Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  “I’m thinking about what your father would say,” I reply. “If he knew you were here.”

  She is quiet. Lost in her own thoughts as she studies me.

  "Sometimes, I don't know what my father would say," she admits. "I love him very much. But I feel like I don't know him very well. He had so many secrets. And I have wondered..."

  She threads her fingers together in her lap and looks into my eyes again.

  "Wondered what?" I press.

  "I have wondered what he did to you, Javi."

  I do not answer her.

  Bella rises from her chair and moves towards me.

  My pulse quickens.

  She approaches me the way one would approach a wild animal. My fists are locked at my side, my muscles tense. Her arm trembles and her lip does too. She raises my hood and pushes it back away from my face.

  My body is still sore. Still healing. And it looks worse than usual.

  I don't like this. I don't like her seeing me like this. I move to grab her wrist. But she is fast this time. And determined.

  "No, Javi," she says. "I want to see you. Let me see you."

  My body goes on the offensive. Every muscle tightening and contracting. Every instinct inside of me demanding that I eliminate the threat. But one look into Bella’s eyes gives me the control I need to restrain myself.

  My hand falls back to my side. And I let her see me. I cannot deny this angel.

  She moves between my legs. Hesitates. Now it feels as though she is the predator. She sits on my lap, and her palm comes up to touch my face.

  I close my eyes when she maps out the scars with her fingertip. I don't like it. But I don't want her to stop either.

  "Bella."

  My voice is hoarse. Strained. I don't know what I need from her. But my Bella knows. She leans in and kisses me. She kisses my scars, healing me in some way. As though they could disappear beneath her gentle touch.

  I know that they can't. But it feels like they are. Like she is the cure to my disease. Her lips find mine. I can't be gentle with her anymore. I catch her face in my hands and kiss her violently. She whimpers but does not protest.

  I am hard for her. So fucking hard. I grind my hips into her soft flesh and want so badly to feel her from the inside. I want to destroy her and fill her with my come.

  I want her to cry so I can taste her tears. I want her to make me bleed. I don't know how to make it stop. I can’t cure this madness in my head.

  I’m not supposed to want her this way. I’m not supposed to feel anything when I look at her.

  Her hands are on me. On my skin. Beneath my shirt. Touching me. Feeling me. Burning and healing me.

  "Take off your sweater," she begs. "Please, Javi."

  I look into her eyes, seeking out the deception I am certain to find there. But it is absent.

  "Please," she says again.

  I push my hand between her legs. Cupping her through the leggings. She is wet for me. For the monster beneath her. I don't understand it. How can she want something so bad for her?

  "Javi."

  She's pulling up the sweater herself now.

  My mind is still at war, but my body is responding to her. Lifting my arms up when she tells me. My sweater ends up on the floor, and my chest is bare for her. Hard and scarred to her soft and pure.

  Her palms move over me, exploring. Her lips find the skin of my throat first. And then my collar bone. Then the scars that litter my body. I close my eyes, and my head falls back against the chair.

  She is the only one I've ever allowed to touch me in this way. I would not have believed that it was possible.That it could be real.

  But it is.

  I am allowing her to touch me, and she is wet for me.

  "You have always been mine," I tell her.

  Her hand moves down to the bulge in my sweatpants, cupping the hard heat through the material.

  “But what about you, Javi?” she asks. “Does that mean you are mine, too?"

  I groan when she squeezes me through the material, my self-control hanging on by a thread. She leans forward in my lap and kisses my neck again. All the way up to my ear.

  "Let me have you," she says. "Let me have all of you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  JAVI’S FINGERS dig into my hips, his eyes sharp and intense.

  "You don't know what you're asking for."

  "I do," I tell him, and it's a lie.

  I know Javi is fucked up in the head. I know that he is a well of darkness I haven't even tapped into yet. And I fear those parts of him. But I am also drawn to it.

  The darkness in him speaks to the darkness in me.

  The space between us is loud with energy, boiling over into our heated skin.

  "Get up," he tells me.

  I hesitate.

  Afraid he is going to reject me. Afraid he is going to send me away. It isn't what I want. I don't know how to convince him otherwise.

  He reaches up and snags a handful of my hair in his grip.

  "Are you going to do what you're told, Bella?"

  His voice is menacing and hot. Hungry and full of promise. He's on the verge of breaking. And I think he just might give in.

  So I stand, and he releases his grip on my hair, lifting his hips up to remove his sweat pants. I try to help him, and he growls at me.

  "Do as you are told, Bella. Be a good girl."

  I let him do it, even though it's obvious he is in pain. He removes his pants and slides to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over so that his feet rest on the floor and his hands are at his sides.

  "Now come here."

  I come to him, still fully clothed. Javi directs me with short, precise commands. He tells me to remove my shirt. And I do. Then my pants.

  I do.

  I'm standing before him in my bra and panties, and he's on the verge of losing control. I want him to. So I provoke him by removing the rest without his permission.

  I am naked before him. Naked and cold and vulnerable.Something I have never liked to be. I don't know why I like it so much right now.

  Javi's palm spreads over my hip and slides up my rib cage to cup my breast, his thumb skating across my nipple. I jerk forward like I’m being pulled by a magnet. Crushing against his body heat, and still not close enough.

  He is a composition of hard muscle and painted tattoos. His cock, rigid and swollen against his thigh.

  He's a monster. A chillingly hot monster. And I want him. I want him so badly it hurts deep in my core. He's going to ruin me. Destroy me. Physically and mentally. I know this. And yet I beg him for it, even as he shoves me to my knees before him.

  "Kiss me."

  I kiss him.

  On the head of his cock.

  The moisture of his arousal slides over my lips, and I part them to lick it off. In doing so, my tongue brushes against the head of his cock, and he groans.

  As with all things, Javi does not have the patience for me to take him softly or slowly. He grabs my head and shoves himself deep into my throat, gagging me.

  He holds me there, testing me. My hands rest on his thighs, and I don't dare move. I don't even breathe. I remain silent and still, my eyes watering while he measures my limits.

  "Is this what you want, little Bella?"

  I try to nod, but I can't move my head under the force of his grip. He sighs and releases me, allowing me to fill my lungs.

  I look up at him. He expects animosity. Hopes for it. Anything to stop this. His eyes are pleading with me. Begging me to have some sense. To understand that he is a monster. To understand that I am asking him to destroy me. My eyes implore him to do it. To do the thing my lips can't speak of.

  I rest my cheek against his thigh, stroking my fingers over the scarred skin there. The still raw wounds of his new injuries. Pressing a little harder than I should. Giving him the thing I know he wants and craves. The pain.

  He shudders. Petting my hair beneath his palm while I trace the sensitive flesh with
my nails. And I know. I know he's going to give into me now. He can't help himself. He reaches for something on the bedside table, and I don't see it until it flashes beneath the light.

  The edge of the metal blade presses against my throat, dragging over the skin there. My heart accelerates, and my eyes snap up to his.

  One push and he could end my life right now. I already know him to be a murderer. He murdered his own mother. But it's his eyes that give him away. This is his last attempt at pushing me away. He wants me to be afraid. He wants at least one of us to come to our senses.

  I reach up and rest my hand over the blade. Gently, he allows me to remove it from his grip.

  I press it against his thigh. Javi’s eyes heat and his cock jumps. He wants this. He wants this fucked up scenario more than anything. He wants me to do the very thing his mother did to him.

  I should stop. I should run away. I should reason that they were right to put him away. To lock him up and institutionalize him. But the need inside of him calls out to me.

  And instead of appealing to logic, I dig the blade into his flesh. I dig until it pierces the skin and crimson oozes from the wound.

  His lungs are at a standstill when I move my free palm between his legs to stroke his cock. He grunts. Bucks into my hand. Tosses the knife away and yanks me up onto the bed.

  He is still bleeding from his thigh, and I wonder if I did too much. If I went too far. If I crossed a line I won't be able to uncross.

  These thoughts all crash through my mind in jarring succession while he positions himself over me and secures my wrists above my head. I don't even know what he bound them with until I see the ropes around the bed frame.

  The fear is potent when I pull against them and can't move.

  "Javi," I plead with him, my voice betraying my terror. "Please..."

  "I warned you, Bella," he says. "I told you."

  He reaches for the knife. I squeeze my eyes shut and tremble beneath him. The tip rests against my collar bone, trailing along the sensitive flesh before it dips lower. Onto my chest, directly above my breast.

  "My turn."

  He cuts into my flesh, and I don’t make a sound. Javi is breathing hard enough for both of us, his voice heavy with arousal when he speaks.

  "Open your eyes."

  I open my eyes.

  The ache is intense. Euphoric. I feel lightheaded. High. And I can't tell if I am afraid or turned on when I glance down at the red line on my chest.

  It is only small. Superficial. Enough to draw blood. I thought it would be worse. It felt so much worse.

  Javi leans forward, pressing his skin into mine. He kisses me. It's so fucking wrong to like this. That's what I keep telling myself. It's so fucking wrong what he's doing to me. I know it. He knows it. But we can't help ourselves.

  I am at his mercy as he drags his lips down my throat and sucks my nipple into his mouth. He licks me until I am raw and drenched with need. And then he pulls my legs up around his hips, opening me up wide for him.

  It hurts already, and he hasn't even entered me. I look up at him and plead with my eyes. I want to ask him to be gentle. I want to tell him to just take me.

  It doesn't matter though because Javi does what he wants. He drags his cock through my arousal and pushes inside of me.

  "Javi."

  He thrusts deep.

  I freeze. Burn. Cry.

  He collects my tears with his lips.

  "My Bella." He rocks his hips into me. "My Bella."

  I squirm beneath him, uncertain whether I'm trying to break free or get closer. His eyes find mine, soft and warm and golden. They are so different now. He is changing before my eyes. The icy walls around his heart are thawing, and it’s because of me.

  His fingers brush over my cheek. My lips. Full of worship. I squeeze closer to him, and his eyes flutter shut. The pain of our past fades beneath the soothing touch of his fingers on my skin. His lips on my neck. His body in mine.

  I ache to touch him. I beg him to free me from my restraints, but my pleas go ignored as he reaches down to touch me.

  He makes me come with several strokes of his fingers. It isn’t violent this time. It is a slow, lingering burn that stays with me while he sucks on my throat, marking me. Claiming me.

  He is bare inside of me, the way he always has been. Raw. I should tell him to pull out. I should be worried. Scared. Logical. But I can't be any of those things with Javi.

  I am drunk on the kool-aid. Intoxicated by him.

  My lips part against his throat. Breathing him in. I'm going to tell him to be smart. To think about this. That's what I'm going to do. But the words come out of my mouth wrong. So, so wrong. And so, so right.

  "Come inside of me, Javi."

  He bucks against me and thrusts all the way inside, jerking as he empties himself deep in my womb. Filling me with his come. Filling me with poisonous thoughts.

  I want him. I hate him.

  My feelings for him are a battlefield.

  And the only refuge I have is that when he looks down at me, I can see the same reflected back in his eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  MY BELLA always tastes so sweet when she is like this. When she is pliable and sated and filled with my come. Her tits red and swollen from my beard and my tongue. Her chest dried with blood. And a cut that I trace with my finger, wondering if it will leave a scar.

  She is still bound at the wrists, but she no longer begs me to let her go. When she looks at me now, there is warmth in her eyes. Warmth that lies and lures me in. Warmth designed to make me let my guard down.

  She is still trying to deceive me. I am certain. How could she ever love the beast that I am? My body and mind are tired of this war raging on inside of my head.

  I untie her and lay beside her. She touches my chest with her fingertips. Hesitant. Anxious.

  There is a part of me that feels shame for that. For making her fearful. For making her question me. That same part of me wants to tell her that it's okay. That she need not ever be afraid of me again.

  But that would be a lie.

  And unlike her father, I am a man of my word. I may not have honor, but the one thing I will not do to my Bella is lie to her now. I will not give her false hope where none can live.

  For tonight only, I will hold her. Comfort her. And in the morning, she can learn all over again why it is unwise to trick me.

  SUNLIGHT WARMS the back of my eyelids, and for a moment, I have forgotten where I am.

  My body is stiff and sore. A reminder of the events that have unfolded over the last several days. A reminder of another sacrifice I have made for this girl. One that I cannot fully comprehend.

  My intentions were simple. I would go to Luke and buy out her contract. I would tell him that she was done. He was never to speak her name in the media again.

  It should have been simple. But what I did not anticipate was that Luke was expecting me. That I would be greeted at his door by seven armed guards. And that I would be held there while they tried to beat their answers out of me.

  It was an irony I could not help but find amusing. I told Luke as much when he tried to punch me in the face. He doesn't know the meaning of torture. And there was not a thing he could do that would ever make me tell him where my Bella was.

  I had already been subjected to torture on a level that Luke's mind could never grasp.

  In the end, his guards were weak and ignorant. Luke was a slave to his addictions. Coming and going at all hours of the night, fueling his body with the drugs he needed to function.

  His guards got lazy. The beatings became careless. Lacking heart and spirit. Eventually, they became indifferent too, as they led me to the bathroom. They thought me weak. And that was the last thought they had before I killed them.

  All but Luke.

  Him, I am saving for another time. When I have regained my strength. When I can question him and find out who is at the root of this betrayal.

  I think of my Bella. I t
hink of how she tricks me with her soft touches and warm looks. She could not have known my intentions for leaving. But I want to believe it is her. That she is the traitor at the root of this.

  It is easier to believe than any of the other scenarios in my mind. That I have been so careless not to have noticed I was followed.

  That the agency is watching me, and they are perhaps connected to Luke. These are all questions I have. And the answers have not yet come to me. But today… today they will.

  I will remember why I am doing this. I will remember that Bella is nothing to me. The only way this game can end is for me to destroy her before I deliver her fractured soul back to Ray. The same way that he destroyed me.

  I take a deep breath and open my eyes, recoiling at the brightness of the conservatory. Her scent still surrounds me. But when I roll over, she is not there.

  My blood roars as betrayal rages through me. She is trying to escape. Trying to trick me. All of her words the night before... lies. Her touches... lies. Her soft glances and her acceptance of what I am...

  Lies.

  And she will pay for it like she has never paid for anything else before.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I'M IN THE BATHROOM, digging through the drawers when a shadow passes over the frame, and I look up. Javi is there, stark naked. A powerhouse of muscle and ink. Muscles rippling with tension and golden eyes that are molten with anger.

  Those wild eyes move over me, cataloging every detail and trying to piece something together in his own mind. I'm in nothing more than a towel myself, fresh from the shower, wet hair hanging down my back.

  He glances at the brush in my right hand, and the dress I've picked out for today draped over the chair. He watches me carefully. Full of suspicion.

  He wants to lash out at me. He wants to believe that I am tricking him again. That I was planning to leave. To run away while I had the chance. There is no point in trying to reassure him. He would not believe me, no matter what I said to him right now. So I go about the business of brushing my hair while he watches from the doorway.