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At least he gets to celebrate the holiday. What will they do to me? Leave me tied up here, all alone on Christmas Day? None of this is my fault, but I’m the one who gets to suffer for it.
When the washcloth brushes over my breasts, everything else goes out the window. Heat blooms fresh in my core, making my pussy tingle with each brush over my nipples. He’s not washing anymore. He’s massaging, his eyes fixed on my body. He strums a thumb over my nipple, and I bite back a moan. This shouldn’t turn me on like it does. Everything about this is wrong.
But how does he know just what to do? The slightest touch and everything I thought I knew blows away. Instead of closing my legs when his hand slides over my belly, heading south, I open them. I invite him. It’s so wrong, all of it, but nothing could stop me. Not when I know what happens when he touches me like this.
“When I think of what might’ve happened to you last night if it had been anybody but us…” He strokes my outer lips, his breathing picking up speed. “That I might never have gotten to touch this body…”
I close my eyes, my head falling back, but the sharpness in his voice snaps me out of it. “Look at me. Look in my eyes.” I do as he says, staring into the dark depths, afraid of what I might find but more afraid of him stopping. That’s the last thing I want. If only he would never stop. When he dips into my seam, spreading my lips and touching the part of me that’s hot and aching, I gasp, and he chuckles. “That’s right. Look at me. Let me watch you.”
I have no idea what’s going on. What kind of game is this? Am I losing? Do I even care? He works my clit, stroking it in tight little circles, and nothing matters as much as the tension that has me lifting my hips, silently begging for more.
“Nobody else has ever made you come the way we did. Right?”
I can only shake my head, whimpering when he increases the pressure, making fireworks explode in my head while my hips roll in slow circles. I’m breathing heavily, and so is he, our eyes locked. He’s so close. Almost close enough to kiss.
He groans softly, staring at my mouth like he knows what I’m thinking. His eyes meet mine again. “Come for me now. Let me see you. Let me hear you. Don’t hold back, doll.” When my eyes threaten to slide shut again—I can’t help it—he uses his other hand to take a fistful of my hair. One little jerk is enough to open my eyes again.
It’s happening. I welcome it, want it, work for it. My hips jerk up and down until water splashes both of us. “Oh… Oh, my god…”
“Let go.” He pulls my hair a little harder, and for some reason, the heat intensifies, my hips jerking faster. So close…
The sweetest explosion starts low in my belly and radiates outward, all through the rest of my body. Wave after wave of bliss. I let out a choked sob, my hands gripping the sides of the tub, my body trembling from the force.
Evan smiles. The first genuine smile I’ve seen so far. “Good girl.”
Before I know what’s happening, something catches in my chest. A twinge of pain, sadness—all of my emotions are so much stronger and more vivid in these first moments after coming so hard. It’s like a dam is breaking, and all of a sudden, everything wants to pour out.
Which is why I start crying. I can’t help it any more than I could help what Evan just made me do. It comes out in huge sobs. I feel like my heart is breaking.
And he’s still here, hovering over me now. Is he concerned or just freaked out? “What’s the matter?”
I almost don’t want to say. At first, I shake my head, ready to lie and say it’s nothing, but that only makes me cry harder. “Why did you let me live? What was the point?”
“What?” He stands, pissed off now. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens and the way his eyes narrow. I’m not crying hard enough to miss it, and I wish I was.
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” When all he does is stare at me, I pull my knees up to my chest and touch my forehead to them, trembling. “What’s the point of me being alive? No one is gonna miss me anyway.” I know I’m throwing myself a pity party, but I also feel like I have every right to. I didn’t pity myself when I spent the last three Christmases alone, and I wasn’t planning on doing so this year, not until I was almost killed and then kidnapped.
For a while, the only sounds in the room are my sniffling and his breathing. At this point, I don’t care anymore if he’s angry or if he wants to hurt me or kill me. The thought of spending Christmas tied to a bed, all alone, is too much to handle. I might as well be dead if this is what the rest of my life will look like: a prisoner in their home, theirs to do whatever they want with. It doesn’t matter that my body likes it. My heart never will.
He finally picks up a towel, holding it in front of me. “Get dried off. I’ll wait outside in the hall. Don’t get any ideas.” Any warmth I heard in his voice earlier is gone now, but still, he is giving me a moment of privacy.
Baby steps.
7
MASON
“This is a stupid fucking idea.”Evan shakes his head, stepping back to take in everything I put together. We sort of worked together, but only up to a point. After lunch, he went to a dark place, and I knew better than to get on his case about it. I know that place, too. I’ve been there plenty of times.
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s brilliant… if it works.” I get up from where I’ve been kneeling and shrug. “How many years has Mom been bugging us to bring a girl home? Just imagine how happy she’ll be if we bring Frankie.”
“All I’m imagining is Frankie running to the police at the first chance she gets.”
“She won’t,” I quip, not even sure why. I have no evidence of it, but something tells me she wouldn’t rat us out. “If we want her to play along, we’re going to have to make her happy. At least for tonight.”
“I still vote for leaving her here. Taking her anywhere is too much of a risk.”
We’ve been through this at least ten times since breakfast. “And what if she gets out? We can’t leave her alone. Besides.” I lower my brow, shooting him a look. “What if there’s a problem? What if there’s a fire or something?”
