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Closing my eyes, I drop my head and breathe steadily. I jolt when her hands slide up my arms to rest on my shoulders and her body melts into mine.
"What are you doing, Aelia?" I ask even as I grip her hips.
"I want to thank you."
"Watching you come was thanks enough. Plus, as much as I want you to ride my cock, angel, you're not ready."
She blushes, pushing away from me. I let her go, though I want nothing more than to hold her for as long as I can. Before she turns her head, I catch a fleeting look of regret on her face and understanding flows through me. Grabbing her wrist, I stop her from spinning away from me. She shouldn't hide herself away.
"Seeking pleasure isn't a bad thing, Aelia. Asking for more isn't either."
She huffs as she looks up, cheeks still flushed from pleasure. Or maybe she's embarrassed.
"Fuck you, Dante," she snarls, and I drop her hand.
Definitely not embarrassed. Clearly pissed. I lean against the door, crossing my arms. If she wants to yell at me, so be it, though this might not be the best place to do it. The crowd might drown out a lot, but if she's starts screaming, someone is sure to come wandering by.
They'll probably assume they're in for a good show since all the men in the VIP area are a bunch of sick fucks. Once close enough to hear whatever she yells, though, and we'll be fucked.
"Perhaps you should save the tirade for when we're back at headquarters. In a soundproof room."
Her mouth drops open and she stumbles back. I run over my words in my mind, wondering what I could have possibly said to elicit her response. She glances away, chest stuttering in an attempt to even out her breath.
"I didn't realize that's where you thought your lessonwas headed." Fear laces her tone, though there's a bite behind it.
"Fuck, Aelia. I meant when a bunch of fuckers couldn't overhear you." I sweep out my hand, gesturing toward the door. "For fuck's sake, I have no intention of using one of those rooms with you."
"Tirade," she whispers. "You said tirade, and all I heard was soundproof room."
I sigh, running my hands through my hair. "This isn't going to be easy."
"I shouldn't have...I don't...goddammit. I fucking hate this. I hate feeling like this. I hate that I'm trapped here. I hate that you're stuck with me, like some fucked-up white knight who has a savior complex. I fucking hate this." She's panting by the time she's done, tears falling down her face.
I gather her in my arms as she chokes back a sob, murmuring, "Me too. I hate that you're stuck here. I hate that we have to do this. And I really fucking hate that I can't fix this."
"Fix me, you mean."
"You're a lot less broken than you think, Aelia. And I'll take as long as you need to prove that to you."
Eighteen
Aelia
Two showers in a day seems like an appropriate amount. Three feels excessive.
I've taken five. I don't know what that says about me. It's literally the only thing to do. I tried looking out the window and counting the trees far in the distance, but that got boring. So did staring at the ceiling. I can't exactly have a dance party, though that's what Ember and I used to do to pass the time. I haven't danced for fun in a long time. I ended up wallowing in self-pity for my lost youth, my lost best friend, my dead brother. Everything crashed into me at once.
That was around the time I took the third shower. The first two were just to pass the time since there's nothing to fucking do in this room. The last two excursions into the bathroom were to convince myself it was boredom sending me in there and not anxiety. I didn't even bother to brush my hair the last time I washed up, which will probably bite me in the ass later.
Last night was nothing like what I thought it would be. I can't bring myself to regret it, though. Dante and I never got to talk about what happened, not that I would have been able to. My emotions have been all over the place, ranging from embarrassment to giddiness. I may have been collared, but I gained some semblance of control. I took matters into my own hands, or rather Dante's fingers, and did something that would make me feel good. It's been so long since I've chosen me that I didn't know what to do in the aftermath.
The choice to have a conversation was ripped from me when Jenkins summoned Dante as soon as we returned. At least Dante insisted on escorting me back to the bedroom, making me promise I wouldn't open the door for anyone but him.
That was at least twenty-four hours ago. I tried to stay awake until he returned, but eventually sleep took hold. I slept on the floor since the bed was too soft, too big, too empty. My body apparently got used to the comfort since my back is aching today. Couple that with my grumbling stomach and I'm in a piss-poor mood.
I'm used to going hungry, but since Dante came, he's been ordering all sorts of foods I haven't had in years. Last week, I almost passed out when he brought me a cheeseburger. Now I'm cursing him. He's the reason my stomach is trying to eat itself.
"Where the hell are you, Dante?" I mutter at the door as if he'll pop through holding a croissant.
