His words are a reminder that the last time he was in here, he made promises he didn’t keep, taunted me for wanting what I know he’s capable of giving.
I didn’t respond the way he wanted me to, and this is his way of punishing me for it. I’m a fan of being punished, but he’s torturing with denial.
Denial of pain, denial of orgasm.
“I fucking hate you,” I growl, but it only makes him smile wider.
The man is fucking disarming, so goddamned handsome that I have to look away from him.
He’s not classically good looking. He’s the man women cross the street to get away from. They would read his dark eyes as soulless, and they’d be right.
They see him as a monster. To me? He’s utter fucking perfection.
And I hate him for it.
“I hate you, too,” he responds, but that sinister smile never leaves his lips as he trails a finger up my hip to my ribcage.
I do my best not to wiggle away from his touch, but it proves to be too much. My nerves are fried, and my control over my body isn’t what it normally is.
“You know how to get released.”
“I’m not agreeing to anything you want. I’m going to live my life how I want.”
His eyes lift to mine, and he spends a minute just staring at me. It’s unnerving, as if he can see right through me without even trying.
“Your life is mine to dictate.”
His fingers start to move over my flesh again, tracing my collarbone, teasing my nipples.
He chuckles when I try to close my tied legs as he inches down my stomach.
“There’s another way to get loose.”
I bite my lip to keep myself from speaking.
El Salvador.
He’s reminding me that four simple syllables will have me untied and freed.
If I do, I lose.
If I do, I’ll be expected to leave.
I never want to be defeated, so I’ll never say the words.
He wants to break me. I know it in every cell in my body.
Like I know he won’t give up until it eventually happens.
The idea of that doesn’t bother me as much as it should.
What makes me want to scream is if I survive it, he’ll be done. No one wants a broken toy.
I try not to concentrate on it, but I know I don’t want to leave. I don’t like the realization, but that’s the truth.
There’s something about this man, the fact that he can give me every single thing my dark heart desires, that makes me want to stick around.
His procession, whatever it is that’s driving him to keep me around, won’t last forever, and that’s what causes the real pain.