Page 45 of Pose for Me
Somethinginside meshiftedwhen I saw Lane lose his shit. I wanted to break him, wanted him under my thumb so much that he wouldn’t dream of leaving me, even if I left the door wide open.
But him breaking to the point where I had to shove my cock in his mouth to calm him down wasn’t the plan. He sucked it gratefully, his tears staining my thigh and puddling under me.
Surprisingly, I feel…bad. Well, not bad, but…hollow. Almost gutted.
I was drawn to Lane because of that hard outer shell he showed the world when he called me out and for his first two weeks as my prisoner. I wanted to get to the soft part underneath.
What he showed me when I walked into his cell? That was something else. Something deeper I tapped into that had nothing to do with me.
I want to know what it was.
I want to know who hurt him so I can hurt them.
That strong, almost overwhelming feeling I had toward him grew exponentially during the time he was suckling my cock and when he eventually fell asleep. He was so drained that he didn’teven wake when—after I slid my cock from between his lips and tucked myself away—I scooped him into my arms and brought him upstairs to my room. He didn’t wake when I laid him in my bed. And he didn’t wake when I stripped him of his shirt and pants and clamped a chain around his ankle.
He slept through it all like his breakdown took every bit of strength he had left.
As I sit on the side of the bed and stare at his slack face, I run through exactly what happened in that cell tonight.
When I stepped inside and Lane jumped on me, I was in a position that would have made it easy for him to bolt. When he wrapped that chain around my neck, even as weak as he was, he could have done some serious damage. When he was straddling me, hitting me with his ineffective but fast fists, he could have tried to run.
But he didn’t.
He stayed.
When there were several opportunities for him to escape, he stayed. To beat my ass, yes, but he didn’t try to incapacitate me so he could escape. He wanted me to understand how I hurt him, how he’s been in that cell, waiting for me to keep my promise, and I didn’t.
Lane is fully and completely mine. Now it’s time for me to take care of him.
It’s illogical, wanting to keep the FBI agent that wants me in prison for the rest of my life, but I can’t kill him. Not anymore. Now, I want him to belong to me and only me.
Reaching out, I brush his hair back from his forehead, noticing how thin he’s gotten, how sunken his cheeks are, even through the facial hair. His eye sockets look too hollow. He’s too close to being a fucking skeleton.
I almost wake him up to make him eat, but if I’m going to take care of him, I need to let him rest. I can feed him in the morning.
Fuck, this isn’t me. I don’t care about anyone besides my brother and his wife enough to want to take care of them. This is all new for me, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and call Jacob.
He answers with, “If you want me to move a fucking body, the answer is no, Ry.”
Despite the situation, I laugh. “I take it Alayna isn’t around.”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “She’s in bed. I’m in my office. Why are you calling me so late if it’s not about helping you toss pieces of a vagrant into a river?”
I look at Lane, wondering how to ask Jacob what I want. This situation we’re in isn’t anything like Jacob and Alayna’s marriage. Jacob didn’t kidnap my sister-in-law. They met at a fucking coffee shop, something out of a rom-com or some shit.
But who else can I ask? I don’t speak to my work colleagues about my personal life, and I only talk to my college friends—if you can call them that—for birthdays and holidays. Jacob may not be in my situation, but he’s all I have.
Exhaling deeply, I say, “I took your advice and went to let Lane out of the cell. And…he fucking lost it.”
I can almost see Jacob’s eyebrow tick up. “Worse than what I saw?”
I grin and run my hand over Lane’s hair once more. “Yeah, he tried to beat my ass for leaving him alone when I promised I wouldn’t. He was really fucking upset.”
“Please don’t tell me you popped a boner when he was fucking you up,” Jacob says exasperatedly, probably hearing the fondness in my tone.
I scoff. “No, Jacob. He didn’t turn me on, but I was…almost proud of him for handing me my ass for breaking a promise. Means I can’t do it again, right?”
