And then, I began to play.
Some notes slipped as our fingers entwined together. Some ended short with my ruined bow. But for the next four minutes and fifty-three seconds, Pim allowed me to drench her in pain-swimming music. She let me drag her back to the depths to pick up the pieces that’d sank so far inside her she would never have had enough oxygen to dive down and salvage them on her own.
The barriers between us melted away and just like in the storm, I felt her inside me. I heard her plight. I saw her history. And I understood her on a level I hadn’t let anyone enter for decades.
Her spine remained locked against my chest, never softening or submitting, but her fingers warmed beneath mine, accepting not cursing the song we created.
Sexual intensity peaked mid-way when the tune soared high then swooped epically low—a rich combination speaking of abuse and melancholy. The hair on the back of my arms stood up and I couldn’t stop my face turning into Pim and my lips caressing her throat.
She winced but her neck arched for me to nuzzle then dropped to prevent an open-mouthed kiss.
We lived in a state of lustful flux where sex plaited itself around us, pulling tighter and tighter, harder and harder to ignore.
Her weight on my leg and hip against my cock drained my energy faster than any sprint or swim.
I was breathless.
I was witless.
I was utterly spent and ripped apart.
The song was an eternity.
The song was a second.
And when the last note faded, I let her hand go and dropped my arm from around her. I needed her gone because if she didn’t, I’d fuck her.
Leave.
Get away from me.
She remained frozen on my lap. Her feet planted on the ground, taking her weight even though I would gladly support her—just not when I was seconds away from becoming a savage.
Tears decorated her eyelashes like spider webs, hanging so fine—threading a silver-webbed trap over her cheeks.
How long had she been crying?
My desire switched to rage. Every urge wanted to wipe away those damning tears and find a way to plug her mind from memories, but I let her stay in her thoughts. I didn’t force her to return. I gave her the time we both needed to find sanity.
Slowly, her body relaxed from its music-induced statue; she stood from my lap.
I let her go.
I no longer want her to leave.
I never looked away as she paced toward the bed and sat on the mattress with her head in her hands. The cello felt heavy in my arms as I shifted it to the floor, making sure it was safe before going to her.
Now was the time.
This was what I’d been waiting for.
She was vulnerable, shaken, but not broken. She’d never been broken, but now, she had more glue along the hairline fractures and more courage than tears.
“Talk to me.”
Her eyes met mine, drying from whatever she’d suffered while we played.
She sat taller.
Towering over her, I commanded, “I’ve been patient long enough, silent mouse. I’ve given you things I’ve never given anyone. It’s time to return the favour.”
She squeaked silently as I reached for her throat.
I was aware of her fear of having her neck touched, but I didn’t let her globe-wide eyes or flinch stop me. She had to learn I would touch her wherever I damn well pleased. She had to trust I wouldn't hurt her like he had.
Clasping my fingers around her throat, I murmured, “Your tongue is healed; you have a working voice box, so sound can come out of your mouth. I know it. I won’t beat you. I won’t force you. I won’t even touch you. But you will talk to me.”
Letting her go, I spread my fingers. “See? I’m going to put them behind my back. I give you my word. I won’t touch you.” I smirked. “For the next ten minutes, at least. If you behave and do what I say, I’ll keep my hands to myself for a little longer. Do exactly what I say, and I don’t touch you at all.”
My jaw lowered. “Don’t do what I say, and I’ll have to break my promise. Do you understand?”
Her eyes shot darts while her neck contracted as she swallowed.
“Good.” Bracing myself, I pushed my legs farther apart and locked my hands behind my back. “Now you know the rules. Let’s begin.”
WHY MUST HE continue calling me mouse?
That wasn’t his to use. Every time he said it in his carnally cruel voice, it sent me careening back to a teenager who wasn’t worse than any other teenager but was woefully naïve.
I didn’t want to be naïve anymore.
I wasn’t naïve when it came to the world of men.
I knew what Elder wanted. I’d felt it the entire time he made me conjure awful sounds from that beast he loved so much. His erection had scalded my hip as if it had a furnace cranked to a thousand degrees.
But if he was going to have sex with you…he wouldn’t have promised not to touch you.
The logic didn’t soothe me; it only made me more confused.
“Tell me your real name.”
Did he honestly think I’d just blurt it out? That two years of silence would be forgotten because he played me one song and stood with me in a storm?
The residue terror from him touching my neck, from kissing my neck, overflowed. I’d done my best to keep it in check but if he was about to force me to speak…I wouldn’t let him win the battle.
It was my decision if he deserved my voice.
He doesn’t—not after that awful cello.
I stood up, chin cocked.
His face darkened. “Answer me.”
I crossed my arms. No.
“Pim.”
Don’t Pim me.
The power and freedom from spending the night wrapped in thunder gave me reckless courage. The music he’d forced into my ears kept echoing on repeat, making me twitchy and wild. Two extremes, slinging together to meet in a mess of frustration, fear, and fury.
So much fury.
I was done playing his games.
I was done playing anyone’s games.
I’ll make the rules from now on, you hear me?
I’d come here looking for the man who played with me on the deck. I’d invited myself into his quarters, hoping he’d kiss me again. I didn’t come to be pushed and pushed, and I definitely didn’t come to talk.
I came for fun.
And you just made me cry.
Elder stood between me and the door. I wanted out. I wanted to run and write to No One. I wanted to toss away his bronze genie lamp because he’d lied about granting me wishes.
If he had the power to do that, he would’ve taken away my repulsion of touch and kisses and sex, and I could stand before him with heat rather than ice. I could feel his cock against my hip and melt rather than freeze.
After three weeks of living with him, I thought I’d be better. He’d promised me he’d find a cure.
You’re a liar.
Standing, I stepped forward.
I’m over this!
His eyes tightened, but he didn’t speak as I took another step and another. My crossed arms wrapped tighter, as if they could shield me from whatever might come next.
I kept encroaching on his space—not caring I went closer to him—my goal was to push past and fly out the door before he could break his promise of not touching me (for the second time tonight) and force me to talk.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, his face cast in shadows. His eyebrows were angry black slashes, his hair tangled from playing such soul-crushing music.
I’m leaving.
A few more steps and our chests would touch. A few more steps and I’d be able to shove him away and bolt out the door.
My gaze kept darting between him, the exit, and that damn awful cello. I didn’t care that the first time he’d forced me to stay it hadn’t been as bad as I thought. This time—actually feeling the notes quiver and swell beneath my fingers—all I’d fe
lt were Alrik’s whips.
Sickness sat in my stomach like a cannonball.
Two more steps and our bodies aligned. I craned my head to stare.
Just let me go.
Elder stood his ground. “Sit down, Pim. We’re not done.”
Yes, we are.
I didn’t second-guess my need to strike him, to hurt him. Even as my hands flew up on their own accord and shoved him backward to give me space, I wasn’t fully in control.
Get out of my way!
He stumbled but quickly righted himself. The air crackled with brutality.
“You seriously want to do this?” His voice wavered with violence.
Do what? Let me go?
Yes, let me go!
For all his perceptive patience and cruel understanding, he didn’t have a clue what I felt. Did he think he’d fixed me? That his cello was some magical pill and now I was normal?
It doesn’t work that way!
I don’t want to talk to you!
Nothing about the sudden switch from pickpocket flirting to destroying me with music made me want to open up and have a heart to heart.
He doesn’t need a heart to heart.
He read your secrets, remember?
More anger poured through me like hot wax.
All I wanted was to leave and get away from the lingering tingle in my blood from his heat and the sparking fear from his notes.
I advanced on him; my hands outstretched and ready for war.
He braced his legs, his jaw lowered. “Push me again and see what happens, Pim.”
The warning should’ve been enough to make me sit back on the bed and behave. To open my mouth and utter a single word. But he’d let me get away with other misdemeanours. What was to say he wouldn’t let me get away with this one?
I wasn’t pretending. I needed to go. Right now.
And you’re in my way.
Baring my teeth, I shoved him, putting all my power into the force behind my pummel.
He staggered back, his eyes widening only to go black as death as I darted toward the door.
Freedom.
He was no longer a roadblock. I’d done that. I’d turned the key. Now, all I had to do was cross the threshold and return to my room, and this could all be forgotten.
I took three steps before his hand lashed out, wrapping around my wrist. “I warned you, Pimlico. I fucking warned you not to push me.”
He whirled me around, slamming me against his chest. “You pushed and pushed, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
His lips came down on mine, tearing my mouth open and kissing me deep. My tummy tangled in horror and heat as I squirmed in his embrace.
This kiss was different.
This kiss was real.
His past kisses had been fakeries. Elder chose this moment—a moment when I was scattered and jittery—to reveal who he was beneath his masked decorum.
This kiss was utter violence.
Violence, I knew. Danger was what I’d been fed, and violence was what I’d drank for years. My body reacted. Shutting down, it turned stiff and unyielding even as something strange happened. The foreignness that’d been budding from seed to seedling ever since I’d woken in Elder’s domain flourished.
The wetness he’d caused in the streets of Morocco returned without permission.
I hated that two women lived inside me. Two personalities, two hopes and dreams and wishes.
The male tongue in her mouth appalled Pimlico. She wanted to bite it, run from it. She hurt with every lick and would forever remain just a little bit broken. She would never enjoy sex because her induction and life had been too traumatic to untangle.
But then there was Tasmin.
A girl who’d enjoyed late-night touches from incompetent boyfriends and was still a virgin to pleasure. A girl who was steadily learning to take back control. A girl who flickered into authority and felt Elder’s kiss rather than endured it.
My body stiffened then softened. Fought then floundered.
And Elder didn’t stop kissing me. His tongue didn’t stop dancing with mine, and I didn’t know if I licked him back in war or welcome.
His touch hurt but in two ways now instead of one. I was familiar with the bite of fear and unwillingness, but I was new to the heat and fire of his dominance.
His hand wrapped around my nape, kissing me harder.
Part of me wanted to run from his touch, the other wanted to have him collar me so I could feel safe in his control.
My lips bruised. My mind became a washed-up origami sail-boat.
“Fuck, Pim. I’m—I can’t stop.”
Sweeping me off my feet, he sank to his knees with me in his embrace. His mouth never stopped claiming mine, biting and nipping, forcing me to accept whatever passion he’d held back.
And he’d held back a lot.
I gasped as his hand tore at my robe, yanking it open to reveal my breast. The cool air licked around my nipple. It hardened.
Pim screamed.
Tasmin moaned.
The bondage in my mind reached snapping point.
His hand clamped on the sensitive flesh. Nightmares and flashbacks threatened to take me under. The terror that this was the moment Elder turned into Alrik begged me to cut loose and sink inside myself until it was over.
But Tasmin clung to sensations; she threw back her head and said yes to living.
That strange, unwelcome molten desire licked from his touch into my core, keeping me locked in his embrace. For the first time in my life, I felt a siphon of pleasure beneath the rage of being hurt.
Pim lost a smidgen of power; Tasmin snatched it.
Elder didn’t pay any attention to my internal battle. He didn’t know how much he affected me, how much he drugged and shredded my mind.
His thoughts weren’t on me for once. He didn’t watch me, judging how far to take me. He was utterly obsessed with his demons.
“Christ, I need you.” His words tipped into my mouth, pushed down my throat with his tongue. Sitting up on his knees, he ripped the terrycloth belt undone and spread the robe wide. The soft cotton had no power against whatever madness lived in his blood.
The moment he’d spread my gown into a cape, he positioned me over his thighs and fumbled with his belt.
His knuckles grazed my inner thighs, nudging my sex.
Pimlico burst into tears, hiding her face, begging this to be over.
Tasmin stiffened, giving into the fear from Pim and pausing for a second too long.
Horror replaced my fascination over how well Elder played my body. I was his cello now. My spine was his bow and my breasts his strings. He created love but violence at the same time.
The back of his hand caught my sex again.
I stiffened even as something inside me melted rather than screamed. I didn’t know what he was doing, how far he would go, but everything I’d been trained to expect in sex, every nuance my body had learned to shut out, was achingly sensitive and kept me on a knife-edge of sensation.
A growl rumbled in his chest as his touch turned swift and angry. Blistering heat branded me from his fingers.
My tummy twisted as his belt jingled, falling away. The sound of his zipper screeched through my ears and like always, my body clamped down against what was about to happen.
Now, Pim and Tasmin were back into one person. There was no more split. Neither wanted this—not like this, not so soon or so quick.
But Elder didn’t notice my quaking legs or feel my writhing arms. He was too far gone in lust to notice.
No. Stop…
His hand delved between my thighs, two fingers finding my core and pressing into me.
He grunted beneath his breath, and despite Pim’s dryness and unresponsiveness, Tasmin had condemned us both with the slick invitation of wetness.
“Fuck, I never thought I’d get inside you like this.” Elder curled his fingers, sinking deep.
I stopped breathing as his touch withdrew then swirled a
round my clit, forcing my mind to stay anchored when all I wanted to do was flee.
The longer he touched me, the more my body decided to ignore everything it knew and give in to him. It was too hard to fight. Too exhausting to care.
My mind was a sprinting circus. My blood jumping flees. My limbs prancing white horses. Something heavy curled in my belly, whispering through my veins stealthy and swift.
It didn’t matter that I refused this. It didn’t matter I wasn’t mentally prepared. My body blossomed beneath his touch. It relished his soft ministration, not agonising punishment. It liquefied for erotic bliss while I rocked in the corner in tears.
He groaned as he touched me again, his fingers sliding in and filling me.
I shuddered despite myself.
My mouth opened in a silent scream.
His lips trailed fire from my mouth to my ear, hoisting me higher in his embrace as his legs bunched beneath mine. “Shit, Pim.”
He hadn’t put me on the carpet once. Hadn’t stopped cradling me once. His hands took control, but there was still a semblance of caring in the way he touched me.
I tried to focus on that, rather than where his fingers were. I tried to remember the laughter when I stole his wallet and not the heavy breath growing thick with desire in my ear.
“Let go…goddammit, let go.” His fingers thrust up. “Enjoy me as I’m enjoying you.”
My back bowed, and something I’d kept locked deep inside since stepping onto the auctioneer block in QMB floated to the surface. The longer Elder’s hands stroked me, the closer his cock came to claiming me, the less flimsy the lock became.
Cracks and fissures ripped like an earthquake.
I hated how unstable he made me.
How I didn’t know what was up and down and around. I clung to him even as I tried to run. And when his fingers slid from my body, and he clutched my frame to hoist me higher over his thighs, I lost it.
I stopped thinking.
I turned catatonic with numbness while at the same time became a firework about to ignite. Two massive extremes. One massive event.
“I need you so fucking much.” His legs worked as he positioned me over his cock. His trousers were open and nothing else. Clothing hindered both of us—a prison for our bodies while I was imprisoned by fear in my mind.
Dollars (Dollar #2) Page 27
