Page 26 of Don't Say A Word

“Come. Kneel.”

She does as she’s instructed, no battle behind her eyes. She tries to use the blanket to shield herself, so I rip it from her, leaving her skin prickling with cold. And there it is again. That thick fog of desire that suffocates me whenever I’m near her. I never expected to be attracted to her. I expected to feel the same way as I did while watching the girls at the auction. Numb. But instead, my heartbeat quickens and my blood thickens at the sight of her.

I tell her what to expect. Tell her to kneel in submission when I utter that command phrase. She nods. And then I use the one thing I know she wants as a weapon against her. Information.

“One question.”

I know that allowing questions will not be part of Junior’s plan, but Junior is not here and I am. Besides, I’m compelled to know what lies behind her eyes.

She scans my face as though waiting for me to take it back.

“Well?” I prompt.

She doesn’t hesitate this time. “Why me?”

She looks at me so desperately, my heart cracks a little. She thinks this is her fault. She thinks that somehow her actions have landed her here. She is foolish. It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with him.

“You’ve been requested,” I inform her.

She mouths the word as though her lips have never formed it before. “By who?”

This is how I can use it as a weapon. Both a reward and a punishment. In being allowed to ask one question, receiving the answer only creates more.

But Junior is not a patient man, if you can call him a man. I snap at her, getting to my feet and looming over her to remind her of her position. But it’s only upon distancing myself that I can ask her to crawl.

“Excuse me?” she spits, taken back by my request.

That is my downfall. It was a request rather than a command. I take out the lash and she scrambles away as though there is escape. She cowers in the corner and I whip the lash across her shins. Tears spring to her eyes and I harden myself to them, knowing that if she doesn’t learn obedience, her punishment at Junior’s hands will be far worse than anything I can serve.

But she doesn’t want to submit, choosing to defy me even though her chin wobbles with the strain of keeping her tears within. I slump to the chair and command her to crawl again.

Indecision and defiance dance across her eyes.

“The choice is yours,” I lie.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she rocks forward, dropping to her hands and knees. She crawls toward me, eyes locked on mine and I can’t help my gaze from slipping to her body. She’s naked, after all. And she is glorious. She stops when she’s before me and stares at me with those sullen eyes. I swallow the knot of desire that burns within. I need to leave. I can’t be here, with her on her knees before me, her breasts firm and plump within my grasp, and stop the rising need to touch her.

“Are you hungry?” She doesn’t answer. “Wait here.” As though she could leave.

When the door closes behind me, I draw in a breath of air. Somehow the air within that room was stifling, as though there wasn’t enough oxygen and my brain was starved. But I know it was just her. She is the one who sucked up all the oxygen in the room. She is the one who burns like a flame that won’t go out.

Collecting fruit and a knife, I use the time to gather my thoughts. Part of me wishes I could call Senior and refuse the job. Tell him to get someone else to do it. But the thought of what someone else might do to her is the only thing that stops me. That and Everly. Her welfare is an unspoken threat. Something to keep me compliant.

When I walk back in, her eyes fix on the knife as though it is a lifeline. Something sick inside me surges at the thought of her holding it to my throat, pressing the blade and slicing as her naked body rides mine, ending this torment of conflict that has battled within, ever since I found out the truth of who the man who saved me is.

“Open,” I command, harsher this time.

As I feed her, I can’t help but touch her. Her lips are soft and full, they resist the pressure of my thumb and I wonder what her lips would feel like dragged across my skin. I handle her roughly, shoving my thumb into her mouth, wrapping my fingers around her neck, all the time inwardly reminding myself that she’s not mine.

She keeps her eyes trained on me, confronting me with her humanity as I manhandle her body, trying to distance myself while still doing what Senior requires of me. I lean forward, so close I can feel the heat of her breath, daring her to look away as I palm her breast and flick my thumb over her nipple. My cock surges as visions of taking her breast in my mouth come unwantedly to mind. Leaning back in the chair, I allow a smirk to pass over my face as she studies me intently.

“What’s that look supposed to mean?”

She has a burst of insanity, forgetting where she is. Who she is. Who I am. She braces for punishment, but I just can’t bring myself to strike her again.

“Nothing,” I mutter.

She takes each piece of fruit from me willingly. The brush of her lips on my fingers sends bolts of lust and longing into the pit of my stomach. And other places.

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