Holy—fucking—shit.
Chapter Five
Mira’s eyes widen so quickly, it looks like they might bulge out of her skull like a cartoon character. Her breath catches, pushing the subtle mounds of her breasts against the fabric of her shirt. I glance down at the tear exposing her belly, thinking about how easy it would be to grab the fabric and rip, splitting it all the way up. I wonder what color bra she’s wearing, and what kind of noises she’d make when I taste her nipples. Moans? Whines? Whimpers? Words spoken in her smoky, raspy, sex-and-sin voice?
“Um…” she trails off, blinking rapidly. I don’t think I’ve yet seen her rendered speechless. On second thought, I have, but it was when she was fearful for her life. I think she’s still half-fearful that she won’t make it out of this alive, but part of her also believes me when I tell her that I won’t hurt orkill her, allow the others to, or give an order for someone else to.
I like the blush that rushes to her cheeks, staining them a pretty red. I like how her gaze lowers as if she’s embarrassed. I think I might like everything about her—she’s gorgeous, intriguing, fascinating, intuitive, and very clever. Brave, too, and bravery has always been a turn-on for me.
“I… am not going to have sex with you,” she finally says, staring at the TV.
“You are,” I disagree. “Eventually, you are. Preferably sooner rather than later. I can read people pretty fucking well, too, Mira. Iknowyou’re interested in me. But,” I shrug, “you’re also scared and unnerved. We can wait for that to pass until desire is the most prominent thing you feel.”
“I amnotgoing to have sex with you,” she repeats more firmly, lips thinning. She sets her sprite down on the coffee table and folds her hands in her lap, curling her fingers so tightly her knuckles turn white. She’s less embarrassed and moreworriednow, which makes my brows furrow with contemplation.
I didn’t dig into Mira very far when I did my research on her; I only know about her life at Greywood, nothing before or after.
“Look at me,” I say, quietly. She exhales, then slowly cranes her neck to the side, meeting my gaze. Her body remains facing forward, her posture stiff. There’s something panicked in her eyes that Ireallydon’t like. I’m not a rapist, I’m not someone who willeverget off on forcing women. I have my fair share of kinks and taboo enjoyments, but desire onbothsides is a must for me, otherwise I don’t have any interest.
Mira’s gaze holds no desire now, only deep-seated wariness and flighty panic. She has the same look she did in the forest, when she was pinned beneath me. I can only think of two reasons for her nerves: one, she has no experience; two, she has a sour experience. Too many women have to suffer the latter in this day and age.
“Have you had sex before?” I question, sipping at my Moscow Mule.
Her brows furrow. “Yeah. I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex a few times.”
I incline my head. “Did someone… hurt you during it? Or force you?” Even the words leave a bitter taste on my tongue.
Her frown deepens as she regards me, then her expression smooths out. “No, I’ve never been forced or hurt duringthat.” The way she saysit makes me believe she has been hurt in other ways, which tracks. Her tolerance for pain can shame some of the toughest motherfuckers I know, and her calmness in the face of death, along with her indication that she’s faced life-or-death scenarios before, is telling.
“Have you enjoyed your other times?” I go on.
She rolls her eyes. “Why are we talking about this? I’m not going to sleep with you. It doesn’t feel appropriate for us to even be having this conversation.”
Shewillsleep with me—as soon as tonight. More, she’ll have sex with me, and she’s gonna get fucked by me. I won’t have to force, merely coax. I’ve sensed her desire and openness to me more than once tonight.
“Answer my question,” I tell her.
“Why?”
I sigh. She has an almost childish way of askingwhyfrequently, but I don’t think it’s because she’s trying to be annoying; I think it’s because she’s trying to puzzle things out, make them click in her mind. She might be alarmingly intuitive, but I get the sense she’s also perplexed by people.
“Because I want to know.”
“Okay, but why?” she presses.
“Because we are going to fuck eventually, pretty girl. You might hate yourself for it, but you’re into me. You want me. That isn’t a question; it’s a statement of fact. Again, you’re not the only one good at reading people.”
She tilts her head to the side as she considers me. Her body shifts to face me, shoulders turning in my direction. Another subtle sign of her interest.
“Huh,” she says.
“Have you enjoyed sex in the past?” I ask again, prompting her.
She shrugs. “Not really. It wasn’t bad or forceful or anything, it just didn’t feel good emotionally, which meant it couldn’t feel good physically. It was never aboutme, it was about a guy taking what he wanted with little regard for how I felt, and I didn’t enjoy feeling like a warm hole for someone to get off in. I tried a few times with a few different people, curious to see what all the hype was about, and it never worked for me. Those times were moments I hated my intuition the most, because maybe if Ididn’thave such a good sense for people, I might’ve had a good time. I didn’t, though, so I decided I just didn’t like it and moved on.” A faint smile pulls on her lips, but it’s withdrawn and melancholy. “I see what desire does to this world. I feel how the wants of men muddles their minds. And when I truly think about it, I’m pretty glad that I have no part in it. It’s freeing.”
Ah. Mira thinks she’s above the basest of instincts because she’s never had aman—not boy—focus on her during the act. That will not be a problem with me. She’ll be the center of my attention.
I live in a house with dominant guys. Connor is the type to spank a girl’s ass until she’s sobbing for mercy, then squeeze it while he’s fucking her—sadist through and through. He needs to deliver pain to really get his blood rushing. Seamus, on the other hand, likes scenes of all kinds—tying a girl up any number of ways and playing with her however he feels like in the moment. It changes from person to person and scene to scene. He leaves his bedroom door open, enjoys other people watching him work, so I’ve witnessed him do a whole range of shit with girls. I think the thing that really getshimoff is begging.
