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He wanted to use her. Hurt her.
He stepped up onto the small stage, walking heavily to make sure she heard his footsteps, and then dropped to a crouch. Like a fucking moth drawn to a flame that would set it ablaze.
“Your willingness to be used is a delight,” Faith murmured.
He couldn’t watch this anymore.
Benson cleared his throat. “Malvia, it’s me.”
She froze. She’d been still before so it wasn’t an obvious a cessation of movement. Instead her existing stillness became tighter. Tenser. A pregnant moment where she was frozen in space and time.
If he hadn’t been watching her as closely as he was, he wouldn’t have noticed it.
Benson closed his eyes, feeling once again that he should give her some privacy.
It didn’t last.
Hating himself a little more than before, he opened his eyes, let his gaze linger on her familiar face. He wanted to watch her, enjoy her in this passive, voyeuristic way that he hadn’t allowed himself to these past months. The few times he did happen to catch sight of her scening in public with someone else he’d always walked away, gone to the far side of the club.
He waited, knowing what was coming. Malvia was a firm believer in the best defense being a good offense.
He watched her closely, waiting. The shock of hearing his voice passed, that too-still tension released.
But she didn’t move. She stayed submissive.
“You’ve been working on maintaining your submission, haven’t you?” Mistress Faith’s question was clearly for his benefit.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You want a deep submission, don’t you?” Mistress Faith casually yanked on Malvia’s hair. “You want to sink so deeply, and explore submission so thoroughly, that you willingly and gratefully submit to being used whenever and however a dominant or master wants to use you.”
Benson looked up with a snarl. “Faith, knock it off. That’s toxic.”
That, finally, got a reaction from Malvia.
“Fuck off, Benson.”
He jerked his attention back to her. Faith had pulled her head back when she yanked on her hair, her head no longer bowed, her face visible.
Malvia’s mouth was set in a sneer. He couldn’t see her eyes because a shadow fell across the upper half of her face, but those lips pulled up in a disgusted twist told him everything he needed to know.
Told him how much she hated him.
Good. The feeling was mutual.
“Here’s a free life lesson.” Anger made his voice soft. “Don’t push and push and push when you can’t actually handle it.”
“Fuck. You.” Malvia’s words were hard and shocking in the quiet of the night. “You sanctimonious son of a bitch.”
She snapped her knees together and sat forward, getting into his face. “How dare you judge what I want. What I need.” Her voice turned mocking. “But wait, that’s right. No one could ever live up to the expectations you have for them. God forbid anyone have messy emotions, unlike perfect, controlled Benson.”
“Have you ever, in your life, just shut the fuck up and listened?” he asked.
He never spoke to a woman like that. Had his mama heard him speak so disrespectfully to a lady, she’d have whack him with a spoon.
But by God something about Malvia inspired him to a white-hot rage. She made him lose all sense of reason. She made him insane.
“Malvia.” Mistress Faith word was a sharp command.
