by W Winters
“You’re dirty,” he tells me with what seems like sincere sympathy. “You don’t wash yourself like I’d hoped you would.”
I bite my tongue at the perverted comments, but I can’t hold it all in. “I’m not a dog to be bathed.” I can’t hide the anger. I should fake my tone like he does, but I choose not to. He’ll feed me regardless. I hope. He only smiles at me in response and it nearly makes me back away from him. Not because of the way he’s looking at me, but because of how my body reacts to the smile. How he seems to enjoy it when I don’t hold back. It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous.
“You’re tired.”
“It’s difficult to sleep on the floor.” Even as I answer him, I can feel how heavy the bags are under my eyes.
“There’s a mattress at least,” he quips, and those piercing eyes stare deeper into me like he can see through the wall of defense. Just the way he looks at me makes me question everything.
Time evades me as I stare back at him, feeling those same walls crumble deep inside of me. I try to suppress the hate I have for him in this moment, just so I can get this over with and eat.
“You look weak, songbird.”
“You keep calling me that,” I bite back.
“I’ve never called you weak,” he says, and his answer is just as stern as mine.
“I meant ‘songbird.’ You keep calling me songbird.” My voice cracks. I don’t want him to call me anything. Not my name, not a sweet nickname. It doesn’t reflect how he truly sees me. It’s meant to weaken me, make me soften. “Stop calling me that.”
“No,” he says in a hardened voice. “Now come here, songbird Come kneel in front of me and let me feed you.”
This is the second part of his routine and the one where I’ve told him to go fuck himself over and over again. But today, I slowly move my body and get on my hands and knees. I swallow my pride and it hurts. It physically hurts. I didn’t know pride was a spiked ball until I move one knee in front of the other. My body is hot with embarrassment and shame as I stop at his feet.
I can’t open my eyes until his rough hand brushes against my jaw. I wish I didn’t feel the need to lean into him. Loneliness consumes me every day. If I could pause this moment and pretend I’m somewhere else, with someone else, I’d lean into his strong touch. I’d allow myself to enjoy his warmth and comfort.
But as it is, I’m staring into the dark eyes of a man who’s held me like this before. And then so quickly shown how easily he could hurt me.
Swallowing thickly, I wait for the third part. Only seconds until he tells me to open my mouth.
As if reading my mind, Cross lets his thumb brush along the seam of my lips. It’s a gentle caress that ignites something primitive in me, heating my core and making my heart beat furiously inside my chest. My knees inch forward, obeying the command from my body to move closer to him.
Closer to the man who controls my freedom. Closer to the gentle touch.
“Open,” he commands me, and I feel my lips part of their own accord.
My eyes stay closed until his hand moves away, and his warmth is replaced with the chill of the air in the cell.
My heart flickers with fear until I watch him pick up a chunk of strawberry and lift it to my lips. I’d be ashamed at how greedily I eat the small piece of fruit if only consuming it didn’t make me feel as though I’m starved. The sweetness falls into a pit of hollow hunger pains. And again, my body moves closer to him.
He doesn’t say anything or hint at anything other than his desire to keep feeding me. And I accept every piece with a hunger that only seems to intensify. My hands find their way to his knees, gripping him as I swallow the next piece he’s offering me.
It takes me far too long to realize I’m touching him. His groan of approval is what cues my awareness, but as I try to pull away, he does the same to the fruit in his grasp.
“Stay.” He gives me the simple command, and so I do. I cling to him for more.
The part that’s truly shameful though is how much hearing him tell me to stay made me crave more of him. His hand on mine, watching him watch me.
A moment passes where I realize he knows my forbidden thoughts.
My greatest fear is that he’ll voice them and bring them to life. I force my fingers to dig deeper into his leg and I open my lips wider, silently begging for more, so I can hide the temptation that grows hotter between us.
I think he’s doing it slowly on purpose. Picking up the bits of sweet fruit and taking his time before he slips them between my lips.
“Open wider,” he commands me and it’s only because my stomach pains with the need to eat that I obey him, that’s what I tell myself. I close my eyes, holding back every other thought.
“Look at me,” he commands as I swallow the small morsel and his strong hand cups my chin, forcing my head up. The juice from his fingers wets the underside of my chin in his grasp. He’s so close, his dark eyes swirling with an intensity that holds my gaze captive. “You’re so strong,” he tells me, and I hate him for it. “You don’t believe me, but you are.”
The rough pad of his thumb brushes against my bottom lip and I almost bite him, just to spite him. To prove to him that whatever he assumes I’m thinking is all in his head. I catch the broad smile growing on his face as I look back up at him.
He offers me another piece and I take it in my mouth. I have to wait for him to pull his fingers away, but he doesn’t.
My gaze moves back to his and he lowers his lips to my neck, his fingers still in my mouth and the juice of the fruit tasting even sweeter. His short stubble brushes my collarbone and then he whispers in my ear, “See how strong? You’d love to bite me, but you know how to survive.”
His hot breath tickles my neck and sends goosebumps down my body. Shamefully, my nipples harden and my back bows slightly. “Such a good girl, Aria,” Cross says, and I pull away from him, leaving the fruit between his fingers and brushing my ass against the cement as I scoot backward, putting distance between us.
The fear is alive within me, but it’s changed. I fear what I’m capable of and how much I’d enjoy it.
The vision of him pinning me down on the ground flashes before my eyes and cruelly, it only makes me hotter. I swallow thickly, feeling my cheeks heat with a blush.
Cross doesn’t move from his chair. “You’re all done?” he asks me. I can’t look him in the eye. I don’t even trust myself to speak. Maybe this is what it’s truly like to be broken.
“Is it because you’ve finished, or because you’re wet for me?” he asks me in a husky voice that only adds to my desire for him.
“Fuck you,” I say beneath my breath, narrowing my eyes and letting my blunt nails dig into the cement.
Cross lets the trace of a smile play on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he stands up, towering over me. “I told you I wanted you, Aria. And I get everything I want. Just remember that.”
Chapter 13
Carter
* * *
She hasn’t eaten, she’s barely moved since she gave in last night. I’ve come in twice since then and both times she’s denied me even though in three days all she’s eaten is a handful of fruit.
I can feel the tension between us. I know she’s at war with it as much as I am. But she spends her nights screaming and barely sleeping. The little bit of progress during the day is erased and there’s nothing I can do about it.
She’s going to cave again and I can feel it on the horizon. I’ve never been so eager to come into this cell as I am today.
I have to hide my smile as she slinks from the mattress to the floor. She never stays on the mattress when I come in. At least, she hasn’t yet.
My heart beats hard as I watch her expression fall.
There’s no tray tonight. No offering for her.
It’s easy to see her breathing pick up as she registers I’m here for something else.
I intentionally let the chair drag along the floor as I make my way to her.
> “I don’t have anything to say,” she tells me as I sit down only a few feet away from her. Far enough so that she can crawl to me and kneel. The crawling part I’m not interested in. She decided to do that on her own, but I don’t care how I get her on her knees in front of me. So long as she submits.
“That’s interesting that you would start the conversation then, isn’t it?” She doesn’t respond. Her collarbone looks more prominent today than it ever has. I couldn’t see it on the monitors, but three days of barely eating is starting to show and I don’t like it. Starved is not how I want her.
I should feel remorse, not anger at the observation.
“Why make it harder on yourself?” I question her with a deep tone of disapproval.
And once again, she doesn’t answer.
“You’ll cave again. You can’t help yourself. You realize that, don’t you?” She’s a smart girl. Anyone with any bit of intelligence knows that starvation is painful, and the instinct to survive will kick in over pride.
“Just let me go,” she says weakly, brushing under her eyes and hiding the tears. So close to breaking. So, fucking close.
“I’m getting tired of hearing you make that request.”
“Then both of us are tired,” she says softly, picking at her dirty clothes. I would give her everything if only she’d obey me.
“You wanted me,” I remind her, and she huffs a pathetic sound of disgust.
Her eyes narrow as she looks me in the eyes and tells me, ”You aren’t what I want.”
“What did you want then?” I ask her, leaning forward in my seat so quickly that I startle her. I’m only inches away and so close I can feel the heat from her body. She turns away from me, looking toward nothingness on the blank wall.
“Answer me,” I say and there’s little patience in my voice. My body tenses as I move forward in my seat so I’m as close to her as I can be. I don’t like what she does to me, but even more, I don’t like that I don’t know what to do with her. I don’t want her like this. I need her to break now, her mind before her body.
She looks at me with a stare of contempt before barely speaking the words, “I don’t know what I wanted.”
“You wanted me to fuck you,” I tell her in a voice intended to be seductive. I practically whisper. “I’d feed you, care for you, fuck you and put you to bed used and sated.” She’s silent as I move back to a relaxed position in the uncomfortable chair. “That’s what you wanted.”
“I just wanted my fucking notebook back!” she screams at me with a bite of anger I know must’ve hurt. Swallowing thickly, she looks away from me as her eyes turn glossy.
My heart pounds hard, just once, then stops for a moment as she wipes her eyes.
“You want a notebook?” I ask her, although I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.
Her chest rises and falls steadily as she looks at me. Each breath deepening the dip in her collarbone. “Tell me,” I command her.
“My drawing pad,” she murmurs softly, anger and contempt forgotten. “That’s what led me to the bar where those assholes got me,” she whispers with defeat. “I just wanted my drawing pad back.”
“A specific one?” I ask as my brow raises slightly. It’s not going to happen. I can get her a new one, but I’m not risking what’s already been set in motion to find something she’s left behind.
“Yes,” she whispers and parts her lips to tell me something else, but I can’t and won’t hunt down any of her possessions.
“It’s gone,” I say flatly, cutting off her words.
I watch as she swallows and note the way the sadness returns to her eyes. “Any would do.” Her eyes search my face warily as she sits back against the bed, making it dip with her weight. She’s frail with a look of submission brimming close to the surface.
“A drawing pad. What else do you want?” My fingers itch to trace along her jaw and force her to look at me. To force her to make this easier on herself and both of us.
She peeks up at me through only slits, her dark lashes barely letting me see any of her eyes. But in the small bit she offers me, I see nothing but rage.
“You have something to say?”
“Fuck you,” she spits.
I’ve never felt the urge to kiss her until now. In filthy clothes and all. It’s quiet between us as I imagine gripping the nape of her neck and taking her lips with mine. She’d bite me. I know she would because she thinks she should, and that only makes me harder.
“That mouth of yours. That’s what’s going to get you into trouble.”
“As if I’m not in trouble already,” she answers me through clenched teeth, lifting her chin at me.
“You will be if you don’t obey me.” Each word comes out heavy, making my chest clench with a tightness of what’s to come. My breathing is shallow, and my blood burns a little hotter.
I can see her lips twitch with the need to speak, but she bites her tongue.
This is the version of Aria that I want. The raw anger of knowing and accepting that she’s at my mercy.
“Tell me what you really think, Aria,” I say softly although the words ring out loudly in my ears. My gaze is locked on hers. My blood rushing in my ears. All I can do is wait for her.
One beat. Two beats of my heart before she whispers in a cracked voice, “You’re a monster.”
“And why is that?”
“Because of what you want from me,” she says quiety, but she doesn’t break eye contact.
“What is it that I want from you?” I ask her as I grip the edge of the chair tighter.
“You want to fuck me.” She doesn’t hesitate to answer but the anger in her expression morphs to pain as she rips her gaze away from mine.
“Of course, I want to fuck you,” I tell her in as calm a voice as I can manage. My gaze slips down to her curves and I have to force them back up to see her doe eyes back on mine as she scoots farther back on the bed. She’s searching for comfort and safety, but all she’s doing is making me want to pursue her.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “The second I saw you, I wanted you.” My confession comes out a whisper and the memory of her weeks after that night happened years ago flashes through my mind. I had to know the face of the angel who’d saved me. If only she had known then what she was doing, if only she’d known I wasn’t worth saving. The hate and love I’ve had for her has warred for years within me.
Silence separates us for a moment. And then another.
“Just get it over with,” she breathes the words but doesn’t look up. The tone of defeat rings false.
“Is that because you want me too, but you don’t have the courage to admit it?” I dare to challenge her and again that anger comes back full force.
“Fuck. You.” She leans forward as she says each word, practically spitting them. And the rage and defiance only make my cock more eager to thrust deep inside of her.
“You will, little songbird.” Lust pumps through my blood as she inches back on the bed yet again, her gaze fixed next to me as if she’s watching my every move but doesn’t want me to know it.
That only makes the hint of a smirk on my lips grow.
The chair scoots back as I stand and the sound of it scratching the floor frightens Aria. She sits up a little straighter, a little stiffer and watches me with wide eyes as I take two steps closer to her.
“You want to get it over with?” I ask her as I reach for my belt. I want her to see how hard I am for her. And teach her a lesson.
My belt slips through the loops of my pants, leaving the sound of leather brushing against the fabric to sing in the air. My blood is laced with adrenaline and lust as I watch her breathe heavier and faster.
The metal of the buckle clinks on the ground as it lands and then I unzip my pants. A flush travels up Aria’s chest and into her cheeks.
“Come here,” I give her the small command with the bit of breath left in my lungs as I grip my thick erection through my pants and she w
atches. I swear her lips part and her thighs clench as she watches.
Her wide eyes dart from my cock to my eyes.
“Come here,” I tell her again when she doesn’t move. I know she wants me. Maybe not like this, but I have to show her what power she has. Until she submits, all she has is power over me. “Get down on your knees in front of me,” I add and palm myself again. “Aria.” Her name comes out hard on my lips, but dripping with sin and desire as I add, “I fucking want you.”
I don’t miss the small gasp from her lips as she hesitates another second.
I watch every small change in her expression. From how her nails dig into the mattress, to how her body tenses and makes the bed creak as she inches forward as if she’s going to listen to me. She swallows so loudly I can hear it as she slowly climbs off the bed. She stands on weak legs before dropping slowly in front of me, down onto her knees.
My pulse quickens but I don’t know how. All the blood in my body feels like it’s in my dick.
“If I leaned down and shoved my hand between your thighs,” I ask her, holding back a groan from the thought, “how wet and hot would your cunt feel right now?”
Her eyes widen, and she leans back, but with the way she’s seated, with her knees under her, she can’t lean back far without being off balance.
“Do you know what it will feel like when I finally shove myself deep inside your tight little cunt?” I ask as my dick pulses with need and I have to stroke it once more.
She breathes out heavily, nearly violently and avoids my gaze.
“You’re going to scream my name like your life depends on my mercy.” I stroke myself again and again. Fuck, I’m so eager for her touch my dick is throbbing so hard it hurts. “I won’t show you mercy, Aria, I’m going to fuck you like you’re mine to ruin.”
She whimpers and struggles to remain still in front of me. Her thighs clench as I kick the chair behind me, so I can crouch down in front of her.
Her hazel eyes are wide and filled with desire.
“I want to give you everything,” I whisper as I lean forward, letting my lips trail along her jaw. A ripple of unease runs through me as I realize the truth in those words.