by Logan Fox
They’re already tight little buds, but when he draws one into his mouth and sucks, they harden even more. I gasp as my back arches from the bed, urging more of my breast into his mouth.
I’m dimly aware that this is not even close to what I’d intended, but I can’t even remember what my plan had been. To kiss him? To make him think I might open my legs for him?
Oh my God, my legs are already open. He’s gone and wedged himself between my thighs and I didn’t even realize.
Also, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that you haven’t had an anxiety attack yet. Do you feel you’re making some progress working with your PTSD, Meisie?
Well slap my ass and call me Sally. I think you’re onto something, Trish!
But as soon as Cillian’s hand slides behind my back and he touches my zipper, my body goes stiff.
No. No! I told him—
As if he doesn’t realize anything’s changed, he slides his other hand between my legs and strokes me through my underwear.
I don’t know who realizes it first—him or me—but when he discovers how wet I am, he lets out a low growl.
Maybe the little bunny rabbit in me suddenly comes alive, I don’t know. But one second all I want is for him to yank off those wet panties and do what he’s been threatening since he coerced me onto his lap at club Asylum, the next a panicked, “Peaches!” bursts out of me.
He sits up in a rush, blinking at me like he’s just woken up.
And fuck, I don’t blame him. My mind’s still reeling from the feel of his lips, his hands, his mouth.
“Peaches,” he replies slowly.
I squirm under him, dropping my eyes when I realize my tits are still out. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “It’s just—”
But he doesn’t seem to want to hear me out. I cut off when he yanks open my restraints. He climbs off the bed without a backward glance as I try and urge the dress back up my chest.
Shit, I’ve really pissed him off now. What the hell was I thinking?
Gig’s up, Meisie. He’ll never fall for your tricks again. You’ll be lucky if he even—
“Hungry?” he asks.
I hurriedly snap my mouth closed when he looks up at me from behind the camera.
Then he ducks down and takes another picture.
This time my mouth is still wide open when he straightens.
“Don’t worry, princess. That last one was just for me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CILLIAN
It’s done.
And for the first time in days I feel like I can breathe again.
Well, as far as the business side of things go.
The other side, the side I never even knew existed until right fucking now, is being put to the back of my mind. She peached me, and that’s that.
I’m not making her dinner because I like her, or even care about her needs in the slightest. I’m making her dinner because it’s the decent thing to do. She’s a human being, and so am I.
I’ll take it down to her and leave her alone.
There is no need for me to even engage with her now that we’ve done what we set out to do.
I kick the door open, a steaming hot plate of stir fry in one hand and a pint-sized glass of apple juice in the other. Cole should have had the foresight to put some proper lights in here because it makes spotting a little thing like her in the dim light nearly impossible.
I rest the plate and glass down on the nightstand and spin around to look for her. “Is that you asking for another game of hide and seek?”
A movement hits the corner of my eye, the thick bed covers shifting. She’s been in there the whole time, cooried up under the covers like the princess she is.
“I brought you dinner.”
She pokes her head up. “Oh...thanks.”
When she makes no move to come for it, I clear my throat. “Don’t you want to eat it while it’s hot?”
“Yeah, but you left me in my… outfit.”
I can’t help my laugh. Fuck, so I did. “You realize I’ve seen it all before, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t particularly feel like letting you see it again.”
I’m smiling at her quick wit. Fair enough. “It’s now my phone wallpaper, so I can see it any time I damn well please.”
She drops her mouth open but quickly closes it, instead shooting me a look that could kill a smaller man.
“Calm yourself, dear. Wee joke.”
I begin undoing the buttons on my dress shirt, and even in the dim red light I can see her eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you some clothes,” I tell her. “I’d go out and buy you something proper to wear, but I don’t think you’ll be here much longer.”
Why the fuck did I just say that?
The hopeful look on her face answers my question and I realize I like it.
I make my way across the room with the shirt in my hand, and I don’t miss her eyes quickly taking in my bare chest. She manages to put the shirt on over her clothes whilst still remaining under the covers. It’s all sorts of acrobatics and I’m smiling as I watch her. When she slides out, she’s covered in black from her neck to her upper thigh. “Fits like a glove,” she mutters.
I laugh at her.
I should be making for the door. I did what I set out to do. Her most basic needs are met and yet my feet are still planted firmly on the ground and I can’t keep my eyes off her as she crosses the room and sits on the couch.
I think she impresses me.
I’ve never contemplated thinking that about a woman before, let alone one as small and weak and innocent as her. But she’s not weak. Not really. A weak person wouldn’t have fought me like she did on the first morning. And it takes a fucking lot of strength to do the fucked up shit I made her do earlier without complaint. Well, much complaint.
Maybe she’s not as weak as she looks. And I’m starting to think she’s not as innocent, either.
But she is small, there’s no argument there. Very small. She might not be weak, but she’s still no match for me. And I like that.
I cross the room without thinking and take the seat next to her.
She lifts one of her eyebrows into a perfect arch, and twirls the stir-fry around on her fork. “Sofa for two, is it?”
“Would you rather eat alone?”
She doesn’t reply, and instead puts a forkful of twisted up stir-fry into her mouth.
I watch her, fascinated.
Why the fuck am I fascinated by a girl eating?
I need to think of something to say to her. Anything to stop me staring. “So… how are you?”
She pretends to almost choke on her dinner. “Who, me? Never been better.”
I smirk at her. “Glad to hear it.”
“Well…” She hesitates, peeking at me through her thick, dark lashes. “I’m a little bored.”
“Bored?”
“Yes. Bored. There’s nothing to do down here. I’ve counted the dildos in the closet four times now.”
Now I’m the one almost choking. “We could play hide and seek?”
She gives me a look that could cut through concrete.
“Alright then. What’s your favorite color?”
“Green. Yours?”
“Also green. Because apparently black’s not a color.”
She smiles. “Favorite food?”
I shrug. “I like all food. If I had to choose, probably pizza. Yours?”
“Boerekos.”
I frown at her. “The fuck is that?”
She shrugs, grinning around her stir fry. “Farmer’s food, rough translation. Rice, potatoes, meat. Or, as the natives put it, rys, vlys, en aartappels.”
“You can’t beat a bit of tatties and meat,” I agree. She actually looks like she could do with a good few helpings of tatties and meat right now. I almost wish she was staying longer so I could fatten her up for the winter. “Favorite film?”
She looks me in the eye and says, “Hoste
l. Maybe Saw.”
I try to hide my laugh and fail. “Are you just saying that because…?”
“That really so hard to believe?” she asks, shoving another fork full of stir-fry in her mouth. “What’s yours?”
I shrug. “I don’t have much time for, or interest in movies.”
“You should watch Hostel. That’s some fucked up shit. Right up your alley, too.”
I shake my head at her, chuckling. She thinks I enjoy this. Well, I guess I am enjoying it to an extent, but it’s not the sort of thing I mark on my calendar and count down the sleeps for. It’s just business. I’m not doing this for enjoyment, I’m doing it because it needs to be done.
But I guess I could try making it a bit easier for her. Maybe then when she gets out of here, she’ll remember I was nice when she’s tempted to ignore my threats and take herself down to the police station.
“Maybe I’ve got it upstairs. I could put it on if you want to watch it.”
She looks at me, a thousand questions flashing behind those pretty silver eyes, and then glances back down at her plate. “Yeah...no. I wouldn’t want to give you any fucked up ideas. Well, any more than you’ve had already.”
I laugh at her. “I don’t intend to get any ideas. I’m trying to be nice.”
She quirks her eyebrow again as if I’ve just sprouted two heads, and then sits back in her seat. “You’re giving me fucking whiplash.”
“I could give you whiplash, if that’s what you’d prefer?”
“Fine. Movie it is. But if I end up missing an eye because of this, I’m not going to be happy with you.”
I bite down on my lip and smile. “I wouldn’t be happy with me either. I like your eyes just fine the way they are. Come.”
I grab her plate and the half-finished glass of apple juice and she follows me toward the door. I know this is a bad idea. But she’s bored, and I’m bored. Cole is at work and the only thing I have to do is babysit her.
I’d make a shit actual babysitter, considering the film choice, but it’s what she wants. And to be honest, I could do with a night off from sitting in an empty room and wondering what the fuck my life has become.
She’s already sitting down on the sofa when I come back from the kitchen, her knees tucked up into her chest and my shirt pulled down over them.
“Cold?”
“Your house is freezing.”
Aye, so I definitely need to fatten her up before I send her on her merry way.
“I don’t feel the cold,” I tell her with a shrug, but I go and click the heating on anyway. I don’t bother getting another shirt because I’ll boil alive with the heating on.
I sit down on the opposite sofa and start scrolling through the menu to get to the search, but in the corner of my eye I still see her shivering. “Do you want a blanket?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Don’t say I didn’t offer.”
When I clap my hands to turn the lights off, she jumps.
I let out a chuckle under my breath as I press play on the movie. I thought the fetal position was because she was cold, but what if she’s actually scared or some shit? “Do you want a fucking cuddle or something?”
She looks across at me, and I swear she’s about to roll her eyes in a valiant attempt at looking dismissive, but for whatever reason, she pulls her legs out from the shirt and sits up.
“You promise not to roleplay the movie?”
I chuckle. “Blood and guts isn’t my type of roleplay. Cross my heart.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “And to think, all this time I’ve been scared of you.”
“Oh I’ll still take my hand across your arse if I have to,” I warn her.
She smiles as if I’m joking—ha!—and does the exact same pixie walk across the room she did on that first night.
I shift my position and make space for her to curl in beside me, which is no easy feat considering my size.
My upper thigh starts vibrating and for a whole two seconds I think this is some weird tantric sex move on her part. Then I realize it’s just my fucking phone. I pull it out, see it’s Derek, and quickly shut it off before sending a message to tell him to take it to Cole. I’m sick of being the only semi-responsible adult. I’m having a well-deserved night off.
I put the phone on do not disturb mode and throw it onto the couch opposite, then fix my gaze on the TV. But I’m no more watching it than flying in the air. My mind is too busy to take in any of it.
What am I actually doing? The last time I watched a film with a girl I was about fifteen, and it was only because back then it was a sure-fire way of getting a hand job.
This is unchartered territory for me. The whole thing is, but this exact situation wasn’t part of any plan. I guess I just wanted her to have a break, maybe. And take a break myself.
Especially after today. It’s draining having to play the bad guy all the fucking time. And it’s getting harder and harder to play the bad guy with her. When I kissed her earlier, that wasn’t part of the plan either. It just felt… necessary. I did it without thinking. And I know she didn’t hate it.
She wouldn’t be sitting here beside me, cuddled into my chest if she hated it, would she?
And why doesn’t she hate it? She should hate me. She should be terrified of me, but she’s not.
Fucking hell. I’m tying myself up in knots. I need to stop thinking about shit I have no business thinking about. We’re just a man and a woman forced together making the best out of an altogether shite situation. That’s all.
I try to concentrate on the movie.
I’m surprised she has the stomach for this, but apart from a few flinches here and there she mostly keeps her eyes on the television.
Only when we’re about half-way through do I hear her breathing change. I glance down at her, and right enough her eyes are closed and her mouth is slightly parted. Fast asleep and looking like an innocent little angel.
I should carry her back down to bed, but now I’m invested in how this ends. I can’t remember the last time I watched it.
So instead I shift her, letting her lie across my thighs so she doesn’t wake up with a kink in her neck.
I’m almost at the end of the film when she wakes.
Although ’wakes’ is the understatement of the century.
She’s doing that thing again. Fighting in her sleep. Jolting and trembling like Freddie Krueger himself is inside her dreams with a fucking chainsaw. Or maybe that was a different film—fuck knows—but I’m unprepared for how to handle this.
“Meisie,” I say. When she doesn’t respond I say it even louder.
She just mumbles something, I don’t even know what, utter fucking gibberish, and I tap her on the cheek.
Her hands fly up and all of a sudden she’s trying to push me away, but all that’s doing is about to land her on the floor with a thud. I grab her, purely so she doesn’t hurt herself, and try to restrain her but, fuck, she’s stronger in her sleep than she is when she’s awake.
Her eyes open, “Get the fuck off me!”
“You’re sleeping,” I tell her. “You were sleeping.”
Another push. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
She looks rattled as hell, glancing around the room like the walls are crawling.
What do I do? What the fuck is going on?
Is she even awake?
“No, Alex, let me go,” she cries, her breath coming out in huge gasps.
Again with this fucking Alex?
I have her locked down across my knees. I honestly can’t tell if she means that or if she’s about to start flailing like a banshee the second I do let her go.
“Meisie!” My voice is firm now. I’m talking to her like she’s a dog with its teeth clamped around my leg, but I don’t even know if she’s seeing me. Her eyes are open but she looks terrified.
She’s still trying to push herself off the sofa.
Is this because of the film? Fucking hell. Cole used to do this. Watc
h the 18R DVDs when we were ten and spend the whole night fighting demons.
I do to Meisie what I did to Cole back then.
I grab her, switch our positions, and physically restrain her.
She starts hyperventilating.
“Hey. It’s alright,” I say. “It’s just a dream.”
She blinks a few times, still trying to catch her breath.
I think she looks awake now? I don’t even know. I’m not even sure if this is a nightmare. When she did it the other morning I thought it was the drugs leaving her system. Hallucinating. She was calling out names and shit.
But maybe it’s not?
“Are you awake?”
She looks at me as if she’s only just this second realizing who I am.
“Why won’t you let me go? Please. I did what you wanted. I just want to go home. My real home.”
My heart feels like someone’s choking it in a vice. I swear to God it feels like a physical punch. She looks shattered. Broken. Her eyes are wet and her bottom lip is trembling.
I’m about to say yes. I want to say yes, and that’s one of the most terrifying thoughts I’ve had in my life.
This was a bad idea. The whole thing, the kiss, making her dinner, the movie. Trouble. Capital fucking T.
Of course this was going to happen. I’m mixing up things that shouldn’t be mixed. Blurring lines all over the place. This is one-hundred shades of gray and I don’t deal with that. Nope. Black and white all the way for me.
And if she ever knew how close I was to saying yes, she’d just exploit it.
Fuck this.
I’m up and off her like she’s a bed of hot coals, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her with me.
“Passed your bedtime, little girl.”
Her feet stumble as I move her across the carpet, so I lift her into my arms and carry her the rest of the way.
She thumps on my chest. “Put me down.”
“Nope.”
“Ugh!” She’s pushing against me but I keep my arms solid as we move down the stairs. “Put me down!”