by J. L. Beck
“Don’t leave me, Mouse,” I say out loud, shocked that I let them cross my lips.
Why does the thought of her dying feel like a fucking knife in my heart?
I sit in complete silence, listening to the water fill the tub. After a while, she seems to have cooled down enough and I turn off the water, letting it drain.
My white t-shirt clings wetly to her skin, letting me see every little curve underneath. Fuck… she is not wearing anything underneath. I try and avert my eyes, but I'm not a good man. Even in the state she's in, I still want to touch her.
Heavy footsteps meet my ears, and I know it's the doc finally getting here. The gray-haired man walks into the bathroom, looking down at the small body in the large bathtub. He takes in the situation, and without asking any questions, he kneels next to the tub and starts to examine her.
I hold back a growl as his hands move over her all but naked body. Watching him touch her infuriates me.
“It looks like the cuts on her wrists got infected.” Fuck. Why didn't I bandage and dress the wounds last night?
“The infection has already spread up her arms and because she has two injuries, it’s rapidly spreading. Her body can’t keep up the fight against it. We need to get her on an IV and on antibiotics right away if she has a chance at making it. Do you know when she’s last eaten or had something to drink?”
I shake my head and grind my teeth. My blood boils… I’m so fucking angry, and I have no one to blame but myself. I didn’t even give her anything to eat or drink last night.
“Can you get the shirt off and move her to the bed? I’ll get everything ready in there.” He gets up and pauses for a second, a flicker of anxiety appearing in his eyes. “Unless you want to move her somewhere else. She might be out for a while.”
“Here is fine.”
I watch him leave the bathroom before I turn back to my little mouse… I don’t even know her real name. I bet she has a beautiful name that fits her beautiful face. Shaking my head, I grip the collar of the shirt and start ripping it down the middle.
My dick twitches in my pants when I see her perfect little body underneath the shirt. Creamy smooth skin without a single blemish on her. A perfect pair of perky tits and a flat stomach…. a little too flat for my liking right now. I don’t dare let my eyes wander all the way between her legs. A raging hard-on is the last thing I need right now.
I grab a towel from the rack and cover her up with it before I pick her up and carry her back to the bedroom. I look down at her in my arms; her eyes remain closed, her face peaceful with some strands of wet hair sticking to her forehead and cheek.
Her face is expressionless, and I realize then how much I miss the flicker of fear or even fire in her gaze. I place her on the bed where Doc. Brown is already setting up an IV.
“I’m gonna get her hooked up and then I’m going to have to re-open the wounds to let the infection drain out. After that, I’ll wrap them up.”
I watch the doctor work on her for a few minutes before I can’t stand watching him touch her any longer. I know he is helping her but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to slap his hand away every time he touches her skin.
Stepping out of the room, I try to get all these irrational feelings under control. I need a fucking reality check. Walking down to the end of the hall, I end up in front of my son’s nursery.
I open the door quietly, just in case he is sleeping, but as soon as I pop my head inside the door, I discover he is not.
One of the nannies is holding him in her arms, feeding him a bottle. His tiny fingers are trying to grab the bottle and his little lips are sucking on the nipple like he hasn’t eaten in years… just as he always does.
“Do you want to feed him today?” Maria asks. She is his caregiver most of the time and Q loves her.
“No, I just wanted to see him really quick.” Seeing him always quiets the storm inside me momentarily.
This is all that matters... him. Suddenly, a crazy idea enters my mind, an image that I can’t shake now that it’s in my head. I imagine my little mouse sitting in here with my son… feeding him. I think he would like her. She would love him. I don’t know how I know… I just do.
No, I can’t think of something like this. I could never trust her with my son; I don’t even know her. I threatened to hurt and kill her. I could never trust her with him. For all I know, she is just a really fucking good actress and is spying on me for my father.
I can’t let my guard down. Not with her or anybody else. My family counts on me.
When I get back to my bedroom, the doc is just wrapping up her wrists.
He looks up when he hears me coming in. “You need to keep her arms elevated. I’ll come and check on her again in the morning. Until then, watch the red marks on her arms. If they spread, call me back right away. Here are some pain meds and some antibiotics.”
He sits two pill bottles down on my nightstand before examining me nervously. “Is that all I can get for her? Or does she need anything else… like the morning after pill?”
His question infuriates me beyond all reasoning. I know logically it shouldn’t.
She is, after all, a beautiful young girl half naked in my bathroom, and she clearly has been tied up. Of course, he would assume she’d been raped, as it wouldn't be the first time I've done something psychologically fucked. I know his assumption shouldn't bother me… but fuck, it does.
“Don't ask questions, Doc. If I needed something else, I'd have asked. Now, if you're needed, I'll call you. Otherwise, get the fuck out.” I grit out the words and he scurries from the bedroom, grabbing his things.
As soon as we’re alone, I settle onto the side of the bed and stare at her. I watch her chest rise and fall beneath the blanket… I listen to the medicine drip from the IV bag into the tube and watch the saline being carried through it to the needle in her arm. This, her being here, me saving her, it’s so unlike me.
I'm a killer, not a savior, and still, I cannot shake the hold this tiny girl has over me.
“Who are you?” I whisper, trailing a knuckle down the side of her cheek. Her skin is still hot, but a sheen of sweat coats her forehead, telling me her fever is breaking.
I think of the things she told me yesterday… of how she merely went searching for her sister. She was selfless walking into a den full of lions. I'm surprised I didn't find her in worse condition. Then again, my father hadn't really gotten a chance to touch her. If he had, I can guarantee she'd wish she was dead.
Isn't that what you'll do to her? Make her wish she was dead by the time you're done with her? I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't understand the feelings coursing through me. The only thing that is clear is that I cannot hurt her. I can't… no matter what.
“Xander…” My name falls from her lips on a whimper and I look up, expecting her to be awake, but she's not. I grab onto her fragile hand that's extended outward on the bed. I interlace our fingers… She's useless to me like this, our agreement null and void.
On top of it, she's a loose end. If anyone discovers her, then everything will unravel. I stop myself from thinking further on the matter. I’m not in the right state of mind right now.
My need for her is causing me to break every fucking rule that I put into place, and secretly, my father is getting his way. He may not know it, but I do. He’s left me something, someone, that I cannot bring myself to kill.
And it’s going to ruin everything…
It already has.
29
Ella
My eyes burn, my head throbs, and a coldness fills my veins. I try and swallow, but my throat burns feels like fifty-grit sandpaper. My tongue is heavy in my mouth and every single breath I take is labored. I try and lift my arms and legs but nothing works. I feel broken. I will my eyes to open, but they don’t.
“Her fever is back up.” A deep rumbling voice fills my ears.
“That’s going to happen, boss. She’s fighting an infection. It’ll be a couple of days before we s
ee any real improvement.” That same voice lets out a loud sigh, and I feel the bed dip beside me. I flicker through the memories in my mind... trying to put a face to the voice.
The image of a man with dark hair and even darker eyes appears before me.
Xander.
“Don’t die on me, Mouse,” he whispers, so softly I barely hear him. I think I feel his lips graze my forehead, but I cannot be sure. Questions burn deep inside of me. Why is he caring for me? Shouldn’t he have just killed me? I’m not of any use to him now.
Our agreement appears in my mind, and I wonder if he’s going to end things now. He probably should. It would be easier, right? I feel trapped, caught between four walls that are slowly closing in around me. I cannot cry or scream. I can’t do anything to let him know that I am here… with him. I try and mumble, move my limbs, anything at all, but everything starts to fade out again. A buzzing fills my ears and within seconds, I’m gone… floating through endless darkness. Maybe I’m already dead? I can’t tell the difference between reality and dream anymore.
When I awake again, it feels like it’s only been a second, but there is no way that is possible. Warmth blankets my body, and I want to snuggle deep into it. I wonder why I’m unable to move or speak but can’t communicate my fears.
After what seems like an eternity, I am finally able to peel my eyes open again. I blink a few times, making sure I’m really awake now and not still in limbo. My surroundings become clearer with each blink and then I suddenly see the person sitting in front of me.
“Welcome back to life, little mouse.”
For a long time, I just look at him. I’m still trying to put all the pieces back together.
How did we end up in this moment? I feel like I am missing part of the story. Unable to connect from offering him my body for survival to him caring for me in his bed. Something must have happened in between those two events that I don’t know about.
“Why?” It hurts to speak but I ask the question anyway.
Xander’s brow furrows in confusion as if he doesn’t understand what I am saying. “What do you mean why?”
I try and say something else, but I cannot get the words past my lips. Xander passes me a glass with water in it, and I take it into my shaky hands. As soon as it touches my dry lips, I swallow it down, drinking from the cup greedily until Xander pries it from my grasp.
“That’s enough. You’ll get sick if you drink too much, too fast.”
I nod in understanding, placing my hands in my lap. I realize then as the soft sheets move against my bare skin that I am, in fact, completely naked.
Did we? Did he? My mind is a mess of thoughts, but I’m certain I’d remember if we had done anything to that extent. I lift my gaze to his. He’s watching me again, his face void of emotion, and I wonder why he does that. Hides his emotions from the people he’s talking to. Maybe he thinks he’s safe that way? I don’t really know, but when it comes to understanding others, I always try and read between the lines, and reading between the lines is the only way I think Xander can be understood.
“Why did you care for me?” I finally ask.
Xander smirks. “There is no way I was going to let you die before I got to claim your virgin pussy, Mouse. Good pussy is hard to come by now a days.”
My cheeks heat immediately. He cannot actually mean that, right? He didn’t save me just so he could fuck me.
“I don’t believe you,” I blurt out, feeling hurt. I remember his lips on my forehead, his voice a beacon of light in the darkness.
Xander smiles, and it’s sinister, sickening, and suddenly I wish I never asked him why he saved me. “How do you know I didn’t already fuck you?”
“Because you’re not that vile of a monster.” I regret the words as soon as they’re spoken. In a second, Xander is above me, his hand wrapped around my throat. Fear spikes deep inside of me. Had I just fought an infection only to die because I can’t keep my mouth shut?
Xander leans into my face. I can smell him; his scent surrounds me. His mouth is inches from mine, and I consider what may happen if I were to kiss him, but the thought slips away as soon as he starts to speak.
“I’m every bit as vile as my father, and I’ll do to you the same fucking things he will. Don’t think that just because I saved your life that I want you around for more than a hole to fuck. You’re nothing, Mouse, nothing but a place for my dick.”
I feel my lips trembling, and tears blur my vision. “Okay,” I whisper softly, all while knowing deep down inside he has no idea that I heard his words, that I know how he truly feels. That his voice brought me out of the darkness and back to harsh reality.
In an instant, he’s off of me and pushing from the bed.
“Our agreement is still on. I’ll give you twenty-four more hours to gain your strength but that’s all the mercy you’ll receive from me.”
I don’t understand the hot and cold he gives off. I know he wanted me to live. I heard the anguish in his words, but now that I am awake, he seems angry, as if he had hoped that I wouldn’t make it.
“You could’ve just left me to die. You didn’t have to put all this work into it,” I whisper, pushing up on the mattress, trying to right myself into a more seated position while pulling the blanket up and over chest. I feel something pulling at my arm and look down to see what looks like a spot for an IV that must’ve been put into my arm.
“And let you die so easily?” I lift my gaze to his and find amusement twinkles in his eyes. “I think it’d be funner to fuck you until you can’t take anymore, then let you just fade away from illness.”
His words are cruel, so very cruel, but I can’t lash out at him for saying them. No, that’ll just get me killed, and I’m already running on borrowed time. Yet I let my next words escape my lips without thought.
“You don’t mean that, Xander.”
“And why the fuck not?” He stops dead in his tracks, looking every bit the monster that he wants everyone to believe he is.
“Because I heard you. I heard you tell me not to die. I know you didn’t want to lose me.”
He clenches his fists at his sides and then strides right back over to the bed. I wonder for a second if he will actually hurt me. The fire in his eyes flickers, and I know I’ve gone and fanned the damn flames, igniting an inferno deep inside of him.
Gripping the edge of the blanket, he pulls it from my grasp. I gasp at the sudden coldness that blankets my skin, stealing every ounce of warmth from my body.
I feel his gaze on my bare body and try and cover myself up with my hands. I swallow around the knot of fear that I cannot get to go down. When I feel his hands grip onto my thighs and pry them apart with brute strength, I cry out. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?
“Please, no…” I don’t want this to happen this way, not between us. I thrash back and forth against the mattress, feeling my already weakened body giving out.
“But isn’t that what you want? Me to show you how big and bad I can truly be? Don’t you want to see how far I’ll go before I snap?” he snarls directly into my face. His fingers break my thighs apart and I feel him, his hand hot at my center.
Without further warning, he slams two fingers inside me and holds them there. My body stiffens at the sudden intrusion, but when he doesn’t move, I can feel myself soften into his touch. His eyes roam over bare body, the heat in them slowly dissipating.
By the time he reaches my face, his eyes have completely softened, and it seems as if he’s lost the sharp jagged edge needed to push forward.
The fear I felt moments before fizzles away into warmth that fills my belly. Feeling his thick fingers inside me makes me long with need. I feel full, impossibly full, but it doesn’t hurt. A long silence stretches between us but neither one of us breaks eye contact.
Then he starts moving out of me slowly and before I know what I’m doing, I grab his wrist, holding him in place.
Confusion flickers across his eyes briefly. “Do you want me to make
you come, Mouse?” His voice is kind, soft, and I already know the answer.
I bite my bottom lip nervously. “Yes,” I murmur almost inaudibly.
An evil grin tugs on his lips, and he starts moving his finger back inside of me. My breath hitches. Now that my body was expecting it, my reaction to his touch changes.
His fingers inside me don’t feel like an intrusion any longer. They feel like they belong there and nowhere else. He moves them in and out of me in a slow steady rhythm and it feels like heaven. I have to fight the urge to close my eyes in pleasure because for some strange reason, I want to see him looking at me, watching me as I fall apart.
My hold on his wrist is firm, but only because I want to touch him, and I'm not sure where else he'll allow me to put my hands.
Pleasure zings through me with every deep stroke of his fingers. My heart flutters around inside my chest like a butterfly trying to break free. His movements are gentle, kind, and it's so unlike him, unlike the man he wants me to believe he is that it's almost terrifying.
“Come for me, Mouse. Come all over my hand.” He stares me down, pulling the pleasure out of me with nothing more than a command.
A small moan I can’t hold back escapes me. My chest heaves, feeling things I’ve never felt before. My nipples pucker, and my body shivers. My pussy clenches, squeezing his fingers hard, but he continues his slow and sensual strokes and then he curls his fingers upward inside me, hitting some spot that draws unbelievable pleasure out of me.
Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, they shut without me wanting them to. My head falls back into the pillow as a wave of pleasure washes over me, taking with it pieces of my soul. My body tingles and I lie there for a moment, trying to get my eyes to open again. When I do, he removes his fingers just as quickly as he entered them.
I feel cold at the loss of his touch, and I reach for the blanket, wrapping it around my body. I don't even get a chance to say anything to him because he's up and out the door in a flash, leaving me behind in his bed, breathless and more confused than ever.
