trapping them there for the time being. I still have to keep the fabric taut, but she's easier to control, utterly powerless before me.
“Is this what you want, Rachael? Tell me the goddamn safe word.”
I trace the fingers in my free hand down her chest, and twist her nipple as viciously as I can. She yells in surprise, and when she meets my eyes, for a moment there's nothing but malice in their murky blue-green depths. Not even the malice of a woman who fears being raped. It's deeper than that; it practically burns me. If I believed in demons, I'd believe her possessed. I pick up the knife again, putting the flat of the blade against her chest, cold metal against warm skin.
“Who are you? Why have you been lying?”
She yells, most of the way to a scream, but Allen seems to have taken up residence in the highest of the catwalks, where he'll never hear her. Thank fuck. If he comes to investigate, I'm not gonna be able to explain this to him. Not with her under me, naked and bleeding.
She plants her feet on the ground, and arches, trying to buck me off her hips. All it does is jars my sore calves when they collide with the ground as she gives way beneath my weight.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Rachael.” I can't call her Milla. I just can't . It becomes real the moment I do. Her tears, that perfect skin I dreamed about for so long, marred with blood and bruising... I have to believe that she truly is Rachael crying for mercy, not the caring, tough-as-nails woman I've grown to need like oxygen.
“ Please , Calder,” she sobs brokenly. “Why're you hurting me?”
I press the knife to her throat a little harder, begging her to put an end to this, begging her to just give in , acknowledge everything. But beyond the tears, and the sniffles, and the fighting, her eyes are fixed on me, and that demon is still lurking in their depths. She's waiting for me to fail, knowing I'll fail.
And that's what gives me the courage to go through with it, climbing between her legs to wedge them apart, one hand reaching for my cock, trying to remind myself of every other time I was only too happy to sink into her. Our eyes meet for a frightened second— will I or won't I? Will she or won't she?— but her eyes are completely devoid of tears, the glassy sheen gone. Her sobs intensify, and warm liquid spurts against my knees, running along the smooth metal floor.
Shit . A moment of panic overwhelms me, and my grip on her hands falters. She doesn't lose a second in punching me and crawling away, toward the opening. I seize her knees and drag her back, putting one knee on her shoulders, and the other on her leg until I can gather her hands behind her back and wrap them in the shirt again.
“You're not convincing me, Rachael. You know the word. You know how to end this. Tell me the truth .”
“ Stop calling me Rachael ,” she screams, the noise echoing eerily in our confined prison. It rings in my ears, and permeates my soul with her pain. At least that part is real.
“So your name is Milla, then. Why did you lie?”
She jerks her hands against the restraints, and one of her feet kicks against my ass as she tries to wiggle free, unsuccessfully. I press her face into the floor with only a moment of regret that her nose is in front of her own wet spot. “I don't know what you're talking about! Why are you doing this—” The words lapse into more frenzied sobs, but again, there's no tears in her eyes. She's trying to stay calm, but doesn't want me to know how in control she is.
I lean my forearm across her shoulders, and her breaths wheeze tighter in her lungs. Once again, I kick her knees apart, trying not to think that the soft flesh I'm about to abuse was once wrapped around me affectionately, maybe even lovingly . She screams again, wordlessly, as I fight to get my cock hard enough to make our battle cross that last line, the one she obviously believes I won't.
I can't tell myself the same teasing,
“Is this what you want, Rachael? Tell me the goddamn safe word.”
I trace the fingers in my free hand down her chest, and twist her nipple as viciously as I can. She yells in surprise, and when she meets my eyes, for a moment there's nothing but malice in their murky blue-green depths. Not even the malice of a woman who fears being raped. It's deeper than that; it practically burns me. If I believed in demons, I'd believe her possessed. I pick up the knife again, putting the flat of the blade against her chest, cold metal against warm skin.
“Who are you? Why have you been lying?”
She yells, most of the way to a scream, but Allen seems to have taken up residence in the highest of the catwalks, where he'll never hear her. Thank fuck. If he comes to investigate, I'm not gonna be able to explain this to him. Not with her under me, naked and bleeding.
She plants her feet on the ground, and arches, trying to buck me off her hips. All it does is jars my sore calves when they collide with the ground as she gives way beneath my weight.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Rachael.” I can't call her Milla. I just can't . It becomes real the moment I do. Her tears, that perfect skin I dreamed about for so long, marred with blood and bruising... I have to believe that she truly is Rachael crying for mercy, not the caring, tough-as-nails woman I've grown to need like oxygen.
“ Please , Calder,” she sobs brokenly. “Why're you hurting me?”
I press the knife to her throat a little harder, begging her to put an end to this, begging her to just give in , acknowledge everything. But beyond the tears, and the sniffles, and the fighting, her eyes are fixed on me, and that demon is still lurking in their depths. She's waiting for me to fail, knowing I'll fail.
And that's what gives me the courage to go through with it, climbing between her legs to wedge them apart, one hand reaching for my cock, trying to remind myself of every other time I was only too happy to sink into her. Our eyes meet for a frightened second— will I or won't I? Will she or won't she?— but her eyes are completely devoid of tears, the glassy sheen gone. Her sobs intensify, and warm liquid spurts against my knees, running along the smooth metal floor.
Shit . A moment of panic overwhelms me, and my grip on her hands falters. She doesn't lose a second in punching me and crawling away, toward the opening. I seize her knees and drag her back, putting one knee on her shoulders, and the other on her leg until I can gather her hands behind her back and wrap them in the shirt again.
“You're not convincing me, Rachael. You know the word. You know how to end this. Tell me the truth .”
“ Stop calling me Rachael ,” she screams, the noise echoing eerily in our confined prison. It rings in my ears, and permeates my soul with her pain. At least that part is real.
“So your name is Milla, then. Why did you lie?”
She jerks her hands against the restraints, and one of her feet kicks against my ass as she tries to wiggle free, unsuccessfully. I press her face into the floor with only a moment of regret that her nose is in front of her own wet spot. “I don't know what you're talking about! Why are you doing this—” The words lapse into more frenzied sobs, but again, there's no tears in her eyes. She's trying to stay calm, but doesn't want me to know how in control she is.
I lean my forearm across her shoulders, and her breaths wheeze tighter in her lungs. Once again, I kick her knees apart, trying not to think that the soft flesh I'm about to abuse was once wrapped around me affectionately, maybe even lovingly . She screams again, wordlessly, as I fight to get my cock hard enough to make our battle cross that last line, the one she obviously believes I won't.
I can't tell myself the same teasing,
Similar Books
