Hansel 1-4: The Complete Series (15 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Leah
 

I’ve got my arm around him, over his bruised ribs. It was around his waist, but he grabbed my hand and pulled it tighter over him, which caused my arm to slide up a little, right over where the worst of his bruising is. He’s partially asleep, and I’m not sure that he can feel the pressure of my arm on his back.

But maybe he can. Maybe he’s doing it because he wants the pain. Right now, lying by him on the bed, is the first time today I haven’t been in sub mode, or actively trying to break out of it.

I’m finding that I hate sub mode. He was right on Monday. I’m not a submissive at all. If anything, I want to be in charge. To give him a satisfying sexual experience that doesn’t involve blood or bruises. 

I did it earlier when I got the crazy idea to give his prostate a massage, and it worked out even better than I could have dreamed. I heard about that once from Lana, and I would have never thought I’d have the nerve to try it out in real life—especially at a moment like that. But I did, and it was amazing. I didn’t think he’d argue with me, but I’m learning there’s no way to predict him.

I’m not sure he even knows what he wants. I think maybe the pain is a necessity—so I’ve been trying to think of other creative ways to hurt him, or just to push him, without doing something sick like clawing gashes into his back.

As my eyes rove up and down his beautiful body, I wonder what happened to make him this way.

Was he this way at Mother’s house, and he hid it from me?

Was he this way before? For all the many hours we talked, I know almost nothing about his childhood, other than he was in a lot of different foster homes.

I stroke his shoulder lightly, just a tickle, not enough to wake him up, and I let myself ponder one of the things about seeing him again that bothers me the most—and that’s the suspicion I have that maybe he became this way at Mother’s house.

He would leave his room and…

Tears shimmer in my eyes. 

I couldn’t leave my room, so…it’s not like there was anything I could really do except sing when he knocked.

But still. It feels like partially my fault. I knew him there. I even loved him there. It seems to me like love should be a literal shield. It should offer physical protection; it should be a balm that heals real wounds. I lay back down beside him, and I wonder why the opposite is true—why loving someone almost always leads to pain.

I guess there’s a price for everything.

*

Lucas

I wake up aching inside, remembering her: not my Leah; Shelly.

I feel Leah’s hand stroking my arm, and I want to throw her off me. Scream at her to stop. I don’t deserve her comfort. I don’t deserve to lie on the same bed with her.

If she knew what I did…

If she knew all the varied tortures of my past…

My stomach lurches, and I breathe in deeply through my nose.

I can’t take her fucking fingers stroking, so I roll over on the silky duvet, just slightly out of her reach.

I’m met with her blue eyes. They’re gentle and earnest and kind, everything I know I’ll never deserve.

Why did I bring her here? Why did I think I could treat her like the others, keep it just sex—my kind of sex? I’ve failed at that already.

I’m so fucking weak.

I sit up fully, gritting my teeth against the ache of what I’m pretty sure is a cracked rib.

Leah moves to come to me, but I shoot her a stern look, and she sits up on her heels, with her hands on her thighs. She still has the mask on.

She doesn’t know I know who she is. She thinks that I still believe she’s Lauren. Which means I can order her around without suspicion on her part. I can keep my distance if I need to—and I need to.

“Lower your chin,” I tell her. “Look at the mattress. You don’t look at me without permission.”

She obeys, her stark blonde hair falling over her slim shoulders. My heart pounds with the want to touch it. I want to pull her to my chest and wrap my arms around her, even as I know that I should send her running. Because I’m chicken shit, I do neither, settling instead for something in between.

“Earlier, when I was fucking you, did I tell you to take charge? What did I tell you?”

Her eyes flicker up at mine.

“Did I tell you to look at me?”

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even shake her head.

“What did I ask you to do, Leah?”

She swallows. “Claw your back,” she whispers.

“And you disobeyed—again.” It was perfect. Uncomfortable and frightening and so fucking perfect. She gave me the best orgasm of my life. I deepen my frown and censure her with my expression. “I thought we agreed that you would be submissive.”

I watch her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes. I can almost feel the anger rolling off her. She’s not enjoying this the way I’d hoped she would. I can’t bring her to heel. Of course not. The setup is all wrong.

This was a mistake.

Not hers, but mine. She knows who I am. Is only doing this because I’m me, if my guess is correct. I, on the other hand, am a dom who should fucking know better.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, making it bleed a little. I suck on it and flex my sore hands. “Leah, would you like to be released from our agreement? You may answer verbally.”

I watch her with a pounding heart, feeling almost dizzy.

“No, Master.”

I didn’t tell her to call me Master, but I overlook that.

“Why not?” I ask her in a low voice.

“Because I’d like to learn the art of pleasing you, Master.”

“You want to give me pleasure.” I nod, feeling uncomfortably warm inside my chest. “I know. But I get off on pain. Not just discomfort that coincides with pleasure—” like the mind-fuck that happened between us earlier.

Her eyes flicker up to mine, and I nod, giving her permission to speak. “I can make you come,” she says in a quiet but strong voice. “I just want to do things my way.”

I arch a brow. “So instead of trusting me the way I’d like, you’d like me to trust you?”

She nods, her soft lips pressed together, hesitation softening her features. “I want us to trust each other.”

My stomach churns at the idea of a give-and-get relationship. I’m not sure what I would do without the ability to dictate every aspect of each fuck. Without the power to order my partner into giving me the pain I need.

“That’s a bold proposition, Leah. You made me come earlier, so I respect the suggestion, but still… I’m a dom. You know that, don’t you?”

She nods slowly.

“What you’re suggesting would be…new for me.”

I’ve never, ever had a sexual relationship that didn’t involve a dominant and a submissive. The only time I wasn’t dominant…

“Why should I consider it?” I ask her, stern and quiet.

She looks up at me through long lashes. “May I show you?”

Heat seeps through me, congregating in my cock. It swells and stiffens as she reaches for me.

I grab her hand before it touches me and hold it with my own. “I didn’t tell you yes.”

Her eyes lift gently up to mine. She smiles softly. “May I…?”

I smirk, a light twist of my lips that has no connection whatsoever to the knots inside my gut. There’s a reason I’m a dom—a lot of fucking reasons. When I’m in charge, I’m able to steer each encounter through the narrow channel of what’s acceptable for me. What I can fucking handle. When I’m not…

Let’s just say there’s a lot of mistakes someone could make. But…this is Leah. And as much as I just want her to play by my damn rules, there’s another side of me—equal parts brave and masochistic—that wants to push myself.

So I whisper, “Yes.”

The word is rasped. My heart beats harder and my fists clench as her small hands ease me down onto my back. Seeing her between my knees is bliss and torture. Feeling her fingers crawl down my abs and stroke my thighs…goddamn, it’s good. She has long nails now. I feel dizzy.

“Leah.” My eyes clench shut.

She wraps her hands around my hard cock and lifts it off my belly.

Through slitted eyes, I peer up at her, watching as she positions herself over me and spreads her slick lips over my head. Then she grabs onto my hips and sinks slowly down on me.

“Oh fuck…
Leah
.”

“I’m gonna ride you,” she whispers, rising up a little, so her hot cunt grips my cock; she slams back down.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah…that’s right. Close your eyes and let me fuck you like I want to.”

Her fingers trail over my abs as she lifts her ass in the air again and again, riding my dick like she owns it. She reaches behind her ass and under, grasping my balls and tugging just enough to make me ache.

“Fuck me.” I writhe beneath her. Like a lot of times before the pain starts, anxiety roils inside me… I try to push it down and start to thrust.

I want to give her control, to see what that’s like. I would do anything for Leah, but I… Fuck. I grab her arms, pulling her down lower over me, so her breasts dangle just above my chest. So I can have control over the trajectory of my cock and how it rubs her as I punch in and out.

She shudders, and I groan.

She leans over farther, so the head of my dick rubs the side of her smooth channel. She works her thighs and ass, rising and falling faster on my dick, making me so damn hard my cock starts leaking.

Her smooth breasts press against my chest. One hand grips my shoulder, squeezing lightly. Her fingers trail down and find my nipple.

God, my cock is hard and thick. I push it deeper and she cries out, her pussy clenching tight around me. I can feel my balls squeeze up, throbbing in anticipation of pain. She said she would give me pain. What will she do this time?

She pushes her chest against mine and lifts her head and shoulders, trailing her palm toward my throat like she’s going to try that. She spreads her fingers over my collarbone, and I feel my dick pulse in anticipation of the fear and pain I know will come if she’s brave enough to wedge her hand against my throat.

But Leah changes things.

Just after she starts to press down with her hand, she lifts it up. Her eyes flicker over mine, and then she grabs my wrists and hauls my arms over my head. Her fingers tighten around them, holding my hands against the mattress as she finds my nipple with her teeth and tugs. She twists and bites so hard I blow my load inside her, barking out my pleasure—reeling from the fear of what she’s doing with my arms.

I try to pull my wrists free as my body clenches in release, but her grip is tight. She’s coming, too, seconds behind me. I try to lie there while she finishes. Try to ignore the sensation of having my arms locked up above me, the sensation of having my scarred wrist touched. No one ever touches it, but this is Leah.

I watch her face as pleasure flickers over it in waves.

Come on, Leah…

Come on, baby…

I suck back air, but it’s too late. I’m starting to see spots.

I grit my teeth and jerk my wrists out of her grasp. I try to, but she won’t let go. Not fast enough.

She doesn’t know, but every pain that I enjoy is nothing in comparison to this.

*

Lucas
Fourteen Years Ago

The warehouse is the last one on a row, at the back of an old, abandoned factory district in Las Vegas.

Inside, at night, it’s even creepier than the shit-hole it is during the day. I’ve been here a few times in the past couple months, all for shit like this, but tonight is different.

Tonight, on the other side of the back door, the one that leads to the old kitchen, lies our final task: the initiation task.

I stand there in my black pants and my black sweatshirt. My face is covered by a hood, only my eyes and mouth visible to the guys around me who are soon to be my Brothers; fellow Raiders.

In the last few years, this gang has taken over every school in Vegas, and at my school, it’s especially prominent.

Standing there with my arms folded in front of me, lined up with the other five in my clan, facing Steven W., our leader, I feel sick inside. I wish so much that I had chosen something different.

I wish that I’d been brave enough, selfless enough, to tell Shelly ‘no’ when she asked eight months ago if I wanted to live with her.

I did—I do want to; I love it, but when she finds out I joined a gang, it’s going to kill her. I know she’ll feel like she failed me, and she didn’t. Not at all. I was in this shit before she made her offer. All me. My dumb fuck choices.

So I can’t complain when Steven starts to talk, and my stomach clenches up. Our task is gruesome. Sick. It makes my head pound and my throat feel full and tight.

He describes in detail what we’re going to do, and I wonder dumbly if I could maybe run.