Carter
She hasn’t eaten, she’s barely moved since she gave in last night. I’ve come in twice since then and both times she’s denied me even though in three days all she’s eaten is a handful of fruit.
I can feel the tension between us. I know she’s at war with it as much as I am. But she spends her nights screaming and barely sleeping. The little bit of progress during the day is erased and there’s nothing I can do about it.
She’s going to cave again and I can feel it on the horizon. I’ve never been so eager to come into this cell as I am today.
I have to hide my smile as she slinks from the mattress to the floor. She never stays on the mattress when I come in. At least, she hasn’t yet.
My heart beats hard as I watch her expression fall. There’s no tray tonight. No offering for her.
It’s easy to see her breathing pick up as she registers I’m here for something else.
I intentionally let the chair drag along the floor as I make my way to
her.
“I don’t have anything to say,” she tells me as I sit down only a few feet
away from her. Far enough so that she can crawl to me and kneel. The crawling part I’m not interested in. She decided to do that on her own, but I don’t care how I get her on her knees in front of me. So long as she submits.
“That’s interesting that you would start the conversation then, isn’t it?” She doesn’t respond. Her collarbone looks more prominent today than it ever has. I couldn’t see it on the monitors, but three days of barely eating is starting to show and I don’t like it. Starved is not how I want her.
I should feel remorse, not anger at the observation.
“Why make it harder on yourself?” I question her with a deep tone of disapproval.
And once again, she doesn’t answer.
“You’ll cave again. You can’t help yourself. You realize that, don’t you?” She’s a smart girl. Anyone with any bit of intelligence knows that starvation is painful, and the instinct to survive will kick in over pride.
“Just let me go,” she says weakly, brushing under her eyes and hiding the tears. So close to breaking. So, fucking close.
“I’m getting tired of hearing you make that request.”
“Then both of us are tired,” she says softly, picking at her dirty clothes.
I would give her everything if only she’d obey me.
“You wanted me,” I remind her, and she huffs a pathetic sound of disgust.
Her eyes narrow as she looks me in the eyes and tells me, ”You aren’t what I want.”
“What did you want then?” I ask her, leaning forward in my seat so quickly that I startle her. I’m only inches away and so close I can feel the heat from her body. She turns away from me, looking toward nothingness on the blank wall.
“Answer me,” I say and there’s little patience in my voice. My body tenses as I move forward in my seat so I’m as close to her as I can be. I don’t like what she does to me, but even more, I don’t like that I don’t know what to do with her. I don’t want her like this. I need her to break now, her mind before her body.
She looks at me with a stare of contempt before barely speaking the words, “I don’t know what I wanted.”
“You wanted me to fuck you,” I tell her in a voice intended to be seductive. I practically whisper. “I’d feed you, care for you, fuck you and put you to bed used and sated.” She’s silent as I move back to a relaxed position in the uncomfortable chair. “That’s what you wanted.”
“I just wanted my fucking notebook back!” she screams at me with a bite of anger I know must’ve hurt. Swallowing thickly, she looks away from
me as her eyes turn glossy.
My heart pounds hard, just once, then stops for a moment as she wipes her eyes.
“You want a notebook?” I ask her, although I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.
Her chest rises and falls steadily as she looks at me. Each breath deepening the dip in her collarbone. “Tell me,” I command her.
“My drawing pad,” she murmurs softly, anger and contempt forgotten. “That’s what led me to the bar where those assholes got me,” she whispers with defeat. “I just wanted my drawing pad back.”
“A specific one?” I ask as my brow raises slightly. It’s not going to happen. I can get her a new one, but I’m not risking what’s already been set in motion to find something she’s left behind.
“Yes,” she whispers and parts her lips to tell me something else, but I can’t and won’t hunt down any of her possessions.
“It’s gone,” I say flatly, cutting off her words.
I watch as she swallows and note the way the sadness returns to her eyes. “Any would do.” Her eyes search my face warily as she sits back against the bed, making it dip with her weight. She’s frail with a look of submission brimming close to the surface.
“A drawing pad. What else do you want?” My fingers itch to trace along her jaw and force her to look at me. To force her to make this easier on herself and both of us.
She peeks up at me through only slits, her dark lashes barely letting me see any of her eyes. But in the small bit she offers me, I see nothing but rage.
“You have something to say?” “Fuck you,” she spits.
I’ve never felt the urge to kiss her until now. In filthy clothes and all. It’s quiet between us as I imagine gripping the nape of her neck and taking her lips with mine. She’d bite me. I know she would because she thinks she should, and that only makes me harder.
“That mouth of yours. That’s what’s going to get you into trouble.”
“As if I’m not in trouble already,” she answers me through clenched teeth, lifting her chin at me.
“You will be if you don’t obey me.” Each word comes out heavy, making my chest clench with a tightness of what’s to come. My breathing is
shallow, and my blood burns a little hotter.
I can see her lips twitch with the need to speak, but she bites her tongue.
This is the version of Aria that I want. The raw anger of knowing and accepting that she’s at my mercy.
“Tell me what you really think, Aria,” I say softly, though the words echo loudly in my ears. My gaze locks onto hers, and the rush of blood in my ears drowns out everything else. All I can do is wait for her response.
One beat. Two beats of my heart before she whispers in a broken voice, “You’re a monster.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because of what you want from me,” she says quietly, but she doesn’t break eye contact.
“What is it that I want from you?” I ask, gripping the edge of the chair tighter.
“You want to fuck me.” She doesn’t hesitate, but the anger in her eyes shifts to pain as she tears her gaze away from mine.
“Of course I want to fuck you,” I reply, keeping my voice as calm as I can. My eyes trace her curves, and I have to force them back up to meet her doe eyes as she scoots farther back on the bed. She’s searching for safety, but all she’s doing is making me want to chase her.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “The moment I saw you, I wanted you.” My confession comes out as a whisper, and the memory of her from weeks after that night years ago flashes through my mind. I had to know the face of the angel who’d saved me. If only she’d known then what she was doing, if only she’d known I wasn’t worth saving. The hate and love I’ve harbored for her have warred within me for years.
Silence stretches between us. One moment. Then another.
“Just get it over with,” she breathes, not looking up. But the tone of defeat rings hollow.
“Is that because you want me too but don’t have the courage to admit it?” I challenge her, and her anger flares back full force.
“Fuck. You.” She leans forward as she spits out each word, her rage and defiance only fueling my desire to thrust deep inside her.
“You will, little songbird.” Lust courses through my veins as she inches back on the bed again, her gaze fixed beside me as if she’s tracking my every move but doesn’t want me to notice.
That only makes the smirk on my lips grow.
The chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, the sound making Aria flinch. She sits up straighter, stiffer, and watches me with wide eyes as I take two steps closer.
“You want to get it over with?” I ask as I reach for my belt, wanting her to see how hard I am for her. To teach her a lesson.
The belt slips through the loops of my pants, the sound of leather brushing against fabric filling the air. My blood pulses with adrenaline and lust as I watch her breathing quicken.
The buckle clinks as it hits the ground, and then I unzip my pants. A flush spreads up Aria’s chest and into her cheeks.
“Come here,” I command softly, gripping my erection through my pants. I see her lips part and her thighs clench as she watches.
Her wide eyes dart from my cock to my face.
“Come here,” I repeat when she doesn’t move. I know she wants me. Maybe not like this, but I need to show her the power she holds. Until she submits, all she has is power over me. “Get down on your knees in front of me,” I add, palming myself again. “Aria.” Her name comes out hard, laced with sin and desire. “I fucking want you.”
I don’t miss the small gasp that escapes her lips as she hesitates for another second. I watch every subtle change in her expression. From how her nails dig into the mattress, to how her body tenses, making the bed creak as she inches forward, as if she’s going to obey. She swallows so loudly I can hear it as she slowly climbs off the bed, standing on shaky legs before dropping onto her knees in front of me.
My pulse quickens, though I don’t know how. It feels like all the blood in my body is surging toward my dick.
“If I leaned down and shoved my hand between your thighs,” I ask, holding back a groan at the thought, “how wet and hot would your cunt feel right now?”
Her eyes widen, and she leans back, but seated as she is, with her knees beneath her, she can’t lean far without losing balance.
“Do you know what it will feel like when I finally shove myself deep inside your tight little cunt?” I ask as my dick pulses with need, and I have to stroke it once more.
She exhales heavily, almost violently, and avoids my gaze.
“You’re going to scream my name like your life depends on my mercy.” I stroke myself again and again. Fuck, I’m so desperate for her touch that my dick is throbbing, hard enough that it hurts. “But I won’t show you mercy, Aria. I’m going to fuck you like you’re mine to ruin.”
She whimpers, struggling to remain still in front of me. Her thighs clench as I kick the chair behind me, crouching down in front of her.
Her hazel eyes are wide, filled with desire.
“I want to give you everything,” I whisper, leaning forward, letting my lips brush along her jaw. A ripple of unease runs through me as I realize the truth in those words.
She shivers, and I watch her nails dig into her thighs. “You have to tell me what you want, and when I ask you how badly you want my cock, you better tell me the truth.”
I pull away, tracing my fingers down the right side of her face, then lower, to her neck and collarbone. Then to her chest. “I want to see how you react when I pinch and bite these,” I murmur, letting my fingers graze the peaks of her breasts.
“Do you think you’ll enjoy it?” I ask her. And for the first time, she admits a small truth, nodding once before ripping her eyes away from mine.
Her breathing is erratic, and I can see the shame in her expression.
“I desperately want to feel you cum on my cock,” I confess, whispering in her ear since she still has her head turned. “Tell me what you want.”
All I can hear is our tense breathing mingling in the hot air between us. “Tell me, songbird,” I say, willing her to give in.
Time stretches on, seemingly forever.
“A drawing pad.” Blinking away the haze in her eyes and still denying what she truly wants, she utters those useless words.
And I leave her just like that—wanting, panting, and flushed with need.
She’ll learn to ask for what she wants. Or she’ll stay here forever.
