Page 4 of Vengeful Eyes
“You have a present,” he muses, the tension in his voice evaporated.
“Thank you. You didn’t need to.”
He stares at me, undisclosed meaning in his eyes, and then nods at the table, encouraging me to the side of the room. I peel back the corner of the white napkin. My stomach rolls as I stare down at the two jelly-like orbs. Red tissue surrounds each eye with a bloody tentacle still attached. I cover it back up, blanking any reaction that Benjamin may catch from my expression, and go back over to him and take my seat.
“He shouldn’t have looked at you. You’re mine,” he mumbles.
“I know that.” My voice is level and calm.
“Good. He didn’t.”
I work my arm around to Benjamin's neck and start to thread my fingers through his short hair, trailing them down to the top of his tattoo at his collar to slowly remove his tie. It’s a process I repeat again and again, rubbing the tension from him until he lets out a deep breath and finally looks at me. The blackness in his eyes clears, resorting back to the midnight blue that holds a world of mystery I’ve still to work out.
“I have some work to attend to,” he says, reaching for my hands to remove them. I know the deal by now, but it doesn’t mean the disappointment isn’t genuine to some degree.
My head obediently nods, though, as he pulls himself from the sofa and heads to his office.
And the waiting game begins again.
My fingers pull open the fridge, looking for a sweet treat. I exercise enough to be able to indulge occasionally, and this is just the time. Mother always criticised my figure, but of course I was a lot less athletic when she was still alive. No matter what I did to try to shield myself from her venom, I couldn’t. Towards the end, treats weren’t something we could indulge in anyway, not when I struggled to pay medical bills and put any type of food on the table.
The baked cheesecake sits on the second shelf, staring at me. Taunting me. I pull the plate out and grab a fork, digging into the creamy goodness. After tonight, I deserve something sweet. Those eyeballs are still in the other room. Benjamin won’t think to move them. He gave them as a present. That’s his own screwed up way of delivering respect. I’ll have to ask Torino to do something with them. I turn back to the dessert and take another swipe with my fork. And another.
These are the times that test me the most. Being the dutiful mistress and never crossing the line of being too personal is trying. I’ve gotten that tightrope wrong on several occasions. In the early days when he first moved me in, I’d overstep—expect to be included, be too visible. He made sure I learned my lesson thoroughly through pain and threats. His polished position of power might be one he’s built over years of work—a public image, a face to the business—but behind the closed door, that can slip. The result is never pleasant.
Knowing he’s here but I can’t reach him challenges the part of my brain that’s had to plan and manipulate my whole life. My nature doesn’t allow me to sit still or forget. I need drive and purpose in my life. Those can be difficult to come by when your life is ruled by another.
Three years ago, when I first met Benjamin, I never anticipated he could change me, but he has. I have to stop myself sometimes when I find myself wanting to put his needs before mine, and not just for the obvious things. After all, the role of a mistress does have some specific duties, but it’s the other things, too—his happiness and well-being. If Benjamin can ever be considered happy.
To hell with it. My frustration cracks.
I cut a piece of the cake and walk over to Benjamin’s office. The door’s not closed, which means he doesn’t mind me interrupting. But before I can lift my hand to knock, I hear the name that’s haunted me forever. The name that focused the ambition and drive in my life. The name that brought me into Benjamin’s arms.
Cane.
“I don’t care. I want you both in New York, Cane. You started this. It's time to talk business.”
I retreat, abandoning the surprise I had in store, and dump the cheesecake in the kitchen to rush to the bedroom and shut myself away. My heart rattles against my chest. After three years, this is the closest I’ve been. I may have had to play the long game by earning Benjamin’s trust, but I knew it would come eventually. Their worlds are too closely connected to avoid meetings forever. The Cane brothers. In New York.
At his request.
“Hope, what’s going on?” Benjamin walks in, tension in his voice. I can only assume he’s confused over the half-eaten desserts abandoned in the kitchen. He hates mess.
“I thought we could have something to eat before bed, but I forgot something.” Improvisation is a must when you haven’t been entirely honest with your partner.
I untie the knot at my waist and let the robe pool at my feet, distracting him from my thoughts, then unclasp my bra and let it drop before peeling my panties down my legs. I step forward slowly, like I’m stalking him. My hip brushes his leg as I go back to the kitchen to fetch the cheesecake. I put the remainder back in the fridge and turn to bring the slice back to him, but he’s not waiting in the bedroom.
“You wanted to distract me from work with this?” He runs his finger through the soft, creamy filling and presents it to my lips. I open, sucking his finger clean.
“I missed you.”
The darkness in his eyes comes racing back. With a deft hand, he swipes the plate from my fingers, letting it smash against the floor before he grabs my neck, pulling me against him. His lips devour me, nipping and biting as he ravages my mouth. My naked skin rubs against the fine fabric of his suit. His hands roam over me, his fingers digging into my flesh as if he can’t get close enough to me.
Without losing a beat, he unzips his fly, and I feel him bend to get the right angle to shove up inside of me. I lift my leg over his hip to help and feel when the tip breaches and pushes inside of me. My breath hitches, as it always does, and I moan out loud to increase his fervor.
He backs me up against the wall and begins to push me around, shunting into me and making me pant. It’s immediately violent in nature. My arms wrap around his neck, holding on as tightly as possible as he uses me for what he needs. The intensity never lessens. When Benjamin fucks, it’s like he can’t help but act on buried feelings. He’s ruthless and brutal, angry even. Fingers dig into me, nails clawing for a more passionate grasp. It all sets me alight. His look. His touch.
As he pushes me higher up the wall, I wrap both legs around him, giving him better purchase. Every stroke builds my own pleasure, the pressure burning through my muscles, ready to release.
