Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up.
I threw up.
11
Granite
The lookon her face was priceless. Her skin was already naturally pale. The sight of blood on my hands and clothing turned her complexion to a ghostly white. It didn’t require rocket science to know she was about to vomit. Even if I wasn’t covered in blood, the two chocolate bars Neon made her eat would have done the trick on its own.
I watched silently as she hurled, her body jerking as it rid itself of the four hundred calories she just shoved down her throat.
Alyx kept vomiting until there was nothing left and she started to dry-heave. I leaned against the doorframe. “You should have eaten the salad.”
“Screw you,” she spat, hands on her knees and hunched over.
I walked in and shut the door. “You know, for a woman who’s in the position you are, you sure know how to dig yourself a deeper hole by talking shit.”
“That’s funny because from where I’m standing,” she stood straight, “it doesn’t seem like the hole can get any deeper.”
I looked at the black t-shirt she had on and frowned. “Apparently, my babysitter has a sense of humor.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then took a seat on the bed. Her hair was wet, and judging by the sharp scent of vanilla and soap, I’d guess Neon had her take a shower. Pity the pungent stench of vomit was starting to ruin it.
I glanced at the vomit on the floor then back at her. “It’s a shame mommy wasn’t here to see it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“She would’ve been real glad to see her pretty little ballerina purge herself of some unwanted calories.”
By the way she glowered at me from underneath those thick, dark lashes, I could practically feel the hate she was directing at me. “You don’t know me, so stop pretending you do.”
“Remember my warning, ballerina girl.” I took a step closer. “Do not think you can fuck with me. You’ll lose.”
She stood from the bed, hardly tall enough to be intimidating. Neon’s shirt was way too big, the pair of jeans nowhere close to hugging the curves she didn’t even have. “I don’t think I have much more to lose here.”
I cocked a brow. She thought she left enough distance between us, but I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her right up to me, proving her wrong. Her breath escaped with a huff, her neck leaning back as she stared up at me. I had to be a fucking psycho because not even the putrid smell of chocolate vomit could keep my cock from getting hard for her.
My grip around her arm tightened, and she didn’t fight me. She didn’t even try. She was like a meek lamb in my grasp, just waiting to see what I’d do next.
I grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her neck and pulled her head back even more with a violent tug. The most titillating yelp left her lips, and it shot all the way through my insides, slamming against the head of my cock.
Letting go of her arm, I cupped her between her legs, gripping her pussy through the denim jeans. “Oh, you still have something to lose, all right. Something I’m hellbent on taking.”
With parted lips and rapidly blinking eyes, she stared up at me in fear. But there was something else hiding in the blue swirls of her irises, giving me the same feeling I got whenever she stared at me from her bedroom window. It gnawed at my bones, an exhilarating feeling of desire that made my groin ache. That was the best part of our midnight visits to the commissioner’s house, the desire she managed to radiate from two fucking floors up. It was toxic, yet addictive. Every goddamn time it felt the same. Powerful. Sinful. Bewitching. And every night I looked up at the girl in the window, I knew the day would come that my addiction to it would ruin me. Now, while I looked into her eyes, it warned me the time was nearing. My ruin was approaching fast.
At the brink of losing control, I yanked her to the side, loving the whimpering sounds that came out of her mouth. I pushed her down into the chair that stood in the corner, her tiny body slamming into the wooden seat.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was a plea even though she tried to sound fierce.
I grabbed some of the rope that was left on the floor and tied her wrists to the chair.
“Please don’t. Don’t do this.”
“It’s already done.”
Round and round and round, I tied the rope, tightening it, watching her flinch as the fibers cut into her flesh. It had to be this way. I had to teach her a lesson. She was not allowed to disrespect me or think she had the balls to fight me, or all this would be shot to shit. Plus, her fight was fucking with my resolve by making this all way more fun than it was supposed to be. It would make me lose control, something she wasn’t ready to handle.
I made quick work of tying her ankles to the chair as well before moving in behind her. “Try not to squirm or scream. The rope will tear through your flesh if you do.” She moaned when I placed the rope between her lips, and the sound made the tip of my cock throb.