by C. Hallman
I get out of the car and open the back door to find her glaring at me, eyes filled with contempt. "Are you going to be a good girl, or are you going to make this difficult for yourself?"
She doesn't reply. Just keeps staring daggers at me in return, which only makes me smirk.
"Ah, the silent treatment. So fucking original, sugar. Come on, we're going."
I undo the seat belts holding her in place and help her get up. She doesn’t fight me, but she is fucking shaking, and her fear excites me. I march her into the house. If she’s surprised by how beautiful, expensive, and modern my home is, she doesn’t show it. She just keeps walking until we reach the bedroom.
“Get on the bed,” I hiss.
“Why?” she snaps. “So you can fucking rape me?”
“Keep dreaming. On the bed. Now.”
Sullenly, she gets up on the bed, and I open the nightstand to grab a pair of handcuffs. I attach one to her wrist and the other to the railing of the bed.
“Don’t do this,” she says softly as the handcuffs click shut. “Don’t leave me here. I have... I have things and people I love out there. Don’t keep me here.”
“You give me no choice, sugar.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she rushes to say. “I won’t tell anyone you killed those men. Just let me go.”
“I can’t,” I mutter, running a finger over her cheek. She flinches when I do it. I should feel like a bastard for doing this shit to her, but I'm just getting fucking excited. My cock strains against my pants, eager to break through the fabric and bury itself in her throat. But I fight my instincts the best I fucking can. "Are you afraid of me?"
"Yes," she replies instantly. "I don't trust you."
"I'm not going to hurt you. Not unless you ask for it."
"I'll never do that," Monroe hisses, making me smirk.
"We'll see. We're going to stay here tonight because I need to keep an eye on you. When you want to use the bathroom, you say so. Got it?"
She nods, her lips pressed together. "I'm thirsty."
I get her a glass of water and some fruit. When I get back, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Monroe stares ahead. Instead of simply handing her the water, I open the bottle for her, then hold it to her lips. She takes a few large gulps before turning her head slightly, signaling she is done.
Setting down the bottle, I pick up a piece of strawberry and hold it in front of her mouth, which pulls into a frown. “I can feed myself.”
“I know you can, but I’m going to do it. Open up.”
She huffs out in annoyance but opens her mouth regardless. I smirk, knowing she is trying to do it in the least sexy way possible. She simply laxes her jaw and sticks her tongue out like a sulking child. I find it adorable.
I set the strawberry on her tongue, making sure both my index finger and thumb touch the inside of her mouth as I do. I pull my hand away slowly, and her lips close, catching the tip of my index finger and sucking it back into her mouth.
My dick twitches, and I wish it was my cock back in her mouth. That is, until the moment her teeth sink into my flesh. She bites down on my finger, making me hiss out in pain.
In a split second, my free hand is wrapped around her throat. Her mouth flies open with a scream, releasing my finger. I don’t squeeze her neck. I simply hold her in place, making sure she knows who’s in charge.
“I’m sorry!” She apologizes quickly, all her sassiness replaced by fear.
“What am I going to do with you, Monroe?” I keep my fingers around her throat loosely, running my thumb over her jugular where I can feel her heart beating furiously. “I’m going to feed you the rest, and you are going to eat every bit I give you. Understood?”
She nods, and I release her. I feed her the fruit, and she takes every bit without another word. I wipe the red juice of the strawberries from the corner of her lips. Her eyes meet mine.
"I don't want to die."
"I'm not going to kill you, Monroe. But I need to figure this shit out. And if my employer finds out what I've done, you're fucking dead already."
She leans against the pillows, closing her eyes. A flash of guilt stabs through me, reminding me that I'm human after all. But as fast as it appears, it drifts off into nothing. Monroe's dress is riding up, and I can see her panties. I can see the wet spot in front of them. I reach forward, and she protests with a gasp as I rub my thumb over the front of them.
“Why are you fucking wet, sugar?”
“I...” She swallows her reply, glaring at me. “I don’t know.”
“Is this turning you on?”
“No!” She glares at me, her eyes shooting daggers. “I hate you.”
“I’m sure you fucking do. Is that why you’re wet?”
“I’m not,” she hisses, and I laugh out loud, swiping my fingers between her legs. They come away wet.
“So this isn’t real?” I ask her, licking my fingers. “Who are you dripping for, sugar?”
“Not you.”
“Oh, no? Then who? The bad men in the alley?"
"Fuck you." Her eyes shoot daggers at me. I've pissed her off now. "I don't get wet for killers."
"You keep lying to yourself, sugar." I reach between her legs and push her panties to the side. Her soaked pussy looks so fucking tempting that I groan as I swipe my fingers between her lips. "See this? This is for me. You're wet for me. Ready for me. Even though you say you don't want it, your body is fucking begging for it."
She grits her teeth together, refusing to reply. I push my fingers between her lips, and she fights back a moan. She is so fucking tight, I can barely move my finger in and out. Tight enough to be… I pull them back and glare at her. “Are you fucking kidding me, Monroe?”
“What?”
“Are you a goddamn virgin?”
“What? No, of course not," she snaps. “Why would you think that? And why would it matter anyway?”
"It matters because I don't want some prudish little girl," I growl. I can’t do what I’m planning to do to a virgin.
“Do you really think a virgin would work at Purgatory?” She rolls her eyes at me.
“I guess not,” I say, calming myself a bit more. I near her again and gently wipe her tears from her face. She keeps glaring at me. "You've had a long fucking day. You should get some rest."
"Handcuffed to your bed?"
"If you behave like a good girl, I'll give you more freedom."
"Great," she spits out, closing her eyes. Her body is wracked by sobs then. Soft whimpers escape her lips, and she stops caring. I watch her cry.
She's hiding something. I'll get it out of her soon enough. But not today. Today, Monroe needs to be comforted. Something that's fucking alien to me. Yet seeing her like this makes me want to learn how to help her.
Frustrated, I walk out of the room and slam the door shut. Leaning against it, I try to come to terms with everything that's happened.
There's an innocent girl handcuffed to my bed. Even if she isn’t a virgin, she is inexperienced, fucking naïve, and much too young for me.
Yet I already know I can't ever let her go.
6
Monroe
What the hell was I thinking? Why did I lie to him? I should have told him the truth that yes, I’m a fucking virgin. While my high school friends were going on dates and having sex, I spent my teenage years working and taking care of my grandma.
I have no idea what possessed me to lie, but the way he got mad about my possible innocence scared the shit out of me. He keeps saying he won’t kill me, but how can I believe him? What if he is only keeping me alive for sex? That would be more likely than anything else.
All these unanswered questions are giving me a headache, or maybe it’s the crying. I try to rub my forehead, forgetting I’m cuffed to the bed. The metal digs into my skin as I tug on it, causing me to yelp out in pain. Fuck.
Fresh tears fall down my cheek, soaking his crisp white pillow. I hope I at least leave a stain. It’s a ridiculous th
ought, but somehow it calms me a little. If I leave a stain, he’ll have to wash it, and imagining him doing the laundry makes him seem a little less scary and more… normal.
I’m not sure how long I’m left alone in the bed, but it feels like a long time. I’m exhausted, and my head hurts, but I still can’t go to sleep. My eyes won’t stay closed.
Just as the first morning light filters through the curtains, the door opens, and A's huge form enters the room. I try to sit up as much as I can, feeling a bit safer that way. Of course I know that’s an illusion. I’m not in any less danger.
“Did you not sleep any?”
“It’s a little hard to get comfortable being cuffed to the bed of the person I watched kill two people hours ago.”
Frowning at my answer, he reaches for something in his back pocket, and I immediately regret my mouthing off. A scream builds in my throat, but then I realize he only grabbed the key.
“I’m going to uncuff you, and then we’re both going to lie down and go to sleep,” he tells me while reaching for the cuffs. The click of the lock meets my ear, and then I’m free.
Pulling my arms down, I rub at my shoulders to alleviate the soreness from having been raised for so long. He undresses, and no matter how much I tell myself to look away, my gaze stays glued to him. His body is a work of art—his muscular form covered in ink and scars that tell a story of a savage life.
“I was only going to sleep, but if you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to do more than that,” A warns, and I avert my vision to the ceiling, making him chuckle.
A moment later, the mattress dips, and he moves to lie beside me. I’m still staring at the ceiling when his arm wraps around my body, and he pulls me into his. My back is against his chest, his body wrapped around mine like a blanket. I want to object… should object, but he is so warm, and his skin on mine feels so good.
“Sleep,” he whispers into the shell of my ear, and against all odds, I do.
I wake up with something heavy draped over my middle, pushing me down into the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on.
Opening my eyes, I feel nothing but disappointed in myself. Bright light is coming through the window, filling every corner of the room. How could I have slept through the night? In his bed. With him next to me. I’m still shocked that he left me uncuffed during the night, but then again, he is holding on to me like a bear holds a salmon.
Cursing myself, I force my breathing to remain even while I listen intently, trying to figure out if A is still sleeping. When I hear nothing but his heavy breath, I decide to take my chance. Ever so slowly, I wiggle my way out of his arm and off the mattress.
My bare feet make contact with the cool hardwood floor before I sneak a peek over my shoulder. A's eyes are closed, and his face remains lax.
On gentle feet, I start tiptoeing around the room, grabbing my dress and shoes off the floor as I head toward the door. My fingertips graze the metal doorknob when his deep voice booms through the room.
“Going somewhere?”
I pull my hand away from the knob like it suddenly bursts into flames. Spinning around while clutching the dress to my chest, I stare at A’s scowling at me from the bed. Lifting his finger, he motions for me to come back to bed.
Sighing in defeat, I drop my clothes and walk back to the bed with my head hanging low. “You can’t expect me not to try.”
“I expect you not to succeed, for your own sake.”
“You can’t just keep me here.”
“I can, and I will. The pleasantness of your stay with me is entirely up to you, but I can promise you one thing. If you try to leave again, I will kill you.”
I swallow. Hard. He’s not joking. The death glare he gives me right now leaves no room for a misunderstanding. If I don’t listen, he’ll kill me.
“I need money,” I blurt out.
He cocks his head at me, inspecting me curiously. “Money? I just gave you a bunch. What did you do with that cash?”
“I paid off some debt and a few bills ahead,” I say truthfully. “But more bills are going to pile up soon, and I can’t not pay them.”
“What kind of bills?”
“My apartment for one, my phone and power bill…” I trail off. There is really not much more besides Grams’s facility, but I’m not ready to tell him about that.
“You won’t need any of that since you are staying here. Tell me the real reason you need that money. Are you sending it to someone?”
“I just need it, okay? You want to keep me as your live-in sex toy? Fine, pay me. I want nine hundred dollars a week. You can do whatever you want to me for that.”
Excitement glistens in his eyes, and I’m already certain he is going to take the deal. “Why not just keep you and force you to be my sex toy for free?”
“Because I know you’d rather have me cooperate.” At least I hope. He killed the two guys for almost raping me, so I am going out on a limb and saying he doesn't want to force me.
“Fine, I’ll give you nine hundred a week, but let's get two things straight. One, I still don’t trust you. Two, I get to do whatever I want, which is going to be a very specific fantasy of mine.” A smile tugs on his lips, but his eyes are anything but friendly. They promise something dark.
“L-like what?” I remember him having me in the BDSM room and not being interested in any of the toys there. I know what people do in the other rooms upstairs, and none of that scares me. It’s the stuff they do downstairs that has my skin crawling. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“No,” he says right away, and a weight—one I didn’t even know was there— is lifted from my chest. “What I have planned won’t hurt you, but it is a bit unorthodox.”
“You won’t tell me what it is?”
“No. I'd rather it be a surprise.” He kicks off the blanket and gets out of the bed. My eyes fall onto his almost naked body. He is only wearing a pair of black boxers, the rest of his muscular body on full display.
“If you won’t tell me that, will you at least tell me your name?”
“Alaric.”
Alaric. I try the name out in my head. It’s stupid, but I’m a little less scared of him now that I know his name. It makes him a little less mysterious and a little more human.
“Come on, let’s take a shower.” Alaric motions for me to enter the attached bathroom.
“Together?” I ask as if I don’t already know the answer.
“Yes.” He smirks.
I step into the bathroom, suddenly feeling a bit shy, which is stupid, considering what I just agreed on doing. Besides, he already saw me completely naked at the club.
“Take your shirt and panties off,” he orders while ridding himself of his own underwear. I watch his already hard cock spring free, and my mouth waters as the memory of that thing in my mouth resurfaces.
Grabbing the hem of the shirt I slept in, I pull it over my head, realizing how tight and sensitive my nipples feel. He turns on the shower while keeping his eyes trained on me as I push down my panties next.
The large shower is made for at least two people, but as I step inside with Alaric, it feels small and cramped. If it wasn't for the shower walls being made of glass, I would surely have a panic attack right about now.
Intricate mosaic tiles line the inside of the shower, but I have a hard time appreciating it at the moment. I’m too busy eyeing the man in front of me. He is a good foot taller than me, his chest so large it seems like it’s permanently puffed out. His upper arms are the size of my thighs, and his hands could easily wrap around my entire throat.
Uncertainty worms its way through my body. Did I just make a deal with the devil? He said he wouldn’t hurt me, but can I believe him? Can I trust him so easily?
“Get the washcloth and put some soap on it. I want you to wash me.” I stare at the washcloth hanging on a hook like it’s a foreign object. “All of me,” he specifies.
Nodding, I take the cloth and squirt some soap on it like instruc
ted. The fresh masculine scent fills my nose as I tentatively bring the rag to Alaric’s stomach and start to rub it over his skin. Soap bubbles form as I drag it up across his hair-covered chest and over his shoulders while the running water washes it away almost immediately.
“Is this your kink? Me washing you?”
“No.” The sound of his deep laughter echoing around the room takes me by surprise. “Not that, but I do like your hands on me.”
Besides the occasional muscle twitching, he stands completely still while I wash his entire upper body. That changes as soon as I lower myself to my knees. I look up at him through my lashes and notice his chest puffing up, making him look impossibly big. I feel like a dwarf in front of a giant, hoping not to get crushed.
While on my knees, I tentatively start running the cloth over each of his legs. His large thighs flex every time I get even close to his cock, which I’m definitely saving for last. After both of his legs, I reach around and do his taut ass cheeks. He groans, the sounds vibrating through my body, and I can’t help imagining what his ass looks like while he takes me.
I shut down my dirty thoughts as my face turns red. I drop the washcloth to the ground, knowing I won’t need it for what's to come next.
My eyes finally land on the iron rod between his legs, which I have been trying to avoid. It looks painfully swollen, making me feel a little guilty that I haven't helped him relieve this.
“I want you to jerk me off, and when I’m ready to come, you’re going to close your eyes and open your mouth so I can come all over your pretty face.”
Swallowing hard, I nod slightly and follow his command. I wrap my small hand around his swollen shaft and start to stroke up and down his length. He groans and thrusts his hips into my hand so slightly, I’m not sure he is aware of doing it.
“Do you even know how hard you make me? Pretending you don’t know what you are doing. Use both hands, sugar. Jerk me like you mean it.”
Again, I do what he says. Using both of my hands, I stroke him hard. His groans get louder, and his body starts twitching while my knees are aching and my arms are starting to get tired.
