Page 34 of Sinning for Santa

“That’s okay,” I rush out. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Suddenly, his dark eyes glare as he storms towards me, and a squeak leaves me as I try to sink back further in the chair, squeezing my eyes shut as I brace for impact.

The impact I was waiting for never comes, but another embarrassing squeak leaves me as I find myself getting hoisted up off the chair and over his shoulder like he did earlier at the church.

This time, when my fists pummel his back, they meet the searing heat of his skin.

“Stop! Put me down!”

“You know your punches are like a form of foreplay for me, don’t you? They’re making my cock hard.”

As his words register, I quickly cease my assault which only makes him chuckle, before I find my world the right way up as he flips me, my back bouncing off his mattress as he looms over me.

“We are sleeping in the same bed, little mouse. I’m too fucking tired to argue with you about this. I will get you a shirt to sleep in, and you can use the bathroom to shower and wash off the mud you decided to play in earlier.” He gestures his thumb over his shoulder where I notice an open bathroom door. “And then, little mouse, you will get into this fucking bed and go to sleep. Am I making myself clear?”

I open my mouth to protest, but the savage glare he shoots me has me snapping my lips shut.

Your life is in his hands, Jaxcen. Stop infuriating the devil.

Before I know what’s happening, he flips me face down and settles his weight over me, my heart thundering in my chest as I brace for what’s about to come.

This is it, he’s going to rape me.

“The only word I want to hear from you right now, is yes.” He rasps against my ear, his breath hot, sending an unsolicited shudder down my spine.

I nod into the mattress, “Y-yes.”

“Atta girl,” he rasps before his weight shifts off me and the palm of his hand slaps my arse.

I squeal, quickly rolling over to watch his retreating back as he enters another door, which looks like a walk-in wardrobe. For a brief moment I glance through the open bedroom door, to the living room, and wonder how easy it would be for me to run.

I’ve already tried numerous times tonight to get away from this man, all unsuccessful, and I get the feeling now that I’m surrounded by his loyal followers that the possibility of me escaping is unattainable.

As I shift to sit up on the bed, Devon re-enters with a white t-shirt in his hand. Tossing it at me, it slaps into my face and he chuckles as I glare with a huff, watching him move into the bathroom.

At the sink, he starts splashing water over his face, and I wait patiently on his bed, taking in my filthy feet and hands.

Ew. My hands. I didn’t even wash them before I ate.

Shame fills me at how revolting that is. I never forget to wash my hands before I eat. I’ve probably just ingested so many germs I’ll wake up sick tomorrow.

Shaking off thoughts of my impending illness, my gaze flicks back to the hard plains of muscle that ripple over Devon’s back as he bends and starts brushing his teeth.

Outside of Cloud 9, I’ve never seen a man like this so nearly naked. Aside from my dad, of course, which doesn’t count.

I’ve never actually seen Eddie’s body under his clothes. He’s never taken his shirt off in front of me. Even when we’ve been swimming, he wears a rashi, covering up his torso. And now, I realise that perhaps, I really don’t know the man I’m meant to marry at all.

Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling a connection to him like I should be. Maybe it’s more than just the fact that he won’t let me touch him, or that he won’t let me see him without clothes on. But perhaps the fact that he won’t let me get to know him, always telling me we will have the rest of our lives for that.

He hasn’t always been like that, of course. As kids, we were best friends. And even when I was shipped off to the ‘facility’ for those three horrible years, he was still the one person I could count on, aside from my sister.

We wrote to each other back and forth, although my return letters took some time, since I wasn’t always in a state to write, but for the most part, things between Eddie and me were good. At least I thought they were, but something happened when we turned fourteen.

He told me I was going to be his wife one day, and like every silly little girl’s dream, I was excited for the day I’d have my white wedding, and white picket fence. I wanted nothing more than to marry him. To be his wife and have that dream together.

But now that I think about it, I’m really not sure our dreams align.

Sure, he wants a wife, and I’ve always thought of myself as his girlfriend since that day when we were fourteen, but asidefrom hanging out together and going places, we haven’t done anything remotely like a boyfriend and girlfriend would.

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