by Esme Devlin
I let out a huge sigh as he pulls his hand away from me and slides up my body.
His chest covers my head, and finally, I feel like I can breathe again.
My hands go to his shoulders, trying to keep him there. I’ve gone from pushing him away to pulling him closer in the space of a heartbeat.
His nails drag down the left side of my body, so hard I’m convinced he must have broken the skin. And just like that, I’m trying to push him away again. I let out a cry and feel his chest move as he laughs.
“I fucking ha…” The words trail off into a moan as he grinds himself against my parted center.
“You what?” he says, laughing. “Please, repeat that.”
I shake my head. He clearly loves this.
He grabs my breast and presses my nipple between his two fingers, causing another cry to escape from my lips.
This time I don’t tell him I hate him. This time I swear under my breath. I feel as though my body is so confused it doesn’t even know how to process this anymore.
Am I sore?
Am I enjoying this?
I don’t know. Likely both.
The pressure on my breast only increases, and now I’m the one grinding against him, because although confused, my body knows that’s the one thing that makes it feel better.
“You are glorious,” he says, pushing against me, grinding into me harder. “You take it so beautifully. So perfectly. It’s as if someone made you just to fit me.”
His words, his confessions of need and lust, send me into a lightheaded daze.
I find myself wanting that to be true.
I have never been made to feel this wanted in my life. I’ve always been special, but never because of anything I could control. I was only ever special because of my eyes. Something I was born with. Baron makes me feel special because of the way I make him feel. And there is something so alluring about that.
Even though he’s hurting me, I get the sense he is holding back.
He is careful.
He could have bent me over and fucked me brutally… if he really wanted to hurt me, that’s exactly what he would have done. I wonder what it would be like to let him have his way. To let him do whatever he wanted. To have no limits with him.
The thought terrifies me, but I’m so used to that feeling now that it doesn’t have the same punch, and I can’t help my own curiosity.
I wish I could see his face.
I wish this could be real.
He pulls me up with him until I’m sitting on his thighs. One hand holds my hip, ensuring I can’t move, while the other one strokes his own hardness between us.
When he slides it along my entrance I throw my arms around him, clinging to him for support. My knees feel weak. I’m breathless from the lack of air. From how hot it is in here. I feel both dizzy and desperate.
He inches inside me, and already I know this is going to be worse than what came before. There isn’t space for him. I let out a cry as he pushes himself in farther, which turns into a relieved sigh when he edges back out.
“Try to relax, sweet girl,” he murmurs in my ear. “Would it help if I promised you this will probably be the least enjoyable moment I will ever bring you?”
My thoughts swirl with what he means…
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What do you mean?”
He trails kisses up my cheek to my ear, all the while rubbing the head of his cock against me. “You will learn to love the way I hurt you. I swear it. But this… this is a necessary evil. And sadly there is not much else I can do to make it better.”
His teeth graze my earlobe, and I tilt my head, letting him have more of me. He pulls it into his mouth and sucks on it gently, and I let my body lower down onto him. When he moans into my neck, the joy it brings me comes as a surprise. I edge down farther, and he holds his breath… as if this is just as painful for him as it is for me.
“What I wouldn’t give just to ravish you right now,” he says, his voice straining.
“Then do it,” I tell him. I’m taunting him. I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t seem to help myself. This is torture.
His fingers run up my back, scratching me with his nails while I arch my back against him instinctively.
I let out a gasp, and he catches it with his mouth.
When his hands reach my shoulders, he slides them around and firmly pushes me down on him, all the way, without an ounce of restraint.
I cry out, but it just connects with his mouth, and it seems to send him crazy with need.
His tongue dominates my mouth while his hands move to my neck. My hips squirm against him, and I don’t even know what it is I’m trying to do.
Having him there aches. It’s an intrusion, a foreign one.
Completely unknown and strange and new. But it’s not horrible. There’s something satisfying about it, like fitting two pieces of a puzzle together after attempting it for a long time. Something so incredibly…
“Fuck,” I moan. Fuck.
Baron chuckles against my lips. “Not so brave now, are we?”
I shake my head, which only causes a further amused sigh from him. “Good. I like you better that way.”
He places a kiss on my lips and then he shifts position. I cling to him as he pushes me down onto my back. As he returns me to the water.
Yet again, I feel like I’m drowning until his chest covers me and protects me from the downpour.
Just as I feel like I’m getting settled, like it’s safe to breathe again, he pulls out the slightest inch and then drives deeper inside me. “Baron…” His name is the only thing that comes to the front of my mind. This is torture, and I don’t even know what it is that I want.
I can’t even feel his face anymore—he’s too tall. There is only hard chest in front of me, and I cling on to the sides of him when he does it a second time, feeling so small in comparison to him. My lips press against his pecs, and he holds his breath again, barely moving an inch.
He lets the breath out in a sigh, as if he’s frustrated. Is he frustrated with me? For my inexperience? I’m just lying here, but I don’t know what else to do. I want so badly to ask him if that’s the case, but I’m worried his answer would hurt me.
I feel his chest move against me as his breathing deepens. He’s not moving at all, just increasing the pressure against me. It still aches, it’s still painful, but I shift against him anyway, silently coaxing him. Urging him on.
With a grunt, he falls to the side, pulling me with him and switching us around. “Do it,” he says, clutching my hands in his. “I can’t. I will ruin you… and that’s not fair.”
There is a defeated note in his voice, as if he is sad. A hint of a man I’ve never seen before… one that isn’t always so sure of himself.
One that is able to feel.
One that is able to be hurt.
I lean down over him, catching his head in my hands and pulling it toward me. I cover his lips, and he groans into the kiss. I don’t say anything… but I’m hoping I don’t need to. I’m hoping this gesture will be enough for him.
I’m telling him it’s okay.
His fingers trail down my spine while I kiss him. I’m trembling in his arms, my whole body tingling from his touch. He grips my bottom, pushing me farther down against him, and it’s like something shifts between us. I can’t see him, but I can feel him beneath me.
He was tense and controlled, but that is now being washed away with the water. I’ve felt it simmer within him all night, and now it’s as if he’s burning up. It’s as if he is too hungry to fight it anymore.
“Does this hurt you?” he asks, forcing my hips up and then slamming me back down against him. “You feel too small for me. Just a fraction too small.”
He does it again, and I let out a cry which only seems to delight him. “Yes, yes it does,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself. As if he’s simply speaking his thoughts out loud and not expecting a response from me.
His h
ands grip my hips, and he grinds me against him, filling me completely and hitting places inside me I didn’t know even existed.
I let out a startled gasp.
It’s agonizing and incredible, both at the same time.
“Oh, you are perfect. Made for me. I knew it. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
He picks up his speed now, no longer bothering to move me. Instead, he holds me still above him, his hands on my hips clamping me there while he drives into me.
The sound of him slamming against me mixes with his breath, my moans, the water at either side of us. I feel like I’m about to collapse on top of him. It’s too much. It’s sore.
I cry out, begging him for a second.
Just a tiny second.
He flips us over again, disconnecting us only for a second before driving back in to the hilt.
My breath comes out in shudders now as he grinds against me.
This is better.
Much better.
His hands tilt my hips, locking me in place again.
But this angle isn’t painful.
This angle is perfect.
He’s taking me back there, leading me up that same path where nothing else matters.
“Come for me, sweet girl,” he whispers, his fingers digging into my hips.
His words push me further.
His words are perfect.
Everything just feels perfect.
Once again, I’m thrown over the edge of that cliff. This time it’s just colors.
Stars.
Even better than the first time.
My whole body shudders as the muscles inside me contract around him. He lets out a growl and brings a hand to my neck, cutting off my air. It just makes it better. More intense. More everything.
He drives into me, harder than before.
Now I don’t care.
Now the pain isn’t even registering.
He only lets go of my neck when he starts shuddering too, and I hear him suck in a sharp breath.
I gasp for air.
He steals the breath with a kiss while he collapses on top of me.
We lie there for who knows how long.
I can barely breathe with his weight on top of me, but that doesn’t bother me anymore. If he wants my breath, he can have it. This shift should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Nothing scares me now.
20
Sapphire
Baron carries me through to the bedroom and lays me down in the center of his huge bed. He is wearing his mask now, of course, and he got himself dried and made me sit in the bathroom alone while he dressed.
He didn’t allow me the same courtesy.
I’m not really surprised anymore. It seems there are two extremes with him. In the presence of others I am fully covered, and in the presence of him I am fully bare.
As soon as I’m settled he retreats, crossing the room and sitting down on a large chair in the far corner. He rests his head in his hand and lets out a loud sigh.
After everything that has now happened between us, I’m surprised he has gone back to how it was when we first met. Me in the bed, and him watching from the chair. I thought he would join me.
I get up from my spot and edge down toward the footboard. Although there are no posts at the side of the bed, the heavy curtain and the posts at the end really do give the illusion of being inside a cage.
“You’re going to sit there all night?”
He stares at me for a moment, his masked face moving just slightly up and down, as if he’s taking in the sight of me. “Yes.”
I swallow, unable to get it straight in my head exactly why that hurts.
“That disappoints you?” he asks.
“Yes.” I feel beyond the point of lying to him now.
His head tilts to the side, but it’s not menacing like usual. This time it’s like he is deep in thought. “I’ve not… I’m not used to this.”
“Having a woman in here or having sex with her?” I blurt the words out without thinking. I can’t help myself. I think I already know he’s talking about having women here—he practically said as much when we walked into the room—but it’s the second part of the question I’m dying to know the answer to.
His shoulders move slightly as he laughs. “As hard as this may be for you to comprehend—especially after experiencing what you’ve just experienced—women aren’t generally falling over themselves to sleep with me.”
Now I’m the one who’s laughing. Even when he’s putting himself down, he still finds a way to fit something cocky in there. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
He shrugs. “You would if I fucked you like I fucked the others.”
I must be a masochist. The thought of him being with someone else cuts through my stomach like a knife—but that’s not enough to stop me from wanting to twist it. “Why’s that?”
He chuckles again, and this time there’s a hint of amusement behind it. “Jealous, little girl?”
“Curious.”
“Oh, do not be obtuse. It’s quite sweet. I enjoy it,” he says with another laugh. “If you must know, I’ve never even taken my clothes off until tonight.”
It’s ridiculous, but I can’t help but smile at how he thinks that’ll make me feel better. “Whatever did I do to deserve you?” I say, sarcasm apparent in my tone.
He laughs and then stands up. “I’ll lie with you until you fall asleep,” he says. “You understand I cannot sleep next to you?”
He thinks I’ll take his mask off while he sleeps. He doesn’t trust me.
Still.
I’m about to get upset about that before I realize I don’t trust him, either. Not really.
So I simply reply, “Yes.”
He nods once and comes back to the bed, lying down on his back with his arms behind his head like a pillow. I scoot back down and lie on my side, facing him.
I try to close my eyes, but every time I do it’s like opening floodgates in my mind. My thoughts swirl with everything that has happened. I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is go to sleep, but my mind won’t stay quiet long enough to let it happen.
Shifting my position, I try to get comfortable. I was disappointed when he didn’t join me, but now that he’s here it is not making the difference I thought it would. He’s here physically, but mentally he could be a thousand miles away.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.
He pauses for a beat and then chuckles. “No one has ever asked me that question before.”
“Really?”
His head shifts as he glances down at me and then he returns to staring up at the dark roof of the bed. “Yes, really.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” I tell him.
“No, I didn’t,” he agrees. “There is not an easy answer to it. I’m thinking a thousand different things and nothing at the same time.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
He shrugs. “Neither do my thoughts.”
“They never make sense? Or only right now?”
He angles his body toward me slightly and traces his finger up my arm. It tickles, and I shiver at the sensation. “Sense is all in the perception, don’t you think?”
I blink a few times, trying to work out what he’s saying. “Are you… are you mad?”
The question hangs between us for some moments. There is a tug in the back of my mind, a worry that maybe I should have phrased it better, but somehow I don’t think he will care much.
He just laughs. “What an amusing question.”
“How so?”
“Because the answer matters little, and yet if you understood that you wouldn’t have asked the question,” he says, matter-of-fact.
“Well, are you or aren’t you?”
“Am I or aren’t I what?”
“Mad?”
He leans up on his arm, catching me by surprise and causing my heart to skip a beat. “Are you mad?”
“I… uh… I’m
sane,” I reply.
His hand trails up my neck and across my jaw, stopping on my bottom lip. “Does a sane person fall for someone who is mad?”
I swallow.
Probably not. But you can be perfectly sane and still be tempted by someone, especially someone like Baron. It’s like how I explained it in the shower. There was nothing I could do to keep the walls up. He’s known all along what he was doing to me. That doesn’t mean that what I feel for him is real. “I might have fallen for you, but only because you engineered it that way. I don’t love you.”
He laughs. “You will never love me, sweet girl.” He leans down and presses his mask against my forehead before retreating again. “At best, you’ll likely have Stockholm syndrome, and I’m more than delighted with that. I told you that I didn’t want your love, only ever your fear.”
“Stockholm syndrome?”
“A mirage. An illusion of nature. A physiological response. A victim who falls for her abuser, but it is merely a coping mechanism. It’s not love, and you will never love me. But you, my little monster, will always fear me.”
His words should send chills down my spine, because I believe they are true. It’s not logical to feel the way I do about him. Him, a self-proclaimed killer and sadist.
A man who repeatedly tells me just how much he’s holding himself on a leash.
But no matter how illogical it is, if love is what he wanted… perhaps over time I would have given it to him. And that’s what I don’t understand.
Who doesn’t want to be loved?
People who believe they are unworthy—that’s who.
“You don’t think you’re worthy of my love?”
He laughs at that, as if I’ve just cracked a joke. “Uh, have you met me? Have you seen the size of my ego? Do you think there is anything in this world that I feel I am unworthy of? If I wanted your love, I would have it, of that I’m quite sure.”
“Then why don’t you want to be loved?”
“Love is fickle,” he snaps. “Love can leave you. It’s a hideous, grotesque thing that is more of a mask than the one I wear on my face. Fear… that is palpable. Fear is as clear as daylight. Fear is like an iron vice around the neck, and you wear it so beautifully.”
