For Him: The Complete Series: A Dark Romance

by Marissa Farrar

  Ah, there it was. The tang of gasoline hit my nose as I lifted the can. I wouldn’t need the whole thing. Just a little would do.

  I looked around again to find something into which I could pour what I needed. There was a small metal can holding some old paintbrushes, so I emptied them out and gave it a shake to make sure it was empty. I undid the lid of the gas container and carefully poured a little of it out into the jar.

  There, that would do it. This would definitely help get the fire lit.

  Putting the caddy back where I’d found it, I took the small amount of gasoline back into the living room where the fireplace was.

  “Okay, I’ve got this,” I muttered to myself.

  I repeated the process of lighting the kindling with the match. As soon as it looked like there was the flicker of a flame, I picked up the small jar containing the fuel, and poured it on.

  The gas hit the match, but instead of the fire traveling over the wood, a blue flame shot up the trickle of fuel that I was still pouring. I watched in horror as it hit the metal can I was holding, and the whole thing burst into flames.

  “Argh!” Heat scorched my fingers, and without thinking, I threw the can, only wanting to not be holding it any more.

  But the can still contained some of the gas and it hit the rug, spattering in tiny fireballs across the mat.

  “Oh, God.”

  The flames quickly took hold.

  Panic blinded my mind, and I grabbed one of the cushions from the couch and used it to beat at the flames. Only the material absorbed more of the gas, and before I knew it, the cushion was on fire, too.

  I sucked air into my lungs, knowing I was in way over my head. “Father! Help! Someone help!”

  Feet came pounding toward me, and my father burst into the room.

  “What the hell have you done?”

  “I’m sorry,” I shook my head in terror, both of the fire and my father’s reaction. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to get the fire lit.”

  The staff rushed in as well, and a couple of my father’s men. They all got to work stamping on the flames, smothering them.

  “Get him out of here,” my father snapped.

  I was dragged away from the burning room, my eyes wide with horror. It had all happened so fast. I paced out in the hallway, praying they’d managed to get the fire under control. My mouth was dry with fear, and the fingers of my right hand stung badly from where they’d been burned. I wasn’t going to mention the burns, though. I knew I wouldn’t get any sympathy.

  Finally, my father emerged, his face white with anger. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I only wanted to get the fire lit for you.”

  “By throwing gasoline over it?” He tugged his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”

  I hated seeing my father so disappointed with me. “I’m sorry,” I said for the thousandth time.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Angelo. The whole house could have gone up. Do you think we could just call the fire department and have them come up and put it out? They’re hours away, and even if they weren’t, we can’t allow people like that here. They’d ask too many questions.” His lips thinned, his jaw rigid. “I’m sorry, son, but you can’t expect something of this magnitude to go unpunished.”

  I’d known it was coming, terror striking my soul. “No, Father, please. I won’t do it again. I learned my lesson.”

  “I think you need some time to really contemplate what might have happened because of your stupidity. I think you need some time in the hole.”

  I shook my head, frantic. “No, no. Not the hole. I said I’d never do it again. I already learned my lesson.”

  But he grabbed me by the arm. There was no point in fighting him. He always won eventually.

  He dragged me down the hallway. I was sobbing like a little girl, and the staff we passed shot me sympathetic glances, but no one interrupted. I was my father’s son, and he could do whatever he pleased to me. I was no one else’s business.

  We arrived at the old empty room at the back of the house, and he opened the door. There was only one item of furniture in the room—a huge, solid wood wardrobe, with double doors that locked with an old-fashioned key.

  “No, Father. Please.” I knew it would do no good, but I couldn’t help pleading with him.

  He yanked me across the room and opened one of the cupboard doors. The inside was dark and dank, and still stank of stale urine from the last time I’d been in there.

  He gave me another shove, pushing me forward. “In you get, son. Think about what you did.”

  With my head down and tears pouring down my face, I climbed into the cupboard. The doors shut behind me, encasing me in the darkness, and I heard the lock click.

  “No, please. Let me out! Please, let me out!” I slammed my fists against the locked doors, screaming until my throat was sore. I pummelled and pounded and yelled, the realization that I was going to have to go through this again too much for me to take.

  But I knew he’d already gone. He couldn’t even hear me. I was all alone.

  I sat back, panting, panic threatening to take over. With a shaking hand, I extended my fore and middle finger and tapped them against my thigh. Each tap hurt because of my burns, but I didn’t even care. I needed the pain. It meant I was still alive.

  “One,” I counted out loud. “Two, three, four...” With each tap, the panic resided just another fraction. “Five, six, seven.” I stopped when I got to seven. It was a good number, though I couldn’t have said why, and then I started again. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.” And again. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”

  I kept going, repeating the tapping, even though it stung my burned fingers. How long would he leave me in here? The last time had only been a day, but I’d only forgotten to do my homework that time.

  I’d almost burned down the house.

  The hole would be my home for days.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Present Day

  WE ONLY HAD THREE DAYS left until Torres arrived to take Catalina away.

  Ridiculously, nerves clenched my gut as I lifted my hand and rapped on the door with my knuckles.

  Once, twice.

  The urge to keep knocking until I’d reached seven suddenly caught me in its grip. Two just felt wrong, and my fingers twitched. In my head, I could see myself doing it, continuing the number until I reached the amount that felt right to me. It would only be another five. That would be reasonable, wouldn’t it? If I left it much longer, I wouldn’t even be able to use the two knocks as part of the sequence and I’d have to start again.

  I fought against it, but I knew I wasn’t going to win. I never won this fight.

  I couldn’t keep knocking, but I could tap.

  Three, four, five, six, seven... With each tap of the two fingers against my leg, I mouthed the numbers, counting along. For some reason, just saying them in my head didn’t work. I’d tried it before, countless times. Saying them aloud got people asking too many questions, and somehow I’d come to a compromise that mouthing the numbers was enough. Sometimes, I caught people giving me quizzical looks, probably thinking I was talking to myself. Maybe, in a way, that was exactly what I was doing.

  I remembered when it started. I didn’t always need to count, too. Many years ago, the tapping had been enough to keep the panic at bay, but then one day it wasn’t.

  These things weren’t expected of a man. Men didn’t panic—especially not men like my father. They didn’t need to count to fight back the rising tsunami of fear and loss of control. They didn’t need to tap to focus their attention enough to prevent them being swept away by it all, washed away and lost forever.

  I didn’t want her to see it, though. I’d always done such a good job of hiding my compulsions from her. In her eyes, I was perfect, and I wanted things to stay that way. Of course, I knew I was far from perfect, but that didn’t stop me fro
m striving. My father had done everything he could to ensure I grew up to be as much a man as he was. Every mistake I’d ever made had been punished.

  The door opened, and I jumped.

  She distracted me from my compulsions. Catalina’s dress wasn’t the same one from before. This was short and black, with spaghetti straps. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands clenched in front of her body, her head down.

  I looked beyond her. She’d brought some of her belongings from her bedroom to this new room. A stack of her books—many of which I’d given her over the years—was balanced on the bedside table. They were all at different angles, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from walking over and straightening them up, with all the spines facing the same direction.

  I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. Still, Catalina remained in one place, her head down. Even though she’d always been taught to be demure, there was something different about her.

  “Is everything all right, Kitty?”

  She still didn’t lift her gaze to mine, but she nodded. “Yes, fine.”

  I wanted to hold her, to pull her into my arms and bury my face in her hair. Something seemed wrong, but it didn’t look as though she was willing to tell me. “Are you ready for another lesson?”

  My cock instantly stiffened at the thought.

  That same small nod again. “Of course.”

  Maybe she didn’t want to do this? I hadn’t gotten the impression from her the previous time that she was unhappy with the situation. If anything, she’d been the one pushing it.

  “Are you sure everything is all right? You seem quiet.”

  She blinked, and a smile tweaked her cheeks, though to me it appeared forced. “Yes, I’ve just realized how different my life is going to be in a few days. I guess I’d always accepted it before, but hadn’t actually given it any thought.”

  My stomach twisted. I wished I could do something to help her, but things were what they were. You didn’t mess with a man like Elliot Torres, or my father either, for that matter. I was helping her now, by showing her what was expected of her.

  “Just make sure you do everything to make him adore you, Catalina. Make him fall in love with you, and he’ll treat you like a queen.”

  Her gaze flickered to mine. “Fall in love with me? I have no idea how to do that.”

  “You’re beautiful, Catalina. Just make him feel good about himself when he is around you, and he’ll soon fall for you. When he does, he’ll want to protect you, not hurt you.”

  That flicker of her gaze to mine again. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  My voice softened. “It’s a fact. It’s not only what I think.”

  Her smile widened and reached her eyes now. “Thank you.”

  How could I be cruel to this fragile, exquisite creature? I felt as though someone had just placed a rare flower in the palm of my hand, and I was about to crush it.

  But time was passing by. I needed to get on with this and show her what she needed to know.

  “Have you ever touched a man’s cock?” I asked her.

  The question seemed to shock her a little. “No. No, I haven’t.” Her cheeks and chest flushed so easily. It was such a pretty look on her.

  “Do you think it’s time?”

  Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and she nodded.

  “I want you to come over here and take out my dick.”

  My pulse quickened, a fresh surge of blood rushing to my groin, making me even harder. She took a couple of steps over to me, stopping so close the top of her head was right under my nose. I could smell her shampoo, and my lips tingled, wishing I could place a kiss in that soft, fragrant hair.

  She reached out to my zipper and hesitated. The length of my erection pressed against the inside of the material of my pants.

  “Be confident,” I encouraged her. “You won’t break me.”

  She bit her lower lip again, and the sight made me want to crush my mouth to hers, but I held myself back. Her fingers caught hold of my zipper, and she dragged it down, the high-pitched rasp filling the room.

  “Now the button,” I told her.

  She popped open the button, and the pants loosened around my hips.

  “Pull out my cock, Catalina.”

  I still could barely believe I was saying those words to her. Images of her as a little girl threatened to crowd out my thoughts and wilt my erection, but I pushed them away. Her fingers slipped inside my pants, and her warm skin met mine. She let out a little gasp as she pulled me free and I bobbed out into the space between us.

  Catalina swallowed, and her gaze flitted up to mine, her blue eyes wide.

  “Good,” I told her, trying to be encouraging, though my breathing had already grown ragged. Fuck, this was going to kill me. “Now you need to stroke it a little.” She did exactly what I said, petting my dick like it was a cat, and I had to hold back a burst of laughter. I didn’t think she’d appreciate me laughing at her. Instead, I wrapped my fingers over the top of hers, showing her how to circle my cock in her fist. I squeezed slightly, demonstrating the pressure I liked when I masturbated, and my cock grew even harder.

  “I didn’t know,” she murmured.

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “Didn’t know it would feel so hard. But still so silky soft at the same time.” She gazed up at me again, and once more I had to stop myself kissing her. “Now what do I do?”

  “Now you move up and down, like this.” With her fingers still trapped, I demonstrated. “Start off slowly and then get faster.” My cock jerked, and I pressed further into our combined hands.

  “Can I try on my own?”

  I nodded and released the hold I had on both her and myself. “Of course.”

  Those teeth dug into her lip again, and she stared down at my dick, her small fist still around my cock, moving up and down. Arousal was coiling in my groin, my balls tightening up.

  “Am I doing it right?”

  Fuck, she was so eager to please.

  “Yes,” I gasped. “That’s good. You can keep going like that, or you can go down on your knees and use your mouth next.”

  Her tongue swiped across the teeth marks in her lower lip, leaving a wet trail of saliva. “I can try.”

  “Good. It will be expected of you.”

  Obediently, she got to her knees. My cock bobbed in front of her face as though it had a mind of its own and was eager for what she offered.

  “Now, hold my cock in one hand, and just use your tongue for a moment. Get acquainted with the taste and how it feels.”

  She poked out her pink tongue, and I clenched my fists at my side, holding myself back from grabbing the back of her head and ramming my dick down her throat. Fuck, I wanted her so badly. Who would have thought it? My little Kitty-cat, now sucking my cock.

  Catalina did as I’d instructed and held my base with one hand, and then leaned forward, her lips parted. Her tongue swept over the domed head, taking the drop of pre-cum from the slit.

  She licked her lips. “Salty.”

  I nodded. “It’s supposed to taste like that.” My voice was hoarse with desire. It was taking every effort for me not to fuck her face. No wonder my father felt like I was the only one he could trust with this job. It was only because I knew her, and because we shared history together, that made me care for how she experienced this. Any other man would have lost control over her sweet but incredibly sexy innocence right now.

  She dipped back in, swirling her tongue around the head, and then licking me up and down like I was a goddamned popsicle.

  She paused momentarily. “Does that feel good?”

  I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, it feels fucking amazing, but now you have to suck me.”

  She eyed my size doubtfully. “Suck the whole thing?”

  “Start with the head, and then slowly work your way down.”

  She parted her lips and then slid them down over the head of my cock. The soft wetness of her tongue cushio
ned the base of my dick, and her teeth grated the top, making me suck in air.

  “Less teeth,” I told her. “Use your lips to protect my skin from them.”

  I looked down, watching my cock disappear into her mouth.

  My hand trembled above her head. I wanted to knot my fists in her hair and thrust my hips forward, making her take me deeper, but I didn’t want to scare her off. There would be plenty of men in her future who would do exactly that to her, and for the moment, at least, I didn’t want to be one of those men.

  To my surprise, I experienced a flash of jealousy at those future men. But that was who she was—who she’d always been destined to become—and for that brief, dangerous moment, I imagined having her all to myself.

  I remembered I was supposed to be instructing her. “Go as deep as you can and then pull back and go down again. Use your tongue to swirl around the tip.”

  God, she was good at this. I wanted to give her more instruction, but I was starting to lose myself in the feel of her mouth on me.

  “You can touch my balls,” I managed to grate out. “Some guys like a finger in the ass, too, but you need to check that’s what they want. Don’t just go straight in there.” Her eyes widened at me, and I knew she had questions, but I wasn’t going to let her stop there. I was already getting close.

  “And you need to swallow.” I let out a groan as she sank even deeper. For a total novice, she was doing really fucking well. “Torres won’t want to be spat on.”

  I didn’t know that for sure, but it was a pretty good guess. He’d want her to think his seed was like getting fed freaking caviar. Not a drop should be spilled.

  “Fuck, I’m close, Catalina. Get ready, ’cause I’m coming.”

  She gave me the slightest nod, her hand still around the base of my cock, her head bobbing back and forth as she took me. I’d managed to keep my hands off her, but as my orgasm broke, my fingers landed in her hair. I let out a groan, cum rocketing up from my balls which were now tight in my body, and shooting from my slit. I bucked my hips forward, keeping my fingers knotted in her hair to keep her in place. This would be easier for her if I just shot straight down the back of her throat. Less chance of it spilling from the sides of her mouth and making a mess.