Page 161 of Inevitable Endings
I know better than to look up.
Here, like this, I’m his. No control. No power. Just obedience.
I close my legs tightly, instinctively, foolishly, as if that will keep him from seeing how wet I am. But I know better than to think anything escapes his gaze.
He finally reaches down, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. My heart lurches at the sight of it. I hadn’t realized just how badly I need it until I smell it, clean, cold, teasing my senses.
Then his hand comes down, locking onto my jaw with a grip that says‘you’re mine’in every knuckle.
My head is jerked upward, eyes forced to meet his. I wince, more from the lack of movement my restraints allow than from the pressure. I can barely move my arms, barely lift my head. And he knows it.
“I can’t—” I start, voice small.
“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts. His tone is calm, a warning painted in velvet. “You’ll take what I give you.”
Then he lifts the bottle to my lips.
The moment the water touches my tongue, I moan. Shame burns my cheeks, but I can’t stop myself. I drink greedily, gulping as fast as he allows, desperate and messy.
“Take your time,solnyshko,” he murmurs, and there’s something cruel in the softness. “We’re not in a rush.”
I slow down, but only just.
Another gulp, and the water dribbles over my lips, down my chin. It traces the curve of my throat, over my bare chest. The lace of my bra soaks through. More slides down my stomach, catching in the hollow between my ribs.
His gaze follows it like a promise.
I pull away slightly, the tip of my tongue still wet, my lips tingling with the relief of that first drink. My throat works around the last swallow, and my voice is barely more than a whisper.
“Thank you.”
The words escape like they’ve been stolen from me. Voluntary and involuntary all at once. Gratitude and resignation, laced with something rawer. Something I don’t want to name.
‘‘What happened?’’
‘‘I put something in your last wine glass.’’
The bastard, he drugged me before we even had the conversation.
My head bows again, my gaze finding the floor.
“Eyes on me,solnyshko,” he says.
The words are firm but not loud. Still, they land like a commandment.
I don’t lift my head.
I can’t.
I kneel there between his legs like a pet, breath shallow, muscles shaking, and the only thing missing is a collar, and I know, with the way he’s watching me, that it’s not far. I can feelit. The weight of his intent. The shape of what’s coming.
And then, he moves.
His chair scrapes back a fraction, and I feel the shift in air behind me as he rises. My skin prickles violently with goosebumps, each hair standing in alert reverence as he moves behind me. Every cell in my body braces.
His hand grips the back of my hair.
He yanks my head back, forcing my line of vision toward the ceiling with a sharp cry falling from my lips. My spine bows, restrained arms tightening uselessly against the belts at my sides. The vulnerability is total, perfect. A masterpiece of helplessness.
