I stretch out my leg, and lay it over the outfit he has laid out for me. My eyes are drawn to the beautiful short dress. Don’t know why he laid it out. It’s not like I’ll be wearing it.
He wants to tempt me to wear it, that voice at the back of my head says. So he can have a reason to punish me when I don’t.
As if he needs a reason. He can do whatever he wants to me.
He owns me.
I can’t even lock my bedroom door.
I never have a moment a privacy.
That’s the part that my romance novels left out. The cold, harsh reality of never having a moment to yourself, never being able to do anything without approval. It was fun and games before, when I wasn’t angry at him. When I wanted it as much as he did. But it changed.
I hate that I even have to ask to work on my novel. But it’s not like he denies me that privilege. He always gives in when I ask. Somehow, that makes it more infuriating.
I wish I could be more pleased with him. Instead, I feel like I’m a spoiled pet throwing a tantrum.
I’m so confused.
My thoughts are swept away as I hear the soft creak of the bedroom door.
I hear him walk into the room but I only move my head just enough to peek at him. My breath catches at the sight. He looks handsome as usual, dressed in black dress pants and a white dress shirt opened at the chest. I don’t get off the bed to kneel or greet him. That’s why I know I won’t be wearing those clothes. I’m done playing. He can just throw me in the damn cage until he lets me go.
His eyes find my naked body and I blush fiercely, though I don’t know why. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. Looking at him, I’m feeling so many emotions, that I have to turn away, my chest heaving.
Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Lust.
They’re all there.
I startle slightly as I feel his arms encircle my waist. His hot lips find my neck and I find myself leaning back into him, my lips parting in a soft sigh, my nipples pebbling. I’ve missed his touch. My eyes close; he feels so good. My arm wraps around his, betraying me, but I don’t care. I just want to feel him for a moment. Just a moment.
“I know you’re still angry with me, Lilly,” he says softly in my hair, his breath hot on my neck. I can feel his big, hard cock pressing against my ass, and I desperately want him inside of me. Make love to me. Make me forget. Please, make me forget.
I wish he couldn’t read me so well. And I don’t want to really respond. But I know he’s expecting an answer.
“Yes sir,” I say softly, my words sounding a bit stiff. I’ve come to hate them. But I love saying them at the same time. I’m just one big walking contradiction.
He runs his hand down my stomach, and circles it around my pubic hair. “When you shower, make sure you shave.”
Anger swells up my throat and I swallow. I’m glad he can’t see me roll my eyes. He knows that I’ll shave, I just haven’t gotten a chance to take a shower yet. I think he just knows that I’m pissed and wants to make me even angrier. He wants to rule over me. Fuck him!
“You’re an asshole!” The words spew from my lips before I can stop them.
His arms leave my waist. I’m relieved and miss his touch all at the same time. I fucking hate how he makes me feel. “Why are you angry with me?” he asks, his voice even and low. Deadly.
I turn to face him, no longer able to hide the anger I feel. “You lied to me.”
Joseph clinches his jaw. “I already told you that I didn’t.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that? That man said you killed people. How do you explain that?”
“Lilly, I’m going to ask you not to talk about that. It has nothing to do with us.”
My jaw nearly drops as I stare at him with wide eyes. “Nothing to do?” I ask breathlessly, stabbing my finger into the mattress. “I’m a fucking slave to a murderer! That’s what I am! How do you think that makes me feel?”
Anger flashes in his eyes. I’ve really pissed him off by calling him a murderer.
He stares at me for a long moment, his chest heaving, the veins standing out on his neck. For a second, I think he’ll even strike me. Maybe I just want him to, so I can have a real reason to hate him or at least a reason not to love him. But his next words make my blood run cold.
“Go to your cage.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I snap it shut. It’s useless. This is what I wanted anyway.
Tears well up in my eyes, but I fight them back. I don’t know why I said anything. I should’ve known what would happen. All I needed to do was to shut the fuck up and keep counting the days until this was over.
I turn around, drop to my knees, and crawl inside my cage, hating him every second of the way.
He shuts the cage door before I’m even to the back of it. But he doesn’t lock it. He never does. I wish he would. My heart breaks as I hold back the sob.
I glare at him balefully, from in between the bars. He looks down at me with both pity and anger in his eyes. For some reason, it pisses me the fuck off, yet again.
“I’ll spend every fucking day here in this cage if it means I can get away from you,” I snarl with venom. I don’t know why I say the words. I know I don’t even mean it. But I can’t help myself.
I regret it the moment I say it though.
I wait for him to say something nasty in response, but he doesn’t. His face is an impassive mask, but his eyes are a storm of emotion. I’ve hurt him with my words, I can feel it. It hurts me to know that. I really shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m such a bitch. Looking at the swirl of emotion in his dark eyes makes me hate myself.
He was opening up to me, and now he’ll be closed off.
Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.
But I can’t bring myself to say anything. My throats closed off and the tears roll down my cheeks.
I don’t know why.
After a moment, his eyes heavy, Joseph turns and walks from the room, leaving me alone in my cage.
A feeling of guilt washes over me as soon as he’s gone, along with a wave of loneliness and I can’t stop the tears that are suddenly free falling down my face.
I really should be careful what I wish for.
Joseph
Her nails dig into my forearms scratching down my arms and leaving marks as I fuck her ruthlessly, claiming her once again. “Keep fighting me my flower.” I tell her as my hips buck into her and, the bed shakes beneath us.
It’s been three days since I been able to feel the warmth of her cunt wrapped around my dick. Not that she hasn’t wanted me, her anger seems to only intensify her desire. I stare into her eyes, and she stares back at me with the same fierceness. In this moment I don’t know who owns who.
She so close, I can see it on her face, but she’s yet to ask permission.
“Are you trying to cum before I allow you to?” I pull away from her, pulling out of her warmth and leaving her on the edge of her pleasure. I would have gladly given it to her, had only she asked. She breathes heavily, her blue eyes swirling with defiance.
The room fills with the sounds of our heavy breathing.
Hate fuck. Makeup sex. I’m not sure what this is, but I’m hopeful that once it’s over, she’ll forgive me. I want her to look at me the way she used to.