“Then do it,” I challenged. “I will never give you what you want. I will never be yours.” Silence was all we had between us as I waited for the press of the knife, but it never came.
“Maybe not here,” he whispered as he trailed the knife from the throat to my chest where my heart beat underneath. “But you will in everything else.”
He lifted me into his arms and carried me out of the bedroom. I looked around as much as I could. Nervous anticipation built until I was shaking with it. He carried me into the kitchen and set me down gently on the tabletop. The coldness in his eyes remained so I scooted away, but his hand on my thigh stopped me. “Don’t move.”
My clothes were shed under his hands, and while I wanted to fight him, the warning in his eyes made me hesitate.
When I was completely naked, he nodded to the chair, and I quickly sat in it. I pushed forward and used the tabletop to shield as much of my body as I could. His smirk told me that he noticed.
He turned his back and quickly set about making breakfast. I watched him from the corner of my eye, but he never turned to acknowledge me. When he was done, he set a plate in front of me with the order to eat and then turned back to clean the dishes.
“Who said I was hungry?”
“It doesn’t matter if you are or not. You do what I say and that means eating when I say.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll punish you.”
“This isn’t punishment?”
“You aren’t suffering… yet. So don’t try my patience.”
The dangerous edge in his voice made the threat seem all the more real, so I silently picked up my fork and ate. I was surprised at how good it tasted.
When did he learn to cook?
Like me, he had barely been able to defrost a chicken without screwing it up somehow. An ugly thought formed, and I was disturbed by jealousy. “This is good. Did your girlfriend teach you how to cook?”
His bark of laughter surprised me. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t for four years.”
“Fine. Your slut buckets. I’m sure you have tons.”
He turned to face me, gripping a plate in his hand. “I don’t have tons… only one.” He took a seat and regarded me with lust in his eyes. “Come here,” he ordered. He pushed his untouched food away and patted the space on the table in front of him. Ever aware of my naked state, I climbed on the table to the spot he indicated. “Spread your legs for me. Let me see what’s mine.”
My trembling legs seemed to fall apart under his heated gaze, warming my sex in return. His hands ran the length of my thighs, but he kept this touch light.
“I’ve always loved the feel of your skin. So soft and supple. Touch yourself. Feel what I feel.”
My fingers hesitantly pushed through the warm lips of my sex. My body quivered in answer, and I could almost feel everything he was thinking of doing to me. Everything he would do to me.
“I won’t need to ask if you’re ready for me. I can see the evidence dripping from your fingers.” I wanted to beg for him to touch me, but that would be surrender and I couldn’t do that. “I know what you want, but you won’t ask for it, will you?”
I continued the light touch of my fingers and even went as far as to insert one. If he could tease then so could I. His indrawn breath was barely audible, but my senses were too in tune with his not to hear.
“You’re going to fucking kill me,” he groaned. His mouth descended, and the moment his lips met mine, I came apart and filled the kitchen with my cries.
I could feel my willpower weakening along with my body. I didn’t even realize that I was falling. In more ways than one. My back now rested on the tabletop, and my legs opened wider for greater access.
“Take it all,” I whispered just before the force of my release sucked the air from my lungs along with my will.
“I plan to,” he whispered back. Regret that he’d heard me was quickly replaced by the sudden and merciless invasion of his cock. The table rocked and the chairs collapsed under the force of his hips. I swallowed back my cries until they were nothing but whimpers. I wouldn’t give him that. “No, baby, don’t you hold yourself back.” He slid his hand between our bodies and tortured my clit. “Scream for me.”
*
Keenan had spent the morning taking me, and not once did I resist. He had done things to me that still made me blush. There wasn’t a part of my body that he left untouched.
“What are we doing here?” I asked much later as I looked around the empty tattoo shop with irritation.
“Righting a wrong.” He started setting up as if getting ready for a client.
“Is this your shop?” I tried not to sound impressed when I asked but failed. I had always wondered what Keenan had gone on to do and if he had found someone else. He left before he could graduate due to his long stay in the hospital, and given his quiet yet desperate need for attention and affection, it was impossible to picture him without someone.
“It’s mine.” He patted the leather chair. “Hop up and lay on your stomach.”
“But I don’t want a tattoo.”