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Chapter 14
How Pieter was steering us frightened me sometimes. I was still wrestling with it in my head when he obviously thought he had it sorted. He’d work that alpha dominant routine on me and I’d melt at his feet. So bloody disconcerting. Was I schizoid? The terrible things we did outside this little room of mine...of ours, were impacting on me. Even when I tried not to remember, they’d enter my head like a rude explosion. My fingers would be like ice, my heart sped up, my mind would grind to a halt while I relived terror.
Small things, like someone leaning on the door would make me jerk around and squeak. I was like a mouse.
I hated that. The scars on my mind must go so deep. How would I ever recover? It seemed impossible.
There was one thing that no matter how I turned it around seemed to spell doom. I didn’t want to ask Pieter for his opinion because if he agreed, it’d make it too real to bear. Besides, could I really trust him?
I fluffed the pillow into shape for the tenth time. The days in here forever see-sawed from boring to scary.
“You need a distraction. I have a good one. Bend over the bed and pull your dress up over your head so I can look at you.”
“Not now, Pieter.”
“Ja. Now.”
I protested, but I’d barely said the n in no when he pulled my hands behind my back and forced me over the bed. His knee squashed the edge of the mattress down then the first swat landed. It was hard enough to echo off the walls. I gasped, but dropped like a stone into that mind state where I desperately wanted to obey.
I knew this reaction well. It still stunned me.
It was three more hits before I could catch my breath and choke out, “I’m sorry.”
His grip on my wrists pressed in then he released me.
Without further prompting, I reached down and wriggled the dress up my body, baring myself.
“Spread your legs and tuck the dress over your head. I don’t want to see you look out. Understand, my sweet little disobedient meisie?” He punctuated that statement with one last forceful slap.
“Yes!” I blinked at the sheet before me and shivered. Meisie. The Afrikaans for girl did something to my head. The accent maybe? Who knew?
When he laid his hand on my back and pushed me deeper into the mattress, I bit the sheet to stifle my groan. When he laughed at my noise, I dampened between my legs.
I was beginning to look forward to him making me do things. I was sick. No matter what he said. I loved it. I hated it. I shut my eyes and waited.
For ages he seemed to stand behind me, then I heard him step closer and he pulled aside my ass cheeks. The grip hurt. Knowing he stared at my pussy was indescribably hot.
“Put your hands at your back and hold your wrist.”
I did so, drawing in an exultant breath when he growled approval. I was getting so wet he had to be seeing that too. As if to reinforce my thought, his finger drew a wavering line down my soaking wet seam then he thumbed apart my lips.
I shoved my mouth into the mattress and moaned quietly.
“Fok. Your hot klein poesie...”
Nothing more, but I could feel his stare and I trembled. What those words meant, I could guess. Arousal and submitting to him, they tumbled into one messy bewildering haze. I bit the sheet in frustration. I wanted, I needed, more of this. More of him making me. Just...making me.
When he’d had enough of looking and stroking, pinching and exposing me, like I was some pet project, he stripped off my dress and sat me on his lap. I curled up, my mind a little fuzzy. I sniffled and licked his chest. He said nothing, only touching me in a reassuring way, and I looked out at the twilight filtering through my window, wishing I could stay here with him surrounding me, forever.
He was so tender when like this, as if he needed the other before he could bring out his good side.
My question arrived and swirled around. Should I? With his chin resting on my head and his arms around me, I broke. My throat worked. Nothing came out then my question arrived almost before I knew I’d said it.
“What if I get pregnant?”
He stilled. “What?”
I guess he’d been off in his own thoughts.
