by Sabre Rose
Before Sebastian arrives home, Cameron takes me back to my room. I’m standing at the window, looking out over the waving fields of grass when he walks in.
“My sweet songbird.” He slips his hands around my waist and sways in time to an unheard rhythm. “I missed you,” he murmurs against my ear. “It was so incredibly boring without you. So bland. So ordinary.” He sighs and it tickles my neck. “But I guess I will have to take that leap one day too. Marriage. It’s not even a pretty word, is it?”
My body tenses at the thought. Marriage. He doesn’t really think he can marry me, does he?
He senses the tightness in my stance and laughs, letting go of me and loosening the bowtie around his neck. “Oh, don’t worry, my pretty little songbird, it will not be you. No, you are my treasure meant to be kept away from the harsh lights of the world.” His shoes, jacket, shirt, and pants drop to the floor. “You are all mine and mine alone.” He’s naked now as he steps behind me. His arms slide around my waist and move to cup my breasts. “How was your day? Did you have a nice time with the girls?”
I swallow the scathing reply that lingers and smile, turning around in his arms and doing my best to keep that smile when I look into his eyes. “Yes, thank you. It was a very lovely day.”
“You are grateful I allowed you the company?”
“Very grateful.”
He pulls me close, his fingers digging into the flesh of my backside through my nightgown. His eyes fall to my chest, darkening when he spots the rise of my nipples through the translucent material.
“Things are so different between us than I expected them to be. We have a connection, a closeness, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Maestro.” There’s something so innocent in the way he accepts the words that fall from my lips. It’s almost as though he believes them.
His mouth lowers to mine and I fight the resistance that wells within. Seeing Ryker has made pretending that much harder. Every time I close my eyes, his face is there before me with such vivid clarity it’s almost as though I can feel his hands still cupping my face.
“I want to make love to you tonight.” His mouth drags over mine, his tongue dipping in to taste mine. “I want you to ride me while I watch you bounce on my cock.” His mouth is hungry against my skin. “Would you like that, hmm? If I allow you the control for once?” Throwing his head back, he laughs. “Maybe the wedding affected me more than I thought. My blood isn’t humming with the desire to hurt you tonight.”
Twisting me around suddenly, he presses my back to his chest and fumbles with the material of my gown, lifting it up my legs until I’m bare and exposed. His fingers push between my thighs.
“You’re not wet.”
My heart drums in my chest. Will I be punished for this? Will his desire to hurt me return? I desperately try to think of a response as his body hardens behind me.
“I’ve been away from you all day,” I say as sweetly as I can.
There’s a fraction of time before he responds when I almost feel as though I’m going to faint. The blood rushes from my body, leaving me feeling cold and clammy. My breathing starts to quicken.
But after a few moments, I feel him relaxing. “You did miss me.” He sighs again as his hand travels up my body and dips into my mouth, forcing four fingers inside. “Suck,” he orders, then uses the moisture covering his fingers to create easier access for him to plunge them between my legs. He groans as he slides them in and out. “Yes, the thought of you riding me is what got me through the day. Every time I had to shake someone’s hand or carry on a meaningless conversation just to keep my father happy, a vision of you, of your bouncing breasts and flushed cheeks got me through the boredom.”
He removes his fingers and pushes them back into my mouth. “Taste yourself. You taste so sweet.”
I squeeze out all thoughts of Ryker from my mind and numbly do as he commands. He rubs his hands over my mouth, cheeks, and chin, smearing my makeup before slipping the straps of my gown over my shoulders and letting the material fall to the ground. Then he turns to lie on the bed, stroking his hardness as he watches me.
“Come,” he orders. “Make love to me.”
Even though part of me wants to hurl myself through the open window, I walk over to him with what I hope are seductive movements and climb onto him.
“That’s it,” he encourages as I position myself over his cock. “Now just slowly slide down.” He sucks in air, biting his lip as I lower myself until I hesitate, the hardness of him stretching me too far. “Don’t stop.” His fingers dig into my hips. “All the way down.” He thrusts upward and pain shoots to my center, causing me to cry out, but he mistakes my pain for pleasure. Or maybe he doesn’t care. Or maybe he likes it.
Resting his hands behind his head, his tongue darts between his lips as he says, “On your feet and ride me.”
Lifting myself to squat over him, I feel every vein of his throbbing cock as I bounce up and down. He watches with eager eyes as I fuck him with bruising regularity until my thighs cramp in protest.
“Don’t stop,” he pants, his eyes now glued to where we are joined together. “I want you to come. I want to feel you clamp around me as you go over the edge with desire.” His words are pained and strained, holding back the release I know isn’t far away.
I bounce up and down, lowering my hands to his chest in an attempt to relieve some of the strain on my thighs.
“Stop, stop,” he groans as his hands grip my ankles and tug them backward until I fall to my knees. “Stay still and play with yourself until you come. I want to watch”
Closing my eyes, I try to block out where I am, who I’m with, and think of Ryker. I think of him on his knees before me, offering himself to me in a way that no one before has.
But Sebastian’s voice breaks my fantasy. “Look at me!”
His eyes turn me cold. There’s no release coiled within, no explosion waiting to be set free. Moaning with what I hope he confuses with ecstasy, I rub my fingers over myself, clenching my inner muscles to mimic an orgasm, crying out his name and collapsing onto his chest.
“Did you come?”
“Yes,” I pant, hoping I sound weak with satisfaction.
“Liar,” he hisses, grabbing a fist full of my hair and wrenching me off his chest. “Fucking liar.”
“No.” I try to shake my head but his grip is too tight. “I wouldn’t, I—”
He slaps me across the face, his cock growing harder inside me. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” Letting go of my hair, he grips my chin between his fingers. “You will learn to come on my command. You will never fake it.” He slaps me again. “What do you say?”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“Yes, Maestro, what?” His commands are confusing and inconsistent. I never know what’s expected of me.
“Yes, Maestro, it is my pleasure to obey your command.”
He slaps me again. They are quick slaps meant to sting, not to damage, but they still bring tears to my eyes. I thought I might be out of tears by now, but it seems my supply is undiminished.
“Now.” He jerks his hips, thrusting into me. “Play with yourself until you come.”
Lowering my hand again, I start to rub circles over myself, closing my eyes again and desperately hoping he doesn’t ask me to look at him. Pain shoots through me as he twists my nipples painfully, rolling them between his fingers and his thumb time and time again as tears fall from my eyes.
“Good girl,” he coos when I jut my chest out for him. His hands are like claws as they scratch over my flesh. “Now come,” he orders.
Panic shoots through me, knowing that the desire isn’t there. I can’t come and I can’t fool him by faking it. I rub over myself furiously, but it’s no good. There’s nothing there.
So I think of him.
Ryker.
I think of his eyes boring into mine and the storm of conflict that constantly battles within them. I think of the way I felt when he kissed me today, and I change the narrative o
f what happened between us and imagine him pressing me against the wall, our mouths colliding in feverish passion. Warmth starts to coil within me and I press my eyes tighter, blocking out all sights and sounds of Sebastian and thinking only of Ryker. I imagine him pushing up my skirts and seeing me bare and ready for him. He would have groaned and lowered himself to the floor, pulling me toward him and inhaling my scent. And then his mouth would have been on me and I would have threaded my hands into his hair, pulling him even closer as he sucked and licked. I would have come so close.
A groan escapes and Sebastian rocks beneath me. “Come my sweet songbird,” he says, ruining my fantasy.
I push him out of my mind. I would have pulled Ryker to his feet before I came, and he would have plunged inside me, holding me against the wall and kissing me tenderly. The base of his cock would have slid over my wetness and we would have come together, Ryker gripping the sides of my face and groaning the cry of his release into my mouth.
It is enough to take me away. Enough that the thought of him unraveling inside me makes my muscles clench as I come violently, and I rock forward, almost falling to Sebastian’s chest, but he catches me and holds me away, shielding my body from his and lifting my backside up enough that he can drive into me rapidly before I feel his release.
Once his cock stops throbbing, once every ounce of his release is inside me, he pushes me off, getting up from the bed and stretching high into the air.
“Tomorrow we will start your voice training.”
And then he strides from the room, fully naked, and leaves me as a huddled pile of misery on the bed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MIA
“Again!” Sebastian’s voice echoes off the walls of the music room.
I stand beside the piano, illuminated by a single spotlight that shines from above. The heat of it burns into my scalp and a fine sheen of sweat covers my body despite the fact that the rest of me is almost frozen. My throat feels as though it’s torn to shreds, stretched too far while attempting to reach notes impossibly high.
Over the course of the past few hours, Sebastian has ripped the clothing from my body in fits of rage. For days, he has done nothing but demand I sing the same song over and over, determined that it will be stained with perfection before I perform for his mother. I’m weak from lack of sleep and lack of food, but Sebastian won’t let me stop until he’s satisfied. He’s made me gargle olive oil, he’s insisted on keeping me hydrated in order to soothe my vocals cords but he hasn’t allowed me the one thing I need. Rest. But my voice isn’t strong enough, isn’t powerful enough to hit the notes he’s demanding of it.
Silent tears fall, and I push them away with the backs of my hands, annoyed by their presence. Tears have become my constant companion, but they only make the tightness in my throat more painful. They only make my voice crack and bleed. They only anger Sebastian.
Sebastian presses play on the soundtrack and stalks over to walk circles around me, watching as I open my mouth to sing once again. Each breath feels like a blade slicing down the sides of my throat. I make it through the first two parts of the duet flawlessly, pushing through the pain and discomfort, and defying him by allowing the tears to keep falling.
My body is so weak and weary I long to collapse to the floor, but if I did, Sebastian would only drag me to my feet again, the unspoken threat of his belt lying across the lid of the piano. Even though my body is flooded with exhaustion, Sebastian seems to thrive on the lack of sleep. His movements are jilted and skittish, as though there is too much energy contained within him and it needs a way to escape. Rather than his normal slicked-back hairstyle, his hair flops messily over his eyes, giving him an even more boyish appearance. He’s dressed only in his silk pajama pants again, the cuffs of the material tainted with dust from the hours they’ve spent sliding across the floor.
I close my eyes as the song reaches its climax, hoping that this time my voice will hold out and reach the notes demanded of it. I don’t look at the door hoping for a savior, I stopped that hours ago, or days ago. I don’t think of Ryker and hope that somehow he will save me. I don’t cry with desperation, hoping that Cameron, or Sebastian’s mother, or even his father would pop their head through the door and distract Sebastian long enough so I could get a moment to rest.
Three days ago, when we first started to practice, Sebastian was filled with such excitement, proud of the potential he said lay in my voice. But my progress did not come quick enough for him and soon his impatience won over, insisting I sing the song over and over until I could barely stand upright. Only then did he allow me a couple of hours sleep. But he woke me in the middle of the night, dragging me back to the music room and not letting me leave except to use the bathroom.
Once, when I did fall to the ground, Sebastian raised his belt and struck me until I dragged myself back to my feet and sang the song again.
And now, as I let the lyrics fall from my mouth, swallowing the pain, there’s a disconnection between me and the girl standing under the spotlight. Almost as though I’ve floated away and am watching her from afar. Watching the way Sebastian stalks around her with barely controlled rage. Watching the way her face is void of emotion, her mouth opening and closing, forming the words that have become nothing more than muscle memory.
But as the notes rise, my voice cracks and fails once again.
“No!” Sebastian clenches his fists. “You’re not putting enough into it. There’s not enough emotion. Not enough of you.” He juts a finger into my chest then runs the nail upward until it rests against my throat. “Music does not come from this.” The fingers of his hand spread out to embrace my throat, reinforcing his words. “Music comes from the soul.” Trailing his hand down my body, between my breasts, he pushes against the soft flesh of my stomach. “It comes from deep within you. It comes from everything you’ve ever felt. It’s more than words, more than notes. It is life. Breath itself. You must pour every ounce of yourself into it. Music demands everything of you. It will not accept anything less. It will not accept this pathetic attempt you’ve been trying to pass off as talent.” He grips my chin between his fingers, rubbing against the bruises that are already there. “It cannot be fooled with a part of you. I cannot be fooled with a part of you.” His face is so close his breath hits me powerfully, washing over me like acid. “I need all of you.” He takes a few steps back. “Again!”
I sink to my knees, too weary to stand, too weary to consider his reaction. “Sebastian, please.” I flinch when his eyes widen and quickly change my words, never knowing which name I am supposed to call him by. “Maestro, please. I can’t go on. I need to rest. My throat feels raw. I need—”
“Again!” he roars.
I start to shake my head, tears falling to the wooden floor and resting on the boards like dewdrops. “I can’t—”
Sebastian grabs me under my armpits, dragging me to my feet. “Again.” He says it quietly this time, hissed in my ear, his tongue darting out to moisten my neck.
My throat constricts as he leaves me to start the soundtrack again. He walks far away, dragging a seat from the corner of the room and placing it before me, just outside the ring of light, so he’s sitting in the shadows with only the gleam of his eyes visible. I keep my gaze fixed on them as I recite the lyrics, doing my best to relax my throat and sing through the pain. When I near the end, when I reach the part when my voice must lift the highest, Sebastian leans forward, his eyes shining with anticipation. The first note comes out unwaveringly and Sebastian gets to his feet, his body swaying and convulsing in time to the music, urging me to keep going as my voice rises, joining the stars until the final note floats through the air as perfection.
Sebastian pulls me to him, crushing me with his embrace and I collapse into his arms, sobbing both tears and laughter into his bare chest.
“You did it.” He presses a kiss to my scalp. “It was wonderful, so raw, so real. It was beyond perfection.” The last words are ushered from his mouth reverent
ly as he pulls back to look me in the eye. “You are my siren, my angel of music and I just died by your voice.”
I’m sobbing from relief and exhaustion and the million other emotions which are racing through me. Clutching onto Sebastian as though my life depends on it, I press myself into his chest, not caring that it is his cruelty that put me here.
“I can’t wait for her to hear you. She will fall for you just like I have. She will see the beauty inside you and know that I have made the right decision.” He strokes my hair as he talks, more to himself than to me. “You will perform tomorrow. You will sing the song again and you will win her over.”
Even though I hear his words, even though my brain recoils at the thought of singing again so soon, I don’t protest. There’s nothing left within me. I just cling to Sebastian, hoping some of the fire within him will somehow warm my limbs.
Scooping me in his arms, Sebastian cradles me close to his body, walking over to the door and pushing them open with his back as he carries me. He takes the main stairway up the center of the house, not caring that I am naked. Not caring that he is disheveled and dressed only in silk pants. I can barely keep awake. My eyes fall closed repeatedly and I jerk them back open, straining to keep aware of my surroundings.
I catch glimpses of the paintings as we walk down the hall, fragments of the woven map stretched over the dark wood, flashes of the lights set with sporadic regularity. When we stop outside the door to my room, I let my head fall against him, giving up on my efforts to keep my eyes open.
“I’m not even going to ask,” his father’s voice booms through the silence.
My head lifts as though by its own accord from his chest, and I blink, trying to focus my eyes on Senior. But it’s not his eyes I find staring back at me. Instead, they are gray and green and blue, and they burn with denied intensity. Ryker. His head shakes imperceptibly as he warns me not to speak.
