Page 48 of Delivered to the Devil

“Not that tongue,” he growls. But when he gathers my wrists in one hand to stroke my lips with the other, his touch is gentle. The pad of his thumb travels the length of my bottom lip, and a wet sound makes me think he’s licking his own lips.

Is he thinking about kissing me?

I know he won’t do it, but the mere thought that he might want to stirs up a plethora of feelings I shouldn’t have. My breaths deepen and my lips slip farther apart to give him better access. He circles his thumb around my mouth a few times, then slowly slides past my lips, into my mouth. I let out a small mewl as he presses his thumb to my tongue. Somehow, it’s more intimate than a kiss. I lean my head back, welcoming his touch. He draws circles around my tongue the same way he would in a kiss, then slides the pad back and forth before slowly pushing farther in, toward my throat.

I go absolutely still, breathing hard as he reaches the point that would normally trigger my gag reflex. He keeps it there for a minute, like he’s relishing the power he holds over me—my willingness to let him in.

Slowly, he draws back. But I’m not ready to lose his touch, so I close my lips around his thumb and suck.

Janos groans and pauses his retreat. Now it’s my turn to swirl my tongue and lick back and forth along his finger. I wish it was something else I was sucking, and I know he does too as his breaths deepen.

I groan with discontentment as he pulls out.

“Dirty, dirty girl.” He tuts as he strokes his knuckles over my cheek. When my tongue is about to dart out, he presses two fingers to my lips. “Don’t,” he scolds. “If you keep doing that, I’ll have to leave.”

Because you’re not supposed to fuck me?I want to ask, but hold my tongue. The situation is too precarious for boldquestions, and I can’t stand the thought of him leaving. So I stay still as I wait for him to make the next move.

The next move is food—disappointing food. But when Janos slips a piece of spicy meat past my lips, there’s nothing disappointing about it at all. A world of flavor bursts into my senses, and I only realize I’m moaning when I hear the sound drift into the room.

I tense. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Please don’t leave.”

Janos pries my clenched hands apart and takes one in his warm grip. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.” He squeezes my hand and holds on to it as he keeps feeding me. Every now and then, he’ll swipe his thumb across my knuckles or move his palm against my fingers. It’s all very disarming—the feeding, the loss of sight, and the tenderness.

When he’s done feeding me, everything becomes quiet. Releasing my hand, he turns off the TV and goes still before me. I can clearly sense him—his powerful presence looming before me, strong and steady as ever.

It’s peaceful in a rare sort of way. My hands remain calm in my lap, my eyes enclosed in darkness. I’ve seen so much, yet so little lately. I’ve stared into nothingness and witnessed the violations my body has endured, and still, I haven’t truly perceived anything. Now, it’s like my eyes can finally rest, and I let the moment entrance me as I soak up the quiet intimacy that requires neither touch nor words.

I’m no longer sure the connection between Janos and me is an illusion, but I’m not sure it’s real either, and I need to know.

“Why are you here?” My words fade into the same silence they broke.

A minute passes before Janos breathes a heavy sigh. “I need to know you’re okay.”

New silence descends. Because I don’t know what to say. I’m not okay. Not sure I’ll ever be. Yet, compared to yesterday, I’m far more than okay, and I intend to cling to this new breath of life with everything I have. So I draw a deep breath and let my plea sound on my exhale.

“Will you please stay—for more than just a day?” I say fervently, because Janos is the only thing that will keep the hope burning inside me.

Another long minute passes without an answer, and my breath remains stuck in my throat until Janos speaks.

“Okay.”

The air swooshes past my lips, and my whole body reels like I’ve just stepped off the ledge of a steep cliff.

A large hand folds around mine, guiding me to stand. Letting my eyes remain blind, Janos leads me to the bathroom, where he places me in the middle of the room as he fills the tub. He doesn’t remove the robe belt until he’s about to wash my hair, and by then, I’m so calm I could fall asleep in the tub.

CHAPTER 23

“Elysian Woes”

by Opeth

Rebecca

Janos keeps his promise and is here every day. Most nights, he sleeps in the red chair, and if he doesn’t, he comes at the crack of dawn. On some days, he only stays long enough to shove the butt plug into my ass and feed me before he leaves again and is gone until dinner. Other days, he stays here, working on his computer and taking work calls in Hungarian, Russian, or English—always leaving the room when it’s the latter.

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