Page 8 of Blood Spilled
His fingers wrap around my neck, pressing on my wound and he forces my head back. I clench my jaw, wincing from the pain. “I'd be careful what you ask for. One might interpret your words wrong.” His free hand trails down the front of my body, his fingers warm and welcoming to my shivering skin. Heat spreads from each touch he gives me, lessening the pain from the prickling cold air.
My body was already wanting more of him to block the frigid air from my skin when his fingers wrapped around my neck, and I hate it. I hate myself even more.
“What's this?” He grins as he notices my body leaning into his touch. “You don't want me to stop, do you?” He glances at my limp dick. “Do you need help warming up there too?”
“Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” I grit my teeth and his fingers wrap around my cock and like the traitor it is, it starts to grow between his gliding fingers.
“I don’t think you mean that.” He tugs on my cock, stroking me until I'm leaking and making desperate sounds like a needy whore. It’s been so long since anyone touched me. In any kind ofway that feels good at least, and as much as I hate it, I don't know if I'm ready for it to stop. Because then I go back to freezing and being alone inside a cage. He slides his thumb over my slit, smearing in my precum.
“You like that, little mouse? Does that make you feel good?” I arch my back and a moan escapes my lips. His movements increase, causing me to pant louder. My body jerks and my legs tremble. I moan louder and am so close to bliss, my hips rock forward. Before I can fully fall over the edge, his hand stops. “Doesn't feel so good now does it?”
I struggle to catch my breath when his hand pulls away from me and my face flushes from frustration. I can feel the veins in my neck bulging. He chuckles. “Good. Remember why you are here and remember none of this is for your benefit. Maybe I would have let you come if I wasn't drenched in piss.”
He stands up and straightens his neck. “I think that's enough fun for you this evening. Just know your bad behavior cost you dinner.”
I spit his way. “Good, I don't want to eat your nasty dog food shit anyway.”
He smiles. “It's a shame. Because tonight I was going to actually give you real food. I believe my mom’s famous chicken enchiladas were on the menu tonight. She always did make the best food, leaving me behind many of her recipes. Maybe I'll still bring it in and leave it out of your reach just so you can know what you missed out on.”
He spins around, laughing as he exits the room. Hearing the locks turn on the other side of the door, I stare down at the cuffs around my ankle and wrist, being reminded of the prisoner I've become.
Eight
Angel
He threw piss at me. That son of a bitch interrupted me while I had company and threw piss on me. The more he acted out and pissed me off, the easier it made it for me to make him suffer. I’d worried I was going soft when I couldn't stomach watching him choke on that water earlier. When I walked into that room, I didn't know what was going to happen. If I was going to get a sweet, compliant Santiago or the one who fought back.
As much as I enjoyed him submitting like a good boy, I enjoyed giving him his punishments even more. Being the one to give his body pleasure and rip it away sent me on a new high I never thought was possible. One I'm quickly growing addicted to.
Watching the sudden loss in his eyes was everything to me at that moment and then when I closed the door behind me, the memory of those green empty eyes left me with the need to go back in there and fill them with more than pain. That wasn'tthe biggest problem. I didn't want to stop touching him when I should. His skin was soft and silky in my hands. I had almost got lost in his moans and had to force myself away from him.
The clearing of someone's throat allows me to temporarily escape my own mind. Gabriel and Mateo are still in the kitchen staring at me with large eyes. Gabriel has a smirk on his face, while Mateo doesn't seem too pleased.
“Everything all right?” Gabriel asks. I nod. “It will be.” Even more so after I take a damn shower.
Mateo sniffs the air and scrunches up his nose. “Did you piss yourself?”
I groan and Gabriel laughs. “Something tells me it isn't his piss.”
Mateo laughs. It's loud and mocking. “Serves you right for keeping that piece of shit here. I hope he throws shit at you next.”
Gabriel laughs along with him, trailing his hand down Mateo's hip. Jealousy runs through me, causing my stomach to sink. It's not because I want Mateo. There are times I crave the same thing my brother has with him though. Someone to touch whenever I want, and someone to hold me up on the days I feel unsteady, which are most days.
None of my past relationships ever amounted to anything. In fact, I can barely even call them relationships.
Gabriel whispers something into Mateo's ear, making him smile, both of their eyes full of heat and lust. “I think that's our cue to say goodbye. As fun as it's been hanging around here and listening to you play with your new toy, I’d rather go home and play with mine. Besides, it smells like a litter box in here,”
Gabriel says with a low chuckle.
Mateo's eyes are too busy getting lost in my brother to even realize I'm still in the room.
“Come on, princessa. Let's get you home and in bed.”
Mateo leans his head against my brother's shoulder, following him to the door. Just when I think Mateo's too lost in his arousal, he turns around before closing the door. “I meant what I said, Angel. If you don't take care of your little problem soon, I will. I don't give a damn what information he holds. The longer he's alive, the more of a chance there is of someone finding out. I can see it getting ugly real fast once his mother knows the real reason that casket was found empty.”
The door slams loudly behind him. I know he's right, but a huge part of me doesn't care. At this point the information he holds is nothing more than a bonus and an excuse to hold him here.
My main prize is seeing him begging and desperate. He is slowly getting there, and I am not ready to give up on my victory of making Santiago a broken man. When I'm done, maybe I'll mail him to his mother in pieces. As I imagine bringing a knife to his skin, a smile forms on my face. I can always pretend like I'm going to do it sooner too. He won't know any different. If I warm the blade up after leaving him to freeze in the cage some more, will he chase it the way he did my hand?
