I Know What Love Is (7 page)

I pumped into her, not too hard but not too soft, and I could feel her cream gushing around me. She moaned into my mouth, her hands running up my sides. I swung my arms back, capturing her wrists. I brought her arms up and wrapped them around my neck. She still didn't fight me. She was soft and pliant and I liked the way she felt, wrapped around me. I liked how her tits were smashed against my chest, and I liked the way our sweat mingled together as we fucked.

I dragged my mouth down her chin, the taste of her salty skin on my tongue. I slid my cock deeper inside of her, the pleasure so fucking intense I almost couldn't take it. She made little moaning sounds in her throat, like she was in pain. I flicked my eyes to her face, making sure she was still with me. She was biting on her lip, her eyes glazed.

“
Did you like that, baby?” I asked, rolling my hips and gritting my teeth as the sensation traveled up my spine. I could take all the pleasure I wanted from her body, but her pleasure was a more intangible thing. I'd hurt her, there was no denying it. I would hurt her again. But she'd let me give her pleasure, too. I wanted to be the only man who could give her pleasure. Possessiveness, ugly and harsh, reared up in me again as my gaze raked over her beautiful face. “Say you like it,” I whispered, needing to hear her say it.

She moaned in response, lifting her head to look at the place where our bodies joined, where my cock slid in and out of her. I followed her gaze, and was treated to the sexiest sight in the world. I shuddered, watching as her pussy swallowed me, devoured me. She dropped her head back, eyes drooping closed and I captured her lips again and kissed her hard and deep. She trembled against me, her arms tightening around my neck.

“Say it,” I demanded softly. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“
It...” she trailed off, and I dropped a hand to her thigh, finding that sensitive spot she'd revealed to me earlier. Her eyes widened beautifully and her pussy clenched around me and I felt a burning heat well up inside of my chest. My balls tightened. My dick swelled. I was ready, I just needed her words. “Fuck! It feels so good,” she cried, throwing her head to the side, her words cutting through me like a knife. I bucked into her one last time, my body finally giving out.

I fell in love with her as I exploded inside of her.

She was mine, but I was also hers.

We belonged to each other.

Afterwards, as we lay tangled together, sweaty and breathing heavy, on top of the sheets, she asked me what my name was.

“
Elliot,” I said. It didn't occur to me to lie.

Chapter Six

S
aturday bled into Sunday. Those days are blurry in my mind, for whatever reason, probably repression. I remember we slept a lot, his big body wrapped around mine. When he woke up, I woke up. When he wanted to fuck, we fucked. When he was hungry, we ate. When he had to pee, we pissed. We were attached at the hip.

He knotted a long length of old twine rope around my neck, but didn't bother re-binding my hands. When it suited him, he yanked on his homemade leash, pulling me against him, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly. He could switch from gentle to rough in the blink of an eye, but I started to learn the signs. If his breathing slowed in his chest, and his cruel mouth ticked at the corner, he was usually about to get mean. It was a subtle change, but by Sunday night, I was in tune with him. I could sense his mood

In the middle of dinner, I was kneeling at his feet, my leash wrapped around his forearm. He was feeding me some meat, I think it was chicken, his greasy fingers dipping into my mouth. I know I was licking at him, my eyes trained on his. I knew how quickly a caress could turn to a smack, but I was relatively relaxed. My body still ached, but I was used to the ever-present throbbing pain. At least I was healing. And sometimes, he made me feel good enough to forget.

I had lulled him into a sort of comfortable companionship. Maybe he lulled me as well, but I hadn't given up, even if I had stopped fighting him overtly. It was better for me in all ways if I didn't fight. It could be... pleasurable if I didn't. Sometimes he would focus on getting me off, and he was learning, too. What I liked. How to touch me so that I would moan and writhe against him.

With every fiber of my being, I hated him.

Elliot
. I let the word echo in my brain, reminding myself that the devil had a name.

But the more I sucked on his fingers, the tighter my muscles clenched and my spine straightened. I was letting myself go again, to the inevitable. I kept my hands on the floor beside my hips, obediently, the position forcing my breasts to stand at attention. He pulled his arm back, tearing more chicken off of the bone on his plate. He lifted the meat to his own lips, chewing slowly. I watched him, swallowing hard. We were caught up in some kind of seductive dance. Both of us had done more fucking than talking in those two days. Sex and violence were heavy in the air. It was inescapable. It was all around me, threatening to smother me.

I almost missed the signs. His mouth ticked and I barely had time to steel myself. He stood abruptly, the table quaking, the ceramic plate clattering. The leash cinched around my neck shockingly fast. My hands immediately flew to my neck but the rope was already digging into my skin. He yanked at the tether holding us together, and I fell forward, my air flow completely cut off. I clawed at my neck as my eyes bulged. Blood thundered in my ears. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he closed a hand around my neck and raised me up, until my toes barely brushed the carpet. Then he threw me across the top of the table, stomach down.

I took in a deep gasp of air, and it cut through my injured throat like a knife. I coughed, my vision darkening. He ran his calloused fingertips down my spine, into the cleft of my ass. I gulped in air, but I didn't move. I didn't fight him. He continued exploring, running his hands down the curve of my ass to the back of my thighs and lower. He lifted my left foot off the floor and pressed a kiss to the arch.

A foreboding shiver ran down my back.

He wrapped the length of rope around my ankle, bowing my body and forcing my head upwards. If I dropped my foot or my head an inch, I would slowly strangle myself. My fingernails dug into the wood of the well-worn tabletop, panic rearing up in me. Somehow, I don't think his mother or grandmother envisioned Elliot tying up a girl and raping her on their formal dining table when they served the Thanksgiving turkey or the Easter ham.

I took a deep breath, pressing my palms to the cool, hard wood. I told myself to relax as much as I possibly could. It would be better that way. He leaned over me, one hand gripping my hip, the other hooked over my shoulder as he pushed deep. I was ready for him, but he still took my breath away. The gentle imposter was gone. In his place was the true Elliot, the monster that I had met on Friday night. He drove in and out, his invading cock callous and relentless.

I cried out as he slapped my ass, the sound reverberating through the room. My throat felt shredded, and tears welled up in my eyes. I craned my head so that he could see that he was hurting me. He liked to see my pain. It turned him on. I blinked, letting a drop cascade down my cheek. He hissed in a sharp breath, and growled out my name. Well, the name he thought was mine.

“Open that mouth again, Daisy baby. Scream for me,” he gritted out, his muscles tight, his neck sinewy. He slapped my ass again, and I was pretty sure I was going to have a purple bruise in the shape of his hand on me for days. I awarded him with a jagged, hoarse scream and a few more tears and he came, his body jerking as he filled me up.

I realized I had been holding my breath, and I let it out in a whoosh. He leaned forward on to me, his sweat-damp chest pressing against my back. With a bone deep sigh, he unravelled the rope from my foot and let it drop. Relieved, I pressed my cheek to the tabletop as he sagged his weight onto me. He pressed his face into my hair and his hand found mine, closing around it. I stared off into the living room, feeling his come seeping down my thighs although his cock was still inside of me.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his breath tickling across my skin. A few minutes passed, and I wondered if he'd fallen asleep on top of me. I let my eyes drift around the living room. Like in the bedroom, the room was full of midcentury furniture—a low slung couch and Naugahyde easy chairs. Stained and faded green shag carpeting stretched wall-to-wall. A new flat screen TV was planted on top of an ancient floor model. His and my clothes from Friday were still flung on the floor, my cowboy boots and his steel-toes tipped on their sides in the middle of the floor. His jeans were crumbled beside them, and I stared at them blindly for a few moments until it slowly dawned on me what I was seeing.

My heart stopped in my chest.

His keys were in the pocket of his jeans.

His keys
.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep a giddy yelp from escaping. I had a chance. It was a small, unlikely chance, but I was going to fucking take it. I closed my eyes as a wave of relief washed over me. My ordeal might soon be over. If I was smart. He stirred on top of me, and my breath caught. He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

“You still hungry, baby?” he asked, his voice drowsy. I shook my head no and he levered himself off of me. We both grunted as his still-hard cock slid out of me, tender after the ride he'd subjected me to. I rolled over onto my side and snuck a look at him. He wasn't paying any attention to my miraculous discovery. He was looking at me, his eyes raking over my exposed body. I lay there, still and silent, trying not to draw attention to the excited blood pumping through my veins.

“
Don't move,” he said, then turned and walked to the kitchen. He didn't let go of the leash though, the rope stretching between us, connecting us through space. He returned with a wet paper towel and he wiped me clean, softly, between my legs. I watched him, the cool wet towel soothing my enflamed flesh. I resisted the urge to shiver and sigh at his soft touch. I wasn't fooled by him, but it did feel good to be taken care of.

He wrapped his hand around the leash, beckoning me to him gently this time. I sat up and slid my throbbing bottom across the cool wood and off the table. He stepped close, pressing his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes. I'm not going to lie - the intensity that burned in his gaze scared me. Long gone was the flat, unaffected expression he'd had the first time he'd pressed his body to mine at The Blue Mermaid. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had only been days. Back then, I was merely a means to an end, a way to scratch an annoying itch. Now his eyes held a slightly manic light, and I could practically hear the thoughts whirling around in his crazy brain.

He wanted to keep me forever.

He thought I was
his
.

I, however, had no intentions of being his special pet. He could pat me on the head a million times, but he only had to snap one time and I'd be dead. It would only be a matter of time before he killed me. I already knew how it would probably happen, too – he'd fly into a rage over some little thing, or the urge would simply come over him, and he would strangle the life right out of me. He was the type who could kill with his bare hands and not think twice about it. Maybe he'd shed a tear or two over me, but I doubted it. Then I would be buried in the back yard, next to Fluffy.

No fucking way was I going to let that happen.

I had to take my chance.

I took his hand in mine, sliding my fingers between his. He hissed in a sharp breath, as if surprised that I was touching him of my own volition.

“
Can we watch TV?” I asked softly, as if I was scared to speak. Immediately, he was suspicious.

“
Why?”

I shrugged, innocently. He worked his jaw, as if he was trying to figure out what I was up to.

“Kiss me,” he demanded. I took a shaky breath, and slid my arms over his neck, like I knew he liked. I let them sag a little until he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “Tighter,” he whispered. I obliged him, clenching my arms tight until our lips were almost touching. I darted out my tongue, flicking it against his lips. “Fucking kiss me,” he growled, and I knew I was pushing my luck. I stood up on my tiptoes and let my lips brush his. Barely. I wanted to leave him begging for more.

My plan worked. He dropped his hands to my ass and hauled me up against his chest. He carried me to the couch and sat, forcing me to straddle him. His cock was already stirring between us. He wasn't done with me for the night, but I was counting on that. I had to fuck him so good that I'd knock him out cold, long enough for me to get away. Seduction was my mission if I chose to accept it, and believe me, I accepted it.

He pulled on the leash, bringing my face close to his once more. He sucked my lower lip and I moaned. What was it about that that made my thighs clench? I hated that he knew what buttons to push on me. After two days, he had explored every inch of my body from the soles of my feet to the roof of my mouth. Like any man, he liked my breasts and my ass and my pussy, but he was more possessive than normal. He hadn't ignored any patch of my skin. He'd licked and sucked all of me, claimed all of me for his own.

I pushed up on my knees, repositioning myself directly over his erection. Then I pulled him close and kissed the shit out of him. I dipped my tongue between his lips and fucked him with it. He massaged the magic spots at the back of my thighs, right under my ass, and I moaned into him. We moved together, turning each other on with our mouths and our hands. I switched off my brain, not wanting to feel any shame or embarrassment. I was fucking for survival, and I was going to make it count.