“Y-yes,” she stutters, her voice shaky like she is crying. A normal person would be bothered by her distress. I’m not normal. I’m depraved, twisted, and sick. Her pain is my joy, and her tears make me grin.
After a few more erratic thrusts, the familiar tingle begins in the base of my spine. A moment later, my balls tighten, and I paint her asshole with my cum. My orgasm seems to go on forever, and by the time it stops, I collapse on top of her.
Slowly, I come back down to earth. Sweat is beading on my forehead and dripping onto her shoulder. My chest is heaving, and my heart is slamming against my rib cage, but Rowan is beneath me completely still.
I push myself up and sit back on my knees so I can take a look at her. She still doesn’t move. Her legs are spread, giving me the perfect view of my cum dripping down her asshole onto her cunt. Christ, she is perfect.
Tucking away my still sensitive dick, I kneel beside her and roll her over. Her eyes are red from crying, which is a stark contrast to the black streaks of mascara running down the side of her face. The skirt is bunched up around her waist, and her torn-off panties are next to her in shreds.
With glossy eyes, she stares back at me. She doesn’t say anything, but there is a question in her eyes, like she wants to know what I’m going to do next.
What am I doing next? I don’t fucking know. Simply leaving doesn’t feel right.
Still not sure what I’m doing, I slide my arms under her body and pick her up from the floor. Her own arms come to my shoulders, gripping on to me like she fears I’ll drop her.
Her apartment is small, and there is only one other door besides the one leading to the hallway so that one has to be her bedroom. I walk inside, confirming it is by the twin-sized bed pushed against the wall.
Gently, I put her down on the mattress before finding my way to the bathroom. I take a washcloth from the cabinet and run hot water over it. By the time I return to the bed, the washcloth has cooled off, and I use it to clean her face. She closes her eyes and actually leans into my touch as I carefully wipe her skin.
Now that I have whipped away the mascara, I notice how her right cheek is an angry red. It was the one I was pressing down into the scratchy carpet, and a ping of guilt hits me. I hate leaving marks. The irony is not lost on me. I don’t care if I hurt her, I crave it even, but I don’t like there to be marks. It doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to leave evidence either. I simply don’t like marred skin.
When her face is done, I go back to the bathroom and repeat the process with the washcloth. Only this time, I clean between her legs. She winces at my touch but doesn’t push me away or tell me to stop. The words,good girlare on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow the praise down simply because I enjoy the silence between us. There is no need to explain anything. She knows the kind of monster I am, and I know why she is letting me do this to her.
I help her out of her skirt and blouse before I cover her up with the thin comforter from the foot of her bed. Standing up, I take one last look around the small room, trying to shake how much I hate it that she lives here.
Before I can say something stupid, like you should live with me, I bend down and give her a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Two down, two to go.”
Chapter 9
Rowan
I really wish I could get a handle on this guy.
And I really wish I understood why I want to get a handle on him at all. This is a temporary arrangement. There doesn’t have to be anything more to it than that. Like he said, two down. Two to go. And once that’s over, we’re finished. There doesn’t have to be anything more than that—and there shouldn’t be. I have no business in his world, no business with him.
It would be a lot easier to keep that in mind if he wasn’t so unpredictable. One minute, he’s practically throwing me around, treating me like a thing. An object. Something without any real feelings or thoughts. Like I’m only here for him, for his sake, for his pleasure.
Then he goes and tucks me in with a kiss on my forehead. I’ve never felt so cared for. My brain is screwing with me, is all. I’m so used to being treated like shit that the slightest little kindness has me all confused.
It would’ve been easier to wrap my head around last night if he had left me the way I was, on the floor, trying to pull my mind and my body together after what he did. Considering how he treated me, how rough and almost brutal he was, to leave me on the floor without a backward glance would make sense. I could understand that. There wouldn’t be any questions this morning.
I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than what he shows the world. Because for a minute there, he was tender. Sweet and gentle. He treated me like I was more than a few holes for him to fill. Like I mattered.
I’m not an idiot, though. I’m not about to pretend there’s more to us than a business arrangement. He’s getting what he paid for, and that’s it. And if anything,I should be grateful for his consideration. Something tells me that psychopath at the club with the knife wouldn’t be so considerate.
Just the thought of that wack job is enough to get me out of bed. A hot shower helps relax muscles I strained during all that fighting last night. It’s a good thing this is a temporary arrangement, or else I would be walking around with a heating pad all the time.
Even after that, after I fix a little breakfast and some coffee, I can’t get Lucian out of my head. I can’t stop looking toward the bedroom, remembering everything.
That’s it. I can’t stay here all day, going crazy. After washing up the breakfast dishes, I decide to get dressed and go out. It’s times like this when I feel the absence of friends. Other girls, especially. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do, go shopping together? Granted, I never did like shopping with anybody else. I loved spending time with Eve, but shopping wasn’t included in that. Her coming from a rich family was never more apparent than in the times we spent at the mall. When you grow up without any money, every purchase takes consideration. It’s a habit I’ve never been able to break. I doubt I ever will.
Nobody has patience for that kind of thing if they don’t understand how it feels. When a shopping trip isn’t just something you do for fun on a Saturday afternoon. On top of that, I hate standing around, waiting for other people to make up their minds. It bores me. I would rather shop by myself, even if I can’t help but feel a little jealous of the girls walking together in groups at the mall.
The grass is always greener, right?
I can’t help but be tempted by the aroma of cinnamon and sugar as I walk past the Cinnabon stand. Maybe I’ll stop by later before I leave. It’s been ages since I’ve had one of those completely addictive treats. There are girls who look to be around my age hanging around the coffee stand, where a pair of cute college-age guys are working. They might as well live on another planet. They’re so different from me.
What would they think if they knew about the club only a handful of miles from here? I have to bite back a smile. None of them would guess what I’ve seen, what I’ve done.
