by Nicole Snow
When I could finally see and breathe, he moved off me, lifting me in his arms. “You come so good, babe, when you finally let go. Never fight it with me. Ever. If I want you to blow, Cassie, then you just fucking do it. Remember what I told you before: good things come to good girls who know how to listen.”
He reached behind my back and fished for his belt. In one jerk, the leather was off. My hands were free. A reward, I guessed, for serving him so well.
An insult too, even if I was glad he'd released me.
Bastard. I wasn't a child or a pet to pat on the head after I'd done my duty.
Rocking forward, I fell, still dizzy with confusion and anger.
I steadied myself against his chest, laying my hands out. Big mistake.
Feeling his rock hard body only kindled new desire. It pulsed between my legs as my trembling fingers went up his abs and traced his chest. Slowly, I looked up, forcing myself to take in those eyes in the darkness, glowing with his intensity.
“Is this what you want?” He brought one hand to his collar and flicked open the top button on his shit. “Go ahead. Rip my fucking shirt open. You earned it.”
I instinctively licked my lips. My hands stopped just below his breasts, fiddling with one of the openings in between his buttons.
Just rip it? Was he serious?
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
His face hardened. I realized he was trying not to smile as he pushed my small hands aside with his and gripped both sides of his shirt. In one quick tug, the buttons went flying.
They bounced on the bed and clacked on the floor like pebbles. His shirt was open, baring his beautiful flesh, and he covered my hands in his, making me open up the fabric.
When I saw what he had there, I gasped.
Even in the dark, I could see the tattoos. Harsh black flames and elaborate geometric designs hooked over his chest and went down his shoulders, no doubt continuing on his back. Huge swords were crossed over his chest, so big and detailed I imagined he could pull them off his skin and cut someone's head off. He was a walking mural, decorated like a heathen warrior. The excitement rocked my desire, hot and wicked as hell.
I hadn't imagined it. The blackness stamped on his flesh was totally real.
I couldn't help myself. I pressed my face to the edge of his abs and kissed him, moving my lips up when his fingers pinched my chin and guided me.
Those addictive, dangerous fingers went through my hair again, caught the ends, and pulled. “Keep going, babe. Taste your sir.”
And I did. I tasted hate and addiction in every drop of his sweat, his delirious scent. I shuddered when his tattoos were underneath my tongue, Evan's power and mystery was there, achingly intimate. When I got as far as I could, he began to guide me down, tugging at my hair.
God, he was built. It was more obvious than ever with my mouth moving against his muscle, amazed that a man could sculpt his flesh like this. It was a universe away from the skinny and portly extremes men had on their bones in Beacon Grove.
Sin tastes bitter as ash. When you gorge, my children, gorge until you're sick. You'll remember that taste. No matter if it's filling your gut or brushing your tongue with unholy poison.
Remember it, and despite it, for it's the best way to understand the evil in temptations.
More of the Prophet's words burned in my brain. My tongue flicked against Evan's skin, searching for the revulsion I'd felt before, the poison, the sin.
Nothing.
Evan tasted simply wonderful. He was smooth, warm, and intoxicating. There wasn't a hint of evil on his flesh, only raging desire.
Scary? Hell yes. It terrified me to know my instincts about this man were right, that he only tortured me because he had to.
I only wanted to know why. What would drive a man to do this to another human being?
My chin scraped against the top of his jeans. His free hand reached and pulled. The gigantic bulge in the denim was insanely close to my lips, close to driving me crazy with new forbidden want.
“Open it,” he said, shifting back a little to give me access to his fly.
I looked at him. He was dead serious, commanding. I couldn't have said no if I wanted to, and the last thing I wanted to do was deny this.
My fingers went for his zipper. When it was open, he pushed his hand against the lump. A huge pulsing erection sprang out, and the fire that hadn't stopped churning in my belly exploded.
His cock was obscene and gorgeous at once. It pulsed around his fingers on the base, and he gripped it, rolling his fingers over it in one tight fist. Pearly fluid collected at the head and then oozed down, a single sticky droplet falling to the floor.
I jerked my head back when he pushed his tip close.
“Suck it, babe. For a girl your age, you got a lot of things to learn about men. Need to help your pretty ass make up for lost time. Take it.”
He grabbed my hand and pushed it to his shaft, replacing his own. It was warm and alive in my fingers. Tightening them around it was natural, and it rewarded me with a fiercer jerk when I caught the underside with my thumb.
“Open your sweet red lips. Fuck, you'll feel so goddamned good wrapped around me...” He couldn't wait anymore.
His other hand pushed at my head, renewing its grip on my hair. I barely opened my mouth in time to slide down and take his swollen head in my mouth. And he pushed me lower, lower, low enough to make me worry about how I'd keep breathing.
He shoved my head and locked me on his flesh. I panicked, spitting and grunting around his dick.
“Shhh. Just relax and open up. You'll thank me for this lesson later, babe.” His voice lowered to a growl. “This is what we call deep throating cock. Better get used to it because it's what a man expects with the hot fucking sugar you call lips.”
He pushed me to the brink. I thought I'd choke or die if I took any more down my throat, but then he relaxed, and I went sailing up in desperation. I moved until the back of my head hit his stiff, unmoving hand.
He pushed. Down I went.
Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!
I should've known. Just when I thought he was being sweet, he threw me into another test, another thing to torment and make me hate him.
If I had to satisfy him like this, then I wasn't going to let him know he was getting to me. I summoned up all my courage and calm and let his hand guide me. He began to thrust, driving his hips up to my lips, burying me deep on his cock.
I was full of him. So, so full. His scent and taste overwhelmed everything, lighting my senses on fire, burning away the hatred I tried to hold onto.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I remember he's a monster, even when he's choking me with sex?
Is this what sin tastes like? Bitterness beneath this thick, masculine shadow?
After the first few strokes, it wasn't so bad. I adjusted. The rhythm was one a girl could get lost in, allowing me to forget what was happening, that I was nothing but a slave in training.
His breathing turned ragged after what seemed like a few minutes. He panted, grunted, cursed, tensing his hand more fiercely against my head.
There was something sadistically enjoyable about controlling his pleasure. I sped up, faster than his hand could guide me, sucking harder and slamming my face to his hilt. His breath came hoarse, exhaling through his lips, snorting and cursing like an animal.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, baby girl! You keep that glorious shit up and I'm gonna –“
Without missing a beat, I reached for his balls. They were puckered, tense, ready to blow. I squeezed them gently as I took him as deep and fast as I could go.
His fingers caught my hair and jerked. Violent. Rough.
Red hot pleasure gurgled in his throat, and he threw his head back, thrusting his cock deep into my mouth. I hadn't expected it to swell, to turn to granite against my tongue, but it didn't stop me. I tongued his hot flesh, focusing all my effort in these strokes.
Go. I've given so much to you, so much I never wan
ted to give. Now you lose control...
Careful what you wish for. I should've learned that lesson long ago, and I certainly wish I'd known it then.
His eruption came, fiery and hot, overloading my mouth with salt and musk. So much seed, all his essence, pouring and pouring and pouring.
He pulsed and convulsed, pumping his come, until I could barely feel his cock in my mouth through the slick sea. My lips split, and the stuff spilled out, running down my chin in an endless mess.
Evan growled and locked my face to his cock all through the release. When it was finally over, dying in weaker, softer spasms, he relaxed his hand. I pulled back, still swallowing and spitting what he'd given me, coughing for air.
He stepped back, as if I wasn't the only one who needed to steady myself after that. I hadn't expected such terrible, draining force, but now he'd showing me that sex was nothing but power. I finally understood what men did behind closed doors, and it was strangely comforting.
I didn't care how much pleasure he gave me. If I knew, I could find another way to fight. There had to be some way to turn his own weapon against him.
“Fuck.” Evan's hand returned to my head, sifting slowly through my tangled hair. “There's room for improvement, babe, but you did good for a first try. Had to be your first, wasn't it?”
He pinched my neck until I nodded. When I looked up, his eyes were softer, mesmerizing.
Had his release driven something out of him?
His free hand circled my breasts, catching the ropes of come I'd lost. He slowly pushed each dab to my lips, and I sucked his finger, weakly repeating the explosive ritual we'd just finished.
“Good girl. Very good girl today. Maybe there's some fucking hope...”
Yeah, hope, I thought. Hope to get away from you before my whole life is choked out with a monster's flesh, and God knows what else...
I had to keep thinking like that. If I let anything else in, my body would remind me how exciting it was. The rough, painful, humiliating horror needed to be my focus.
Bastard! I thought, the single word I could never repeat so many times it turned meaningless.
It held my hate, and I clung to it. Right now, I hated myself most, hated the way I'd surrendered so easily and enjoyed the pleasure we shared. And, of course, I hated him for making me hate myself.
When the cleanup was finished – as much as it could be without a shower – he guided me to the bed and gave me one more kiss. He held his lips on mine, gentle but tight, enough to make the rampant desire I'd felt while I was taking his cock storm through me again.
He tasted himself on my lips, and I had a feeling it gave him pleasure. The kiss broke, and he rose, fixing his pants and looping the belt he'd used to bind my wrists back where it belonged.
I watched him head for the door, the ultimate reminder that nothing we were doing was remotely normal, and never would be.
Normal couples embraced and kissed and loved after sharing their flesh. No matter how many blind spots I had about the corrupted world, I knew that much. A colder, lonelier current than anything I'd ever felt swept through me.
He turned at the door. For a second, I had a sick, disgusting hope that he'd changed his mind and decided to keep me company.
“What is it?” I asked softly.
“Take a shower before you turn in. When I give you over to your real master, he's gonna want you clean. Morning, noon, and night. You can be a dirty whore when you're naked, but any other time, you act like a perfect lady. That's your job, Cassie. Doesn't fucking end when you're done slapping flesh. Remember it.”
The door opened, slammed, and the locks clicked with deafening loudness. I feel asleep, stained with sex and tears, long before I could think about dragging myself to the bathroom.
Izzy had been acting nervous all morning. More so than usual, I mean.
Everything I'd seen since the woman went off her whiskey told me she was a nervous wreck. She hid it well when he was around. But in front of me, she was always on edge, guiltily pecking out little orders and keeping her distance.
Why was she afraid of me? I really had to wonder. It was like an evil spirit had left her body since Evan caught her slapping me around and he laid down the law.
The bastard hadn't done much good, but I was thankful for that. I couldn't have handled two monsters in the same household whipping me like a puppy who'd done wrong.
Today, she was acting extra weird, starting with the shorts and T-shirt she'd given me to wear that morning. It was the first time in the house when I wasn't in a dress, prettied-up for his enjoyment.
After breakfast, she walked me to a closet near the garage.
“Need to get some tools,” Izzy said, more to herself than me. “We haven't had time to do a proper job on this for a long time. Besides, I think we can both use a little change of pace, right?”
I kept my distance. I didn't know how Evan would react if he caught me anywhere near the outside entrances, but I didn't want to find out. Certainly not due to her screw ups.
Not that it was easy to get out. The windows were reinforced with special locks, and so were many of the doors. Without the keys their keys, I was stuck in this place.
“Here you are!” she smiled, passing me a long machine with something motorized at the bottom.
It took me a little bit to realize it was some kind of lawn clipper. The little blades below gave it away.
She motioned me to follow, carrying a big bucket in her hand. I couldn't even process the fact we were heading outside until we were both in the garage. She tapped a panel near the door and the large doors slid up, opening to the long black driveway he'd taken me down after our nightmare in the rain.
I stood my ground, even as she walked around a gray SUV, which I assumed was her vehicle. Izzy turned to me and smiled.
“Come on! It's all right! We're doing a little lawn work today. It'll be good for both of us to breathe some fresh air.” I still wasn't moving, not until she said what I wanted. I had to know this wasn't a trick. “Evan knows, if that's what you're worried about. He approved this. Come on! This weed whacker's easy to use. You'll catch on in no time.”
She didn't ask me again. Izzy disappeared out the garage and went around the corner. After a few more seconds dawdling, I followed, passing through a nicely landscaped opening in some hedges.
It led into the biggest, fanciest garden I'd ever seen. The gardens at home were more like badly tended farms, community operations growing massive vegetables to store for the congregation in the winter.
Here, it was all about appearances. Beautiful flowers bloomed around a small stone fountain. Izzy's shoes clicked ahead of me, and I saw an overgrown path leading through, deeper into the property.
She was right.
Being out here was exhilarating after all that had happened. Between the monster in the house and the monster waiting for me somewhere else, I'd wondered if I could ever feel fresh air and soul again, naked sunlight warming my skin.
Clouds rolled overhead, broken in patches. When the golden light spilled on my pale skin, I smiled. A false freedom, sure, but I didn't care.
Out here, it was easy to believe my whole existence wasn't hell.
“Pick it up! We've got to go further!” Izzy called in her sing-song voice.
I gripped the weed whacker tight. Murder flashed in my brain as I followed her. I imagined shoving her down on the grass when her back was turned and pushing the whirring blades into her face.
But I wasn't that kind of woman. Even after all this, I couldn't kill her.
Izzy was an addled, screwed up woman and an accomplice to him. Still, she didn't deserve to die. I had a sick feeling whatever horrifying thing compelled him to do this to me did the same to her.
There was yet another opening in the hedges, flanked by a latticework canopy. I followed her through it. More gardens were on the other side. Many of the bright flowers were faded, but lush enough to be beautiful. They must've been jaw dropping in the summe
r. Rows upon rows of vegetables grew in the neat stacked boxes past the flowers. It looked like they housed enough food to feed an army.
Beyond the gardens, the hedges ended. A lone path wound toward a clearing in the woods, a little trail leading straight into the wild, with nothing but a flimsy gate bordering the spot where Evan's property ended and the forest began.
“What're we out here for?” I asked, hiding my raging escape fantasies.
Izzy turned and looked at me. Tears burbled in her big glassy eyes, and she had to swallow several times before speaking.
“I'm going to pick vegetables. There's a lot to bring in and can before too many ripe ones go to waste. Normally, Evan would have his landscapers do this, but they're on leave. It's all up to us.” Her voice was weak.
Okay, now things were getting weird. She must've seen the confusion on my face.
“You know how to use one of these, right?” She pointed to the weed whacker and watched me nod. “Perfect! I need you to take care of the weeds around the boxes, and then along the trail near the fence. When you're all finished...have a good life.”
Izzy's lip quivered. Her hands were folded in front of her, white knuckles bulging against her thin skin from the pressure.
My brain blanked out, and then the questions hit in a ruthless volley.
Was she serious? Was this another test? Were the tears building in her eyes the least bit sincere?
“Cassie. Forget the weeds.” She stepped forward and placed her palms on my cheeks. They were burning up. “Are you deaf? I said run!”
I dropped the weed whacker, turned, and took off without a glance back. My feet were beginning to burn when I reached the flimsy gate. I threw my hands against it and practically tore it off its hinge.
The deep, dark forest beckoned. I took off down the trail and must've went half a mile before the neat paved path narrowed and turned to dirt. At least she'd given me new sneakers this morning, new shoes to go with the hopes and fears twisting my stomach in fiery knots.
Run. Run. Don't look back.
I couldn't bear to see her face again. Not that there was much worry about that. Evan's whole big house would've been totally obscured by the dense trees. But I hadn't gone far enough, not until I was completely out of his grasp.
