Hundreds

by Pepper Winters

  I clutched it tightly. “How do you feel? Taking this?”

  Pim raked fingers through her hair, tussling the glossy strands, waking herself up from the sexual trance we’d slipped into. She deleted the sleek delicious creature from dinner, replacing her with a wilder, somehow even more beautiful version. “The spoon?” She blinked as if conversation was the last thing on her mind.

  I knew the feeling.

  It was why I chose speaking over grabbing her and kissing her senseless—to give us a little more time. “Yes, the spoon. Do you regret taking it?”

  “I should. It wasn’t mine to take.”

  “You should? Does that mean you don’t?” My mouth twitched into a proud smile. “Are you saying you enjoyed taking it? That you got a thrill?”

  She moved around me, heading toward the bed. “Not really.”

  “Liar.” I snapped the word in half.

  She spread her hands as if seeking forgiveness. “Fine. It…did things to me. It helped, of course, knowing it was one of thousands of spoons and wouldn’t be missed.”

  “Ah, the excuses have started.”

  She planted hands on her hips. “I’m not excusing my behaviour. I know it was wrong, and I wouldn’t do it again…but it did show me things about myself that I’d lost.”

  “Like what?” My interest skyrocketed. My ears begging for scraps.

  “Like the knowledge I missed out on a lot of things. That I don’t want to keep missing out because I’m too scared to try.”

  I did my best not to read between her lines. Not to hear a sexual invitation.

  “That’s the thrill of thievery, Pim. It only gets worse the more you do it.”

  She shook her head. “That minor blip of excitement is nothing compared to the thrill I get when—” She cut herself off, eyes glistening with shock that she’d almost slipped and said something she didn’t want me to know.

  My obsession with her exploded from manageable to borderline dangerous. “When you what?” Moving toward her, I locked my spine in place when she stepped backward to avoid me. Having her move away did brutal things to my instincts. It made me want to chase, hunt, devour.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She dropped her gaze to the rich blue carpet. “Forget it.”

  “I don’t forget anything, Pim.” Tossing the spoon on the bed behind her, I crossed my arms. “Tell me.”

  She fidgeted on the spot before inhaling sharply. “It wasn’t a thrill compared to the thrill I get when you kiss me…touch me.” Red glowed on her cheeks. “I-I haven’t been kissed much. I didn’t think I’d like it, but you…” Her eyelashes fanned up, letting me stare into shadowy green eyes. “You make it good.”

  “Ah, Christ.” I swallowed a groan as every inch growled to delete the remaining distance and take her. To have her speak to me was one of the greatest rewards after her self-imposed silence. To have her admit she liked kissing me? Fuck, it was more than I could bear.

  “Can’t say things like that to me, Pimlico. Especially now.” Stepping away from her, I headed toward my duffel and the small side pocket where I’d packed something for emergencies. My mind was full of body parts and thrusting. Of fast, fierce fucking. Of taking what I wanted with no thought to her traumatised psyche.

  The compulsion inside became stronger thanks to Pim’s admission. My lawless thoughts focused on things it shouldn’t.

  The curtains were made from fabric with stripes on it. Would it be even stripes or odd if I counted them? The carpet had swirls of lighter blue in the navy. Would the ratio of light and dark be equal?

  I closed my eyes, hiding away from overstimulation.

  My fingers fluttered over imaginary cello chords doing their best to circumnavigate the disorder in my blood. I wanted to touch Pim. In a way, I needed to touch her to remain centred and not give in.

  But it wouldn’t just be touching—it would be complete and utter domination. I would strip her, lick her, climb inside her. I would clutch and ride and hold and manipulate until she’d given me everything.

  And because I was fucked up and she was tragic with her history, it would only destroy us. I refused to ruin her progress or mine.

  I’m better than that.

  I gritted my teeth as I unzipped the duffel pocket and pulled out a pre-rolled joint. The effects of this herbal medicine were minimal but needed. It calmed my mind, made the jagged edges of my preoccupation fade a little, and gave me some peace from needing everything now, immediately, all of it with no exceptions.

  The sound of Pim’s heels whispered over the carpet as she came closer.

  I turned my back on her, holding the joint while searching for a lighter in my pocket. My fingers struggled to find the fire conjuring device, digging deeper as Pim moved to stand beside me. Sad eyes landed on the weed, her face torn between asking questions and giving me space.

  “Don’t ask me not to, Pim,” I grunted as I spotted a spare lighter in my bag and snatched it. “You can’t ask me to do that.”

  “I can’t?”

  Holding the flame to the joint, I lit it but didn’t inhale. I needed her to understand. This was for her protection as well as mine. I wouldn’t hurt her more than she already had been. I should fix her not make her worse because I couldn’t control myself.

  Sweet, cloying smoke rose, stinging my eyes. I still didn’t inhale. “You can’t ask me to stop.”

  She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling. “Why?”

  “I just told you why.”

  Her eyes latched onto mine. “No, tell me a different truth, so I don’t feel as if you’re numbing yourself to be with me. Tell me, so I’m not left thinking you don’t want me after all.”

  What a loaded question. An even heavier answer.

  I’d already told her at dinner on the Phantom, but I had different reasons tonight.

  I craved the first puff of weed, but I held it away, doing my best to be honest. After all, tonight I’d demand every shred of her honesty. She’d have nowhere to hide, no one to help her.

  It would be cruel as well as pleasurable, and having such extremes meant I needed all the help I could get.

  “Remember what I said to you? That first night in your bedroom at Alrik’s?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, barricading bad memories. “What did you say?”

  I wasn’t surprised she didn’t remember, but it made anger bubble beneath the surface, showing how close I was to losing it. “I told you how I wanted to be the first to touch you—to make you wet by my voice alone. That I needed to be the first to lick you—to taste how you come. To watch how beautiful you are when you let go on my tongue.”

  She shivered, her skin decorated in goosebumps.

  “I told you I’d be the first man to bite your nipples and kiss your stomach and make you realise how much fucking power you have over a man like me.”

  She looked up, her breathing quick and prey-like. “Are you going to do that tonight?”

  My breathing slowed, heaving and hunting, ready to pounce even while I did my best to hold back. “Do you want me to?”

  She shrugged like a child rather than a woman standing with pinpricked nipples in a sultry black dress.

  I stepped toward her. My knees groaning under the weight of my self-control. “Answer the question. Just like you’ll answer all my questions tonight. Just like you’ll finally give into me and let me show you how lust should be.”

  She tensed on the word but didn’t move away as I brushed aside a lock of hair and gathered the rest of her strands at the base of her neck. “Answer me.”

  Slowly, her gaze grew soft and inviting. “Yes, I want you to.”

  “Why?”

  Her eyes flared then hooded again. “Because I need you to.”

  “Because?”

  Her forehead furrowed, unhappy at the test. “Because I want to be normal. I want to understand the heaviness you create inside me. I want—”

  I suc
ked in a breath, waiting for her to continue. I glued my fucking feet to the floor, so I didn’t throw her on the bed and screw every damn rule to hell.

  Her whisper barely met my ears. “I want to know what it’s like.”

  “What what’s like? Sex?” I ate the word. I decimated the word. I butchered it until it was claw riddled and fang chewed, exactly like the salivating beast inside me.

  She nodded quickly. “Sex with you. It has to be…it has to be different. Better than—”

  I jerked her forward, crushing her to me.

  I hadn’t meant to do that. I didn’t want her any closer than necessary. But once again, I couldn’t help myself when it came to Pim. Her complex blend of vulnerability and courage made me battle with monster and hero.

  Her arms tentatively went around my waist, her heat and willowy frame slotting right against my hardness. Fuck, I wanted to squeeze her; to promise I’d never let her go. That she was safe when that was a lie. That she was mine when I couldn’t make that true. That she never had to fear me because that was the biggest untruth of all.

  Loosening my hold, I vowed, “Sex between us will be unlike anything you’ve experienced. I promise.”

  Sex between us would be unlike anything I’d experienced. And that was what terrified me. Petrified me that I’d become so goddamn addicted I’d forget to eat, breathe, and drink once I’d had her.

  Her embrace unwound as she stepped away. “I’m sorry if I…disappoint you.” She shook her head, using her hair as a barricade. “I’m sure you’ll have had better—”

  “What?” The roar fell from my lips before I could stop it.

  She jumped, her face turning white as rage painted my features. “I, eh, I’m not stupid to think you’ve been with other—”

  I couldn’t fucking do this anymore.

  “Stop. Right now.” Pacing away, I took a drag on the slowly smoking joint. The thick cloud entered my lungs, stinging my tongue on the way out. “Do you know why I need this? Why I’ve only had to smoke since you’ve come into my life? That the last time I had to resort to such methods was three fucking years ago?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s because of you. It’s because of how fucking much I want you. It’s because you tear me up inside. You do things to whatever sick and twisted heart I have left and make me crave things I don’t deserve.”

  I stalked the suite, doing my best to shut the fuck up so I didn’t spill my entire rotten soul. “I can’t be in this hotel with you without this, do you get it? I can’t ask you to take off your dress without help, do you understand?”

  I looked at the ceiling, cursing my very existence, the troubles I’d caused, the wrongs I’d done, the karma I’d painted myself with. “It’s you, no one else. Knowing that you’re going to let me get close to you. That you’ve forgiven me for taking you. That you have the strength to even entertain sleeping with me corrupts me so fucking much that just one kiss will break me.”

  The pearls on Pim’s dress begged me to count them.

  The fringe on her hem taunted me to arrange into ordered groups rather than the wild mess they currently were.

  I stopped, forcing myself to look into her sorrow-filled, wise green eyes. With one glance, she sent me to damnation. “I’m this close to snapping, Pim, so don’t you fucking apologise for being the only woman to get under my goddamn skin, all right?”

  The rage I’d fought for too long sprung into force. Throwing myself into a leather buttoned chair by the marble fireplace, I sucked deep on the joint, tapped the ash into a crystal tray, and pinned her with my stare. “Now, strip. Show me what you’re wearing under that dress.”

  She gasped.

  Her fingers leapt to her chest as if adding another layer of decency. She didn’t move to obey.

  I took one last pull, sending red charcoal devouring the rest of my joint. When the heat singed my skin, I extinguished it, leant forward with my fingers clasped together between my legs, and threaded them tight to form a shackle—imprisoning myself so I didn’t reach out and touch her.

  This part was for Pim.

  Not me.

  Everything about tonight had to remain about her.

  The weed would help me keep that promise. It would let me focus on one thing and one thing only.

  Her.

  It would let me remain calm and not shatter out of my skin.

  It would kill me, wound me, make me beg upon every genie lamp in Morocco to break my self-imposed ban, but I wouldn’t.

  Because she needed to understand her own power.

  To claim her own beauty.

  To take possession of her own body.

  Perhaps then, she’d be strong enough to bear me taking what I wanted.

  With my fingers turning white and my heart racing a mile a second, I growled, “I won’t ask again, Pim. Strip. I want to see every inch of you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ______________________________

  Pim

  HIS VOICE ricocheted inside my skull.

  I want to see every inch of you.

  See every inch.

  It didn’t make sense.

  He’d seen me. I’d been naked more often than clothed. He’d touched me, been inside me—he’d seen me.

  Why ask as if he’d never seen a woman strip before? Why sit as far away from me as he could with his body vibrating and fingers turning blue-white from clenching so hard? Why try to dull his senses when his eyes smouldered with a thousand bonfires?

  “Pim.”

  The growl reached inside me, tugging on every heartstring and passionate nerve. I jumped, my hands crawling to my throat.

  The same throat that still harboured recollections of rape and restraint and ravaging awful masters.

  “Take off your dress.”

  I forced my hands to drop down my body, refusing to let them bunch up and shield me. Hadn’t I asked for this? Hadn’t I pushed for this to happen?

  Why then, when it was happening, was I absolutely petrified?

  I dropped my gaze, fingering the fringe flapper dress. I never thought I’d trade the freedom of being naked with the claustrophobia of remaining dressed. But here I was, reluctant to move because his eyes burned me until I threatened to combust into fire.

  He would incinerate me if I stood bare before him.

  His neck muscles rippled as he swallowed, never taking his gaze off my body. He stared at me as if I was his, as if I wasn’t human with opinions and decisions of her own. He didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t check to see how uncomfortable his intensity made me.

  He merely gave hunger a new symptom, turning everything against me.

  My heart swelled for sex. My pussy clenched for sex. My nipples pebbled for sex.

  Sex.

  Sex.

  Sex.

  How was this possible?

  I hated sex.

  I wanted nothing to do with sex.

  Yet the craving only grew worse.

  With a choir singing in my veins and a marching band pounding my chest, I stood taller.

  Sex was just something two consenting adults did together.

  Consent being the key word.

  I’d never had sex.

  I’d only had rape.

  This was new.

  This was fresh and unknown and nothing to be afraid of.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached to my side and unzipped the dress from under my arm to halfway down my hip.

  I shivered as the heavy material gaped, letting warm hotel air slip against my waist, drifting around my navel and down.

  Elder didn’t move.

  He didn’t breathe as I reached up to tug the thin straps off my shoulders, both at the same time, moving maddeningly slow as my instincts to run fought with my courage to stay. The fabric slid to my elbows and hung there, teasing the line of my bra, asking me politely if this was truly what I wanted. Did I truly want the dress to say goodbye and abandon me for the carpet? Did I honestly want El
der’s savage eyes to see what was hidden?

  My answer switched from yes to no to yes to no a million times over in a matter of seconds. I fought a war between the slave I’d been and the woman I wanted to become. Pim and Tasmin. Captive and free.

  With a heavy gulp, I dropped my arms.

  The heavy beaded dress skipped down my curves, licking my legs until falling into a lifeless black pool around my high heels.

  Elder grunted, short and deep, as if the simple act of unsheathing had affected him far more than he would ever acknowledge. Brushing his lips against the back of his hand, his gaze burned midnight, drinking me up and down.

  “Believe me when I say this. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” His eyes met mine for just a second before dropping back to the black velvet and lace lingerie I wore.

  All dinner, I’d cursed the tight elastic, the unforgiving underwire, the scratchy garter and slippery stockings. Having so many sensations clinging to me had caused more than one distraction throughout dinner. Not to mention the strappy black heels cutting into my feet, highlighting bones that hadn’t healed right and arthritis that shouldn’t have found me until I was much older.

  I would never be entirely limber. I wouldn’t be a gymnast with my fused cartilage and abused ligaments, but I could be beautiful.

  Elder had said so.

  And for the first time, I believed him.

  I believed in the way his lips parted as if I was the sunrise and sunset and not just a girl. I believed in the way his body contracted and softened as if one moment he’d leap to his feet and come to me and the next he forced himself to remain sitting and locked away.

  A shimmer appeared in my blood. Magic I’d never felt before.

  He gave me the gift of lust just by watching me. He made me understand the different layers and complexities of desire and the respect and magnitude of control it took to gaze upon the object of your fascination and not reach out and grasp it, not bruise it, not claim it, not do anything but appreciate it for however long you were permitted.

  I know what he’s doing.

  I suddenly understood the rules to everything without him having to speak.