The soap was gone.
And he was laughing.
Shame and embarrassment flushed my face, my cheeks growing hot. I tried to push his arms away from me, but the bathtub was too small and he was too big, his too-large body trapping my tiny one within his grasp. It was just a game to him. A stupid fucking game!
“Get off of me.”
“Sit still,” he ordered, and when I ignored him and continued to fight he reached up and ran his hand between my breasts, making me freeze. “I said, sit still.”
“I hate you,” I sniffled, trying to hold back my bitter tears.
“I get that a lot.”
We sat together in silence, the warm water cocooning us. One of his large arms was wrapped around my waist and the other one trailed lazy patterns over the tops of my thighs. I forced myself to ignore him—ignore his hands and his touch and the way my body felt electrified with him so close.
I truly hated him. With every breath I took, I hated him more.
“You’re gonna burn holes into the wall if you don’t stop glaring at it,” he rumbled.
“Should I stare at you then? Burn holes into your face instead?”
He chuckled darkly, and I hated that too.
Everything he did annoyed me, making my rage and shame and hate burn brighter and stronger.
“Why are you doing this?” I gritted out.
He sighed like it was the most boring question on earth, and I lapsed back into silence for a moment. He didn’t like my question, so maybe I was asking the wrong questions. I changed my tactics.
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked. I didn’t think he would answer me, so I was surprised when he did. I was even more surprised by his answer.
“If I have to.”
I gasped, a hand going up to cover my mouth in a pathetic attempt to hide my own shock. Why I’d ever thought he wouldn’t kill me, I don’t know. He’d done nothing but be cruel and fuck with my head since taking me. His one small act of kindness, running me a bath and giving me medicine for my head, had been ruined by him hurting me and touching me when I didn’t want him to.
No, that was a lie.
I hadn’t wanted him to, but then I had. His touch had become a drug and I’d wanted a hit of it—of him. I’d wanted the high that his fingers were offering. I’d wanted him to be kind, to make me feel something other than the pain and loneliness I’d come to befriend so well. I was pathetic.
He kissed the top of my head and tears leaked out of my eyes.
“Did you forget where you were, darlin’?” he drolled.
I shook my head no, my tears trailing blazes down my cheeks.
“Then tell me,” he gritted. One of his large hands came around to grab my face and he cruelly tipped my chin up to him. “Tell me where you are, Penny,” he ordered.
I sniffled, despising that he’d broken me. “Hell,” I replied through gritted teeth. The piece of black cloth covering his mouth twitched, telling me that he was smiling beneath it. I had pleased him and my stomach flipped at that thought.
“Good girl,” he said, and turned my face away from him. “Now quit your crying and relax.”
“What’s happening?” I asked, frightened by the answer I might get.
“The Devil seduced you,” he replied. “And now he owns you.”
I hated that he was right.
“He owns this,” he grunted, his palm rubbing over the sensitive flesh of my pussy and making me gasp and whimper, my needy body pulsing against his hand.
