by KD Robichaux
“I couldn't write enough words of perfection about your body. I couldn't even scratch the surface on the art that is your faultlessness.”
Whenever he says those words, I melt, cry out, and whimper in my agony. I want him to show me what he means. I want actions that substantiate what he says. He’s killing me, and I just need him to stop tormenting me in daylight and in the darkest parts of my desperate dreams.
“Lizith?” Dominic calls out to me and regains my attention. Turning back to him, I give him a fake flirtatious grin. That grin is my keeper’s favorite, and I think he felt the shift in the air, because from the corner of my eye, I see his head slowly lift. The static in the room that is our connection awakened him. The kinetic energy told him that his little bird shared something that is only his.
Finally.
A perk of sitting just a few feet away in the front row—and today, I wore no panties under my skirt—is Xander will not be happy when he notices this. I bat my lashes and bite my lip, repositioning my legs, making sure he gets a glimpse. I lean in closer to Dominic and hear Xander growl.
“Class is cancelled. Everyone out!” He stands, owning the room with his booming presence. Xander’s hand balls and slams down on the desk, and I jolt with the thundering sound.
I have upset him, and now instead of gaining his attention, he is making us leave. I scold myself, slapping the inside of my thigh. No one sees this gesture as they all pile out, and are excited that they don’t have to stay. Dominic is busy packing up his bag as I stand on wobbly legs, my heart racing and my face reddening with shame.
“I don’t have another class after this. How about we grab some lunch?” Dominic asks.
“I can’t. I need to um… I need to study.” I look over and watch Xander breathe deeply, his eyes penetrating me. He’s daring me to say yes; he is challenging me to let another man entertain his bird.
“We can study together, maybe over dinner?” he attempts again, looking over to where my eyes are traveling. My head is down and I already feel my knees going weak, ready to apologize. I went way too far.
“Lizith. I would like to speak to you about your recent paper.” Xander takes charge, and if I don't get Dominic out of here, our secret may be revealed. Dominic looks him over suspiciously.
“Rain check?” I know that will never happen, but getting him out of here is my sole focus.
“Yeah, sure. You gonna be okay?” He rubs my shoulder and my eyes squeeze shut. Touch, physical touch, is off limits.
“Yes, thank you. I will see you tomorrow.”
He leaves and the second he shuts the door, I fall to my knees and crawl to Xander, rounding his desk in tears. I feel awful that I punished him and broke our rules just for his attention.
“Xander, I’m sorry.” I get to his feet and keep my eyes down, looking at the shiny material of his expensive Prada dress shoes. Rounded at the tip, long and sleek, thick and powerful. Just like his cock.
“You did a bad thing. You want me to leave you?”
I peer up fast, my head whipping and nearly cracking, my heart rate speeding through all the red lights. “No! Please, sir. I promise I will never do that again. Don’t leave me.” I lay my head against his shin and wrap my arms around him.
“I wouldn't leave you. I would be ripped from you—in cuffs. You can cause me to hurt people, Lizith. You played with fate today, and you awoke the devil. You naughty little bird,” he scolds, leaning then to grab a fistful of my hair.
When his grip is firm, he tilts my head back and I enjoy the sting. It’s my apology. With calculated and stoic movement, he drops to his haunches and assesses my now red and tearstained face. I choke on my breath, aware of his presence and scared from his threats. I know Xander would break the hands of any man who touched what was his.
“How could you let someone touch you, bird? How could you let another man have the delicate feel of my belonging on their fingers?” he asks, his cock now bulging in his pants. I drop my head to steal a glance, but his grip tightens. “Answer me!”
The stark difference from his calm demeanor to his furious tone is daunting. I don’t know what to say anymore.
“I’m a mess.” It’s all I can muster, all that makes sense.
“The prettiest fucking mess. Goddammit. I want you at my place when I get home. Naked on the bed, Lizith.”
My stomach flips. It worked! I went against him, did everything that would upset him in order to get him, and I know it worked. Sometimes I just have to steal his attention if I want it. Because I know he will always reward me with thanks when I give him exactly what he wants—even if he didn’t ask for it.
“Yes, my keeper. I promise. I will be a good broken thing and will take my punishment willingly.” I try to lean and give him a kiss, but he turns me down.
Grabbing my chin in his hand, he paralyzes me. “I will kiss you when you learn how angry you have made me. Don’t ever do anything like that again to get my fucking attention, Lizith. Next time, I will break a man’s arms.”
I gulp, letting more of my tears fall. I hurt him, and now I am consumed with guilt. How could I hurt my love? “The apartment, or your condo?” I whimper. I much prefer the small, cozy apartment he has close to campus. The condo he used to share with his whore wife just feels so… cold.
“Condo. Now.” Silencing me, he stands, pulling our bodies apart. With shaking legs, I stumble to a pathetic stance and grab my bag, no longer looking back at him, because I caused waves and put a wedge between my love and me. I shouldn't have been such a bad little bird.
Hours pass, and I sit on his bed naked and cold, afraid and alone. My body shivers, my skin raised with a thousand goose bumps, as every noise I hear, I assume it’s him. I look over at the clock on his nightstand and see it’s nearing 7:00 p.m. Xander should have been home hours ago. My hands leave my lap in a slow trail to the black silk sheets adorning his bed. The sheets that wrap him up gently every night, encase his body, and shield it from the night air.
I’ve never wanted to be both a sheet and a nocturnal breeze before. Fighting for the ownership of my love, I would lace myself in satin and silk, and then I would lie under my keeper and wrap him in my arms. The effect of a cocoon protecting Xander, letting him know I am here forever, even if it were only as an object.
I see small figments of his wife, Jacqueline, in this room and my blood boils to a full-on raging volcano. I know they separated before we started this and she is no longer living here; she left him for another man. And if I wasn't insanely crazy about him and completely possessive, I would slap the stupidity out of her. How could she leave Xander? How could any woman? If I ever lost him, I would spend a lifetime searching the depths of the oceans, the most frightening forests, and the darkest of shadows to find him once more.
I look over to the fireplace and see his wife’s picture sitting in the frame, and my eye twitches, my palms shaking a bit. I stand and scurry across the room like a cat and grab the frame in a rough grip. I look at her face, fake and despondent, a crossroads demon vying to steal my keeper’s soul. Xander isn't in the picture and I’m glad, because I would never damage anything that holds a piece of him. I begin to hum a slow, drawn out version of “Every Breath You Take.”
With great precision, I flip it over and slowly move the small black pieces holding in the back of the frame. When the picture finds my hands, I look closer, trailing my finger over the shape of her face. I wonder what would happen if I placed her perfume against the column of my neck, or if I traced my lips in the same red lipstick she wears. Would Xander like it? Is this the type of woman he desires? Does he miss her? I never ask questions. I only hear phone conversations when she is calling to bitch about something.
Does the defiance and the domineering behavior turn him on? Because she is a vile woman and it makes no sense. Am I just a pawn in their marriage? A form of foreplay? Will he take her back one day? She doesn't know me, but if she did, would jealousy bring her back?
“No, shut u
p, shut up. You're his bird. His love.” I shake my head violently, trying not to let the voice in my head that only started coming around when I fell in love with Xander take over. I snap, ripping the picture in half and dropping it to the ground with the frame. I walk back to the bed and curl into a ball. Xander is mad at me and he still isn't here. What if he’s with her?
“Lizith, what is this mess?” My keeper opens the gates of my self-imposed hell and pulls me back in, yanking me from my fit. I sit up and my hair falls messily over one shoulder.
“Xander, you came.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, tasting a bit of salt from the tears my mouth caught.
“I told you I would. Why are you crying? And why did you do this, Lizith?” He picks up the picture and I whimper, dropping my head in pain. I hate that he is coming to her aid, that he is bringing Jacqueline into our nest of sacred, tortured, disturbingly sick love.
“Don’t touch the picture. Don't touch her,” I whisper, and before I get a chance to look, he’s standing in front of the bed, where I am miserably waiting.
“Someone’s feeling what I felt earlier. A touch can sometimes be deeper than emotions and words. You touched someone else and it’s hurting you, because I’ve broken you enough to own you. Finally, you learn, little bird.”
His warm, calloused hand touches me, and I feel what he means. His touch could tell me what a thousand words can’t. He loves me and I know it. He owns me and he knows it. We are each other’s jugular vein, Achilles’ heel, and the heartbeat of our survival.
“Why are you holding yourself from me? It hurts, Xander. I love you. Don’t you love me?” I ask, crawling to the end of the bed to get closer.
“I don’t believe in love when it comes to you. Love is weak compared to what I feel for you, Lizith. I own you. I’m sick over you. You fucking got inside me, and I should push you away and do far worse than what I have already.”
I don't care if it’s only been a few weeks in his world. I have fallen in love with Xander, gone mad—completely insane—in a matter of days, and it is exactly where I want to be. And no one and nothing can ever slow me down or bring me back to reality. I’m in Xander’s world now.
“Make love to me. Till dawn. Ruin me, Xander,” I whisper, my lips drawing nearer to his neck.
“Until the dawn rises, the stars and the moon will witness the hours we’ll spend stealing each other’s breath.” Leaning in, he kisses my cheek, biting the dimple that appears from my thankful smile. He always knows when to dig deeper into himself in order to bring me back to the brink. He’s smart, so smart. Handsome and irresistible. “The night will watch two people become one. She will fall silent as she loses her breath, a dark voyeur peeking in while I make you a woman and take what is mine.”
I crumble to nothing and fall deeper under his spell. He wiped away my insecurities with his poetic words and intimate touches. Xander is a man of great power and has complete influence over me. I have never been more sure of what my wants are, and in this life, Xander will be that want.
Placing his palm flat against my collarbone, he pushes me back onto the bed, my breasts lightly jostling with the motion, but his eyes never waver from mine. I watch him tower over me, eating me up with his heavy, dominant presence. I bite my lip and feel the jumble of butterflies dancing in my stomach. I’m going to become his. Right here and right now.
“You are fucking stunning. I’ve never fucked a body so goddamn perfect, never touched a woman so beautiful. You’re in control of me right now, Lizith,” he admits.
“Teach me how to be the perfect lover, Professor.”
“I can do that, but are you sure you know what this will mean?”
“Yes,” I whimper when his thumb grazes my nipple.
“Focus, little bird. I’m serious. Do you understand what happens after I take you?”
I gulp, suddenly afraid, my arousal dissipating. Am I ready? “No, sir. What will it mean?” I force my demeanor to turn sharp, matching him, trying to convince him, and myself, that I am up for the challenge. I cannot look weak in front of him. I must appear strong.
“You can’t ever run from me.” He leans in to bite the shell of my ear, his breath whispering against my neck and making me shiver. “You run to me when I call, and you understand my ownership over you.”
I nod, unsure—not of him, but of myself. I don’t think he understands what I am willing to do to keep him. “Are you sure you are ready, Xander? You may not understand the water you have tainted under my feet. You didn't calm my storm; you wreaked havoc on me like a hurricane,” I implore, and for a moment I think I see my defeat mirrored in his dilated blue irises.
“You’re coloring outside the lines, Lizith. Don’t try and overrule me,” he growls, but before I can whisper another provocation, his hand grasps my throat with purpose. I squeak out a sound barely above a whisper and he smirks, a low laugh leaving the depths of his wide chest. “Now I’ll show you what it’s like to be ruled, owned, and destroyed by love. Because you love me, don’t you, little bird?”
I nod, my airways seemingly restricted from the awareness of my love for this man, not just from his unshakeable grip. I am choking on my obsession and wringed lifeless by my insanity. The insanity this man caused.
“No more words now. You just listen.” As he drops his large hand from my neck, I gasp for air, trying to regain control over myself, but the moment I do, he takes me over once again. “Sucking cock isn't easy, pretty little baby. You have to be gentle with your keeper, and patient.”
I sit at the edge of the bed, my body following the gravitational pull that is Xander. It’s like it knows what it has to do. My feet touch the cold wood of his bedroom floor, a shiver moving up from my pink toes to the rest of my body, escaping at the tips of my hair follicles.
I watch him look down on me as he reaches behind his head and grips his shirt to remove it in one swift motion. His abs electrify my blood, sending a crackle through my veins. They are defined, so defined I’m scared I’ll cut myself on the rigid borders. They match his strong jaw—all his edges sharp.
“Remove my belt and release my cock, beautiful.” He pets me, running his curved hand over my head, through my hair, then down my cheek.
I nod, my shaking hands reaching up for the first time as a woman discovering her lover. The sound of the metal on his belt is deafening and it seems to echo against the silent room louder than my labored breathing.
“Like that, just like that.”
Finally, after what feels like a small eternity, but is really seconds, I have his erect length, thick and alive, in my hand. Xander is smooth, hard, warm, and everything a man with power should be.
“You look like a goddess holding me in your hands. The image of lust. Kiss the tip and taste my need for you, bird.”
I gulp again, this time blinking up at him, looking to him with unease. I don’t know what to do, because I have never done this type of thing before. “I’m scared,” I admit, coiling in on myself. I want him to love what we are about to do as much as I will. I don't want this to be a chore for him—the breaking in of an inexperienced virgin.
“You’re scared? Of what?” He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each finger with purpose.
“I’ve never been touched by anyone like you. By anyone at all. What if I’m bad at it?”
“Oh, Lizith, I hope you are terrible at it. I want to teach you how to give pleasure, but only to me. So the worse off you are, the more fucking pleasure I will take from it.”
“Does it turn you on?”
“You? Yes, Lizith, you turn me on.” I shake my head, dropping it against his palm cradling my cheek.
“No, does it turn you on to see me so broken? To hurt me? To demean me?”
His face grows stoic, his stare locking in on mine. “I will never demean you. Know the difference between that and wanting to make you mine, perfectly mine. As if I made you for me, directly from my fucking rib. I glorify you, bird. I. Fucking. Love. You.
” He executes each word with a slow drawl, deep sounding, as if it were leaving his soul and floating from between his lips.
“Freedom,” I whisper. I can see he understands me by that one word as he nods. His declaration has set my soul apart from reality. I feel free to now love him the way he loves me. To be unafraid of who we are, to understand this love has no boundaries. We will never be like Prince Charming and his princess, or a queen and king. Better yet, we are the darker side of love, the kind you are told to run from. We are Bonnie and Clyde, or more accurate, Joker and Harley.
Xander removes all restrictions from between us, baring his body to my now naked form. I watch every muscle move, each tic of his jaw as he strips down for me. I lick my lips and bow my head like a broken bird waiting for her wing to be put back together.
“Give me those lips. Fuck me, those pouty little lips.” Starting with his fingers at my forehead, he drags them through my hair, gripping a handful at the top of my head, bringing me forward with whispers of love for me. And in a moment, I learn the real taste of my keeper.
The head of his cock touches my lips, the wet tip salty and powerful. I whimper, my eager mouth and even more fervent heart lurches forward as I suck the crown, my eyes lolling back as I do.
He hisses, and I open my eyes to see the first look of pleasure being taken versus given, and I now know what he has felt only ever giving pleasure the past few weeks.
Xander’s sudden expression of gluttonous desire spearheads my suddenly confident approach. Slowly, I relax my mouth and throat, my eyes watering and collecting tears in the corners as I take in a few inches. When I feel his shaft hitting the back of my throat, I gag.
“Slow and easy, bird!” he barks, turning back into the dominant. I back up slowly and hum my apology. “I didn't mean to yell. I just want you to go slow.” He pets me again, and if my mouth weren’t rammed full with cock, I would have bowed my head and blushed under his sweet praise. “Flatten your tongue, massage it against the bottom of my shaft while you suck, but give me your eyes, Lizith.”
