Marta walks in, carrying a tray with a silver coffee pot.
"Dessert, sir?" she asks, her voice perfectly even.
She sees us. She has to. She sees me sitting on his lap, my face buried in his neck, my gown hiked up. She can probably see the movement of his arm.
Shame, hot and bright, explodes in my chest.
"Silas, stop," I beg in a tiny whisper.
He doesn't stop. He speeds up.
"Leave it on the sideboard, Marta," Silas says calmly, his voice steady, betraying nothing. "That will be all for tonight."
"Very good, sir."
Marta sets the tray down. The china clinks. She walks back to the door.
Every second she is in the room feels like an hour. Silas’s fingers are relentless. He is forcing me to the edge right in front of her.
The door swings shut.
"She’s gone," Silas says. "Now let go."
He twists his hand, hitting that spot that makes my toes curl.
I can't hold it back. The fear, the shame, the arousal—it all collides in a massive wave of release.
I cry out, a sharp, broken sound that echoes in the large room. My body convulses in his arms, trembling violently. I cling to him because I have no choice. If he let go, I would fall.
He holds me through it, his hand slowing but not stopping, milking the last of the pleasure from me.
When I finally settle, limp and gasping, he withdraws his hand.
He wipes his fingers on the white linen napkin. The gesture is so casual, so domestic, it makes me want to scream.
He picks up the wine glass and holds it to my lips.
"Drink."
I take a sip. The wine is heavy, oaky. It grounds me.
Silas brushes the hair back from my damp forehead. He looks satisfied. Smug.
"You see?" he says softly. "Your mother may have left you, Ivy. But I never will. I’m the only one who knows how to take care of you."
He stands up, lifting me with him.
"Now," he says, carrying me toward the stairs. "You’ve had your dinner. It’s time for bed."
I rest my head against his shoulder, too exhausted to fight.
He’s right. My mother left. My father sold me.
Silas is the monster in the dark. But tonight, in this terrifying, twisted way... he fed me.
And God help me, I’m still hungry.
CHAPTER 12
