounded like a boulder in the quiet stillness of the room. Ethan stood staring at me. Unmoving, not even his eyes darted this way and that to search my face. They only pinned me in place, blazing with something I couldn't name and wasn't sure I wanted to name. Whatever it was nodded to the same thing inside me, reaching out like two twin souls finally recognizing each other.
My fingers relaxed and the poker fell to the ground on a loud clatter. It broke the spell between us.
Rushing forward, Ethan climbed the stairs with no effort, his feet only slowing when he was within arm's reach. Glancing down at the mess of the man's head I'd caused, his eyes bulged for just a second before narrowing to look up at me. "Are you hurt?"
Where words should have escaped me in answer, tears poured from my eyes instead. Despite the blood and bits of ... God, what was that chunky stuff on me? ... Ethan launched forward to grab my shoulders with his hands so he could look me up and down.
"You need to get in a shower. Can you walk?"
Rolling the ankle, I decided it wasn't broken. Extremely painful maybe, but not so much I couldn't put weight on it. Nodding my head, I allowed Ethan to wrap an arm around my body to assist me from the stage, out of the studio and through the winding halls that led to his suite of rooms.
We didn't stop until we were standing in his large bathroom, the size of the shower alone three times the square footage of the individual cages. He released me to walk into the shower and turn on the spray. Still dripping bits of gore from my skin, I turned to see there were multiple shower heads instead of just one. His fancy suit was now destroyed by blood and water, the material clinging to his body as he moved.
It didn't stop me from arguing when he reached to remove my shirt. "Your suit," I reminded him.
"Is an insignificant loss I'm not concerned about," he answered with no waver to his voice. "You need to get cleaned up."
I couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if Ethan was walking on eggshells, as if he was a man facing down several guns and trying to calmly talk himself out of being in the line of fire. Why was he being so careful? Was I that weak that one wrong word would shatter me into pieces over the ground?
I didn't feel weak. Shaken, maybe. Enraged. But not weak. I'd be a liar to claim a sliver of satisfaction hadn't rolled through me to return to my attacker exactly what he had done to Joanne.
If anything, that sliver made me feel powerful.
Raising my arms so Ethan could pull the shirt off my body, I couldn't ignore the way he winced to watch something slide off my arm to splat on the ground. My gorge rose again, but I fought it. "A shower sounds good," I finally admitted.
He gave me a clipped nod of agreement before leading me beneath the spray. Without concern for his suit, he directed me beneath a head embedded high in the black tile wall and used his hands to help guide the water over my hair and down my face. The water pooled at my feet as a sickly red, eventually transitioning into a faint pink.
Clasping his hands against my cheeks, he held my face still, his eyes searching my expression, heat blazing behind what resembled molten steel. A tremor coursed through me at the intensity of that focused gaze, my thoughts spinning wildly between my feelings of what I'd just done and my trepidation for what Ethan was feeling.
&nb
sp; Was he angry with me? Or was he as turned on now as he'd been the night he forced me to watch my film?
Time wasn't slow to answer that question. In fact, it sped up, stealing my chance to take a breath before Ethan's lips were crushed to mine.
My body responded despite my staggered thoughts, instantly melting against him as he pressed me back against the cool tile of the shower wall. The kiss was anything but gentle. Demanding lips parted my own, a dominating tongue slipping in my mouth until all I could taste was his passionate lust. I trembled beneath the heat of it, my skin tightening across my bones, my breasts too sensitive for the way his wet shirt rubbed against them.
His hand slid to my thigh to lift my leg and wrap it over his hip. I noticed that he'd made sure to lift my injured leg so that the other could hold my weight. Always planning everything down to the minute details, his focus was never broken, even in sex. The understanding of what that could mean sent a roaring shudder through my body.
My mouth was pressed to the lips of my tormenter, but I didn't care at that moment, couldn't care when I was on fire in every place he touched. Fingertips dragging down the outside of my thigh, he gripped my hip in one hand while trailing the other from my cheek to my shoulder, down farther to take the weight of my breast in his possessive hold. Pressing tighter against me until I was trapped, his erection was obvious between my legs. I almost came apart to feel it.
Water poured down our bodies, the spray of the other showerheads drowning us in heat as our bodies ignited with need so forceful we were all mouths and teeth, gripping hands and teasing fingers.
His hand released my breast to trail lower, the muscles in my stomach clenching as his fingertips brushed down my abdomen whisper soft. He paused at my waist, his thumb sweeping down to tease the skin below it. A growl emanated from somewhere deep inside me, the sound taking me by surprise as his teeth clamped down on my bottom lip. I opened my eyes to find him watching me intently.
Of course, I thought. He's always watching.
Pressing his forehead against mine, he dragged his gaze down between our bodies, his eyes focused on his hand as it trailed lower to cup me between the legs. My head fell back against the wall, my lips parting as my hips bucked against his touch, silently begging.
My fingers clamped down over his shoulders, my body opening up to his slow, taunting exploration. I couldn't catch a breath with the thick steam and heady tension, couldn't manage to utter a word begging him to move faster or demanding he release me. I was frozen in that moment, every wicked pulse of emotion inside me etched with his name.
His fingers taunted and tantalized, sliding softly over the crease between my legs but not with enough pressure to give me even a hint of relief. Gnashing my teeth in frustration, I slid my hands from his shoulders to wrap my fingers in his thick black hair. Breath hissed over his lips when I tugged.
His fingers slid down along my slickened skin, pressing between the lust swollen flesh as his thumb found my clit. Circling ever so slowly, he smiled against my cheek when a sultry moan crawled up my throat.
Practically vibrating with the need for an explosive release, I fisted my fingers into his hair tighter, a threatening hold. He only smiled wider before running his tongue along the line of my jaw, challenging me to hurt him faster than he could drive me to the point of insanity and back.
I wanted to kill him right then and there because we weren't just devouring each other with cruel anticipation, we were battling for superiority in this twisted, dangerous game.
His thumb pressed harder over my clit, a punishing pressure as his middle finger slid back and forth between the sensitive skin. Another growl escaped my chest, matched by his when I tugged even harder to angle his face up and crash my lips against his.
A tidal wave was building inside me, a slow drumbeat as it edged its way closer, building and teeming with a rush of water that would crash over me until I was drowning. Dragging me, it would roll and toss me through the ecstasy of the release that was building.
Just as I thought I would break apart from the pressure, just as my teeth came down to lock on Ethan's lip, he slipped his finger inside my body, exploring and moving it ever so slowly to circle the tight, greedy muscles that were clamping down on that small amount of sensation.
It wasn't enough. I needed more, needed all of him until the only thing I knew was his name tearing from my lips. His scent, his taste and the feel of his body was replacing every horrible event I'd seen and witnessed since the day I was snatched from the streets of Boston to become a character on his heartless stage.
Hand pumping between my legs, he lost the ability to continue tormenting me with the slow pace of a patient man. For every thrust of his hand, I was being pushed to my toes, my fingernails dragging down the back of his head to scratch the skin of his neck. My hands braced on his shoulders as moans poured out of my throat, becoming frantic words begging him to go faster, harder, anything to push me over that edge into a moment of ecstasy and loss of control.
Leaning down, he took the tight nipple of my breast between his teeth, the pain soothed as his tongue swept out to lick it from my skin. Now it was his name falling from my lips as my body surrendered to an explosive release, waves of torment and pleasure cresting and building again. By the time he was done driving me to a point of wicked oblivion, he was pressing soft kisses down my cheek and breathing hard himself.
Slowly, my heart calmed down and my lungs drew a full breath, his hands releasing me as he moved to pull away. My hand shot out, my fingers wrapping into the wet material of his shirt.
Snapping my eyes open, I locked my gaze with his. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Those glorious grey eyes widened by a fraction at the husky sound of my voice. His voice was sad, somehow, but also gritty and angry when he answered, "I don't fuck actresses."
You do now... I didn't say. Despite my silence, he heard that message loud and clear.
"Emma-" he started to say, but something feral inside me was coming to the surface, the predator, perhaps, that Ethan always claimed laid in wait behind my prim and proper mask.
"No," I said, cutting him off, "you don't get to say that now. Not after what I've done. Not after you helped me shred the fucking mask of civility to release whatever this is inside me. I'm not the actress now. Am I, Ethan?"
Heat flashed behind his eyes and I cast a pointed look down at the tent his cock was making beneath his pants. My eyes caught his after I dragged my dangerous gaze back up. "Your body understands that about me. At what point will your mind catch up?"
Lips spreading until he was flashing me that lazy, arrogant smile, his eyes narrowed in angry temptation, his chest beating with labored breath as his hands reached out to grip my hips. I wouldn't break his stare, wouldn't give ground, and wouldn't abandon the challenge I'd issued just because the predator inside him was staring back.
"Is there ever a time you don't argue?" he asked, a warning in his tone.
My eyebrow arched. His chest rumbled with the masculine sound of a man that was barely in control. Pure want was in that sound. The subtle threat before he breaks his leash and forces you to your knees. My brow arched higher, tugging with it the corner of my lip.
He scowled.
"You'll hate me after this," Ethan cautioned.
Blinking slowly, I peeked up at him from beneath water-spiked lashes. "I hate you already."
Tense seconds ticked by, so full of vacillation that I was becoming rabid in my wait for his decision.
"Fuck it," he hissed, his body launching forward as my hands fought to tear his shirt from his chest. It was a good thing he'd already ruined the clothes because buttons were pinging around us as the material was being ripped. While I pulled it open and stared down at a toned chest that was a golden tan, and down further at a stomach that I wanted to drag my nails across just to trace the shadow of muscle, Ethan fumbled with his belt, the leather slick from the water still pouring over our heads.
Fi
nally pulling it from where it was buckled, he ripped at the button of his pants and allowed the soaked material to drop into a heavy puddle around his ankles. I only had a second to trace my gaze over the thick, hard length of his erection, my heart beating a staccato rhythm as he lifted me off my feet and directed my legs to wrap around his waist. He didn't need permission or another invitation to tap the head of his cock at my opening and push himself inside my body, inch by exquisitely tortuous inch.
Pleasure was a cry on my lips, the sound of it foreign to me because I'd never been the kind of woman to lose control before. But something had snapped, some bonds cut loose that left me wild and ravenous, so drawn to this man - this moment - that I didn't care how much noise I made. As his body thrust against mine in rhythmic, punishing beats, my arms wrapped over his shoulders, my back sliding up and down the tiled wall with the movement of his strong body.
I didn't need to open my eyes to know he was watching me, recording this moment, logging every detail of my pleasure, my pain and my demand for more into that sadistic head of his. But I didn't care. At that moment, I would have happily listed for him each strength and weakness, each insecurity and fear, each traumatic and trying aspect about my life that had shaped me while leading me here. I would have shed my skin to let him peer inside me if it meant that he would keep bruising me with the power of his thrusting body.
The sound of our bodies moving together was harmony to the fall of water and the labored beat of our combined breath. And for as wild as I felt inside for this terrible man who had done nothing but hurt me since we'd met, I knew that he would only hurt me again once all was said and done.
Ethan carried a heart inside him made of pure, merciless ice.
He had a mind that was a master at picking apart every person around him just so he could poke at the sorest parts when he was done tearing them down.