Page 30 of Lust

“Just sit, Valentine. Sit up and look at me.”

I can’t look at him, because I can already feel a flush of blood rising to my cheeks. Now that the threat of being tortured and murdered by him has been taken away, it’s allowing blistering embarrassment to take its place.

“I thought you’d want me strapped down for whatever you were going to do to me.”

I hear some chains rattle and when I look up, Dade’s giving me a withering look. He opens his hands and holds them out. “I’m chained to the wall. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You've led me to a sex dungeon. How am I supposed to know what I'm supposed to do?” I worry that my confession of inexperience might cost us points, so I clamp my mouth shut.

“You don’t have to do anything.” His expression holds a genuine weight. There’s a sadness to his eyes and a vulnerability that pulls at my heart strings despite myself. “This isn’t a sex club, though it is a place of torture. It’s a prison.”

“Your greatest fantasy is a prison?” I shudder. I’m not sure what’s worse. At least he’s admitting it and it’s not another place the Earthery has pulled from my subconscious.

“No. I have already told you my greatest fantasy, and it hasn’t changed in the last five minutes, however it is now twined with the fantasy of not making my miserable existence worse than it already is.” His voice is harsh and leaves me in no doubt he’s enjoying the questioning about as much as I’m enjoying this experience.

I don’t understand what he means, so I sit still, waiting for something to happen. He slumps against the wall, his head down and his arms twisted out above him in what looks like a painful contortion. The chains are long enough so that he can sit on the floor. With him not looking at me, I allow myself the time to process the situation. I’m in a prison, no doubt one from Dade’s time, judging by the damp walls and lack of electric light. The only light in the place is coming from a barred window high up in the wall. There’s a wooden door to one side which is no doubt locked. My nerves are on edge, waiting for something to happen when Dade groans. My attention jumps right back to him. I’m so skittish that even the sound from his mouth has me on edge. He’s still slumped over, his head bowed low, but the movement of his legs and hips makes me realize he’s in pain.

Not pain.

He’s turned on. The music is playing in his head.

I bring my hand to my mouth as I realize what he’s doing. This isn’t his greatest fantasy at all. He was lying to me, but to protect me. He thought of a prison precisely because he knew he’d be able to lock himself up. He’s saving me from having to do to him what he did to me. The chains are to save me.

“Dade?”

He doesn’t look up.

“Dade?” I try again. When he doesn’t answer, I jump down off the bed. My feet make a tapping sound on the floor, causing him to look up. He looks awful. His face is flushed and sweat has his long hair sticking to his face. I flash back to when he was in the shower with me, his fingers inside me and his hair slick and wet like it is now. Except it was me with that expression of pure need on my face. Me, who was in unimaginable pain with desire. Now that he’s shifted position, I see the bulge in his pants straining to escape. It looks huge and painful.

“Don't!” His expression twists with manic intensity. “Don't come any closer, Valentine.”

My heart races within my chest as uncertainty grips me. “Let me help you,” I plead, my voice trembling.

“Step away and get back on the table,” he orders, his tone commanding.

“I can't,” I cry out. “Not when you're like this.”

His desperation is visceral. His face is twisted and though I hate to admit it, the intense need in his eyes is turning me on in a strange and terrifying way. I don’t even have the music to blame. I can’t hear it. He licks his lips, dragging a bead of sweat from his top lip onto his tongue. It’s an incredibly sexual gesture, though I don’t even think he knows he’s doing it. He looks crazed.

“You helped me,” I say, taking another step toward him. “Let me help you. Please Dade.”

When he speaks, his voice is low and rough and I can tell it’s hard for him to keep calm. “I said sit back up on the table and stay there. Do not come near me.”

The fear of what he’ll do to me is long gone. Now I only feel helpless as he writhes around. He can’t even reach to give himself relief with his hands manacled above his head.

“Stand up!” I shout over. I’m not sure if he’s even listening to me anymore. The growls emanating from his throat are both terrifying and sexy as hell. “Stand up and you can reach… yourself.” I can’t bring myself to say the word cock, or dick, or anything else. I feel like just mentioning it will make it worse.

“I will not!” he roars. “Sit the fuck down. On. The. Table! Now!”

I shout back. “No!”

He locks his eyes with mine, capturing me in a manic stare. “Sit down or I will strangle myself with these chains and put both of us out of our misery.”

I do as he says, perching on the edge, ready to jump up. I can stop this. I can do something. With my hands, my mouth. I can put an end to his suffering. I remember all too vividly how awful it felt. I wouldn’t have been able to deny anyone helping me. I’d have let a viper go down on me to ease the pain, and here Dade is, putting himself through it without any help. Any relief.

Frustrated tears roll down my face at how awful this is. When I needed him, he did what he had to do and now he’s denying me the chance to help him. I don’t want him to suffer. Even with everything that has happened between us, I can’t bear to see him like this.

It goes on for an unbearably long time. I grip the edge of the table, unable to look away as he thrashes around, growling.

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