“You don’t have to like me. In fact, I’m sure there’s no risk of that happening.”
“You’re right about that but I don’t want to put my dick in so foul a place so let’s start a list of rules. You can think of them as your commandments. Think you can remember them, or do we need to write them down? I noticed your brother didn’t bother enrolling you in any university program. I hope there’s not a cognitive problem.”
“Fuck. You.”
I dig my fingers in. “Thou. Shalt. Not. Swear.”
“Fuck. You. Asshole.” She matches my tone although her words come out slightly strange with me squeezing her cheeks like I am.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll fuck your asshole if you say it one more time. What do you think? You want to try me? Because I can guarantee two things.” I hold on up one finger. “One. You will not enjoy it.” I hold up the second. “Two. I will.”
She exhales through her nose keeping her lips sealed tight.
“Come on. Try me, Isabelle. Let’s make this a fun morning. Tell me to fuck off again. Go on.”
Nothing. Nothing but daggers shooting from her eyes.
“Just once? You’re not scared of me, are you?”
“I think you’ll look for any excuse to punish me and I’m not going to make it easy for you, Jericho St. James.”
I study her, ignoring the buzzing of my phone in my pocket. I smile, then lean my face close and kiss her full on the mouth, tasting her lips, the sweet musk of her pussy. Then the copper of blood as she opens her mouth and snaps her teeth shut over my lower lip, drawing blood and daring to meet my eyes as she does it.
I grin, kiss her deeper and when her teeth drop away, I take her lip between mine and tease it, play with it, but I don’t bite, not yet. Instead, I drag my bloody lip over her cheek, smear my blood like war paint on her beautiful face before dropping her arms and stepping away, watching as her legs give out at the unexpected release and she falls to hands and knees.
She looks up at me, face flushed, a smear of red across one cheek, breath short. She sits back on her heels. I like her like this. I’ll have her there tonight, I decide. On her knees. My cock down her throat. Choking on my come.
My phone buzzes again and I draw it out of my pocket, read the text. My brother. They’re waiting on me.
“I’m tempted to bend you over the bed and fuck you now, but it’ll have to wait. Do try to keep your hands out of your pants until I’m back.”
Her mouth falls open as if she’s offended.
I walk to the door, unlock it, but turn back to her before I open it. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I know from the look on her face she’s screaming every foul word she knows at me, but she’s smart. She knows I’m not screwing around. I will fuck her in the ass to punish her and she’s clever enough to know that is not a punishment she wants to earn.
“See how well this is working already?” I ask her.
She gets to her feet, picks up the first thing she can reach, which happens to be the lamp on the nightstand, tugs it so hard that the plug comes out of the wall socket, and she hurls it at me. Her aim is shit and she misses. It crashes against the wall, and I can’t help but laugh.
But my phone buzzes again. I need to get downstairs. So, I put a stern look on my face and turn back to her. When I take one step toward her, she backs up three.
“That was an antique,” I pause. “Get it cleaned up. We can decide how you’re going to pay me for the damage tonight.” I open the door, purposely crunching glass under my shoe before I step out into the hallway. I turn back to her. “And it bears repeating. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Drop dead, Jericho St. James. Just drop dead.”
I close the door and walk away with a smile on my face because this has just shaped up to be a hundred times more fun than I imagined.
12
Isabelle
I glare after him while buttoning my clothes. I swear it feels like his hand is still on my skin. Inside my panties. Rough fingers rubbing my clit.
Me liking the sensation.
Me fucking liking it!
“Fuck you, Jericho St. James,” I say, my face hot with humiliation as I tuck my shirt back into my jeans and go into the bathroom to wash my face. I can’t help but catch a glimpse of my reflection, though. The streak of blood smeared across my cheek. His blood.
I stop. Look straight at myself.
His blood.
He bleeds. He’s human.
Which means I can hurt him.
I press a finger through the red streak. I did this. I bled him. And I don’t know what he expected in taking me, but this will not be a one-way street. I will hurt him back every time he hurts me. I will not just take it. He’s a bully. A kidnapper. Probably more and worse things.
But then I see Angelique’s little face at the breakfast table. Her well-loved bear in her lap, two fingers rubbing the ear as she stared at me like she’d never seen anyone outside of her family before. And I see his face as he watched her. As he tucked her hair behind her ear with the gentlest touch of those giant, menacing hands. As he kissed the top of her head.
This is like two different men.
Her father.
My devil.
I shake my head, adjusting the water as hot as I can stand it in the sink and scrub my face. I tell myself how much I hate that he touched me. That he laid his hands on me. I don’t remind myself the point he was trying to make. The point he proved. And I quash the thought that I enjoyed it because I did not.
I switch off the water and grab a towel to roughly dry my face. I glance to the clock on the bedside table. It’s a little after nine in the morning.
My toiletry bag is here on the counter. I rifle through it, grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste to brush my teeth as I search through the drawers beneath the sink. I find my razors, tampons, shampoo, and conditioner. Everything from my bathroom at home. Well, most things. My scissors are missing. Probably doesn’t want to take a chance I’ll stab him.
I switch off the electric toothbrush and rinse, then dry my hands again and hunt through my makeup bag. There I find the little plastic package of birth control pills. Carlton made sure I was on them as soon as I moved into his house even though I told him there was no need. Now I wonder if there’s going to be a need. I pop the next pill in the cycle, swallow it with a handful of water. I’ve always been lax about taking them, but now I’ll make a point to do it right. Because I know what just happened is only a prelude. I have no doubt Jericho St. James plans on having me in his bed.
I return to the bedroom and take a quick look inside the small interior pocket of my backpack to confirm two more sets of pills are still there. I always get them from the pharmacy in three-month increments.
After zipping the pocket, I look out the window. I must be at the back of the house and from what I can see, the large garden is bordered by dense woods surrounded by a wall that seems to go on for miles. There are a few areas where the trees thin out and far to the east of the house, I see what appears to be a crumbling stone structure. Or maybe it was once a structure. It’s too distant to tell from here. I don’t see the house on the other side of that wall. Only more trees. The Bishop and St. James properties stand back-to-back, a wall the dividing line between them. This place is like a fortress. Why does he need a fortress?