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I tighten my thighs, letting them flatten on the bed first.
“Get off me,” I shout, pushing at his chest.
“Don’t you dare,” he shouts back. “Don’t you fucking dare back out now!”
“Stop,” I shove his chest one more time and he lurches away from me, standing and ripping his hand through his hair angrily.
“FUCK!” he roars, grabbing the painting on the wall above his chest of drawers. It rips from the wall, no match for his brute strength and he throws it like a large rectangular Frisbee. It hits the wall across from the bed and breaks in two. “You fucking tease!”
I grip the blanket to my chest as he grabs his boxers and yanks them on, then his jeans.
He then proceeds to stamp on the painting with his bare foot, smashing it into further pieces, forcing me further back into the wall.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, wondering if I should have just said yes to avoid this. Is he going to hit me now? Send me back to that cell?
My words seem to penetrate whatever mood he’s in because he stops, looks at me, blows out a breath and approaches slowly.
I tense when he lifts me out of his bed into a cradle carry and places me onto his drawers. The glossy metal is cold under my bare rear.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he spreads my thighs and stands between them. He rests his head under my chin and instinctively I run my fingers up and down his spine. Cinnamon, tatted skin quivers under my fingertips. It’s more to soothe him so he doesn’t hurt me, or toss me out for the other men to have.
We silently remain like this for so long but I need to know where I stand. “Are you mad?”
“No.” He looks up at me, his eyes tired, then shakes his head as his features soften. “No.”
Lifting me again, he carries me back to the bed and lays me on it. I don’t protest for now because I don’t want to test his anger further. Surprisingly I don’t feel in any danger but I also don’t feel comfortable. Not until he climbs in with me and places his head on my navel, similar to how we woke up this morning. At first, I think he’s going to eat me again like last night, get me riled and try to seduce me, but then after a few tense moments I realise as his breathing softens that he’s sleeping, and I’m his pillow.
I shuffle a little, finding a more comfortable position as we rest diagonally across the bed. When I sink back into the pillows one final time after pulling the blanket over him, I close my eyes, praying I don’t fart in my sleep.
Kisses trail across my midriff, gently stirring me from my slumber. I keep my eyes closed, praying he hasn’t noticed a change in my breathing.
I can’t lie and say I’m not intrigued as to what he’s doing.
He gets higher and higher, pushing my top up as he goes as though he has every right to do so. His lips wrap around my nipple, I gasp and my eyes fly open, only to find his that are slanted with mischief and dilated with arousal.
“I was wondering when you’d stop pretending.”
“You act far too familiar with my body,” I mutter, yanking my top back down.
He doesn’t move, simply rests his head between my breasts and sighs tiredly.
I prod his temple with the point of my index finger. “What’s your actual name, Captain?”
He tenses and his breathing stops. “Does it matter?”
“I guess I just…” I wet my lips, looking away when his eyes try to find mine. “It doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t have asked.”
He nuzzles back into my breasts through the fabric of the T-shirt I don, smiling again. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll never kiss you willingly.”
“A week ago, you’d never have let me eat you either but here we are.” With that he climbs off my body and stretches tall. He’s so perfect. It’s a shame he’s a psychopath. “Come on, get dressed.”
“Why?” I ask, trying not to watch too intently as he covers his body in a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. Great body, great band.
“I’m going to show you how the pretty boat moves.”
I glare at him as I stand and take the shorts he tosses my way. “I’m not a little girl and this isn’t a pretty boat.”
“What is it then?” His tone is full of humour.
“It’s a big boat.”
His head falls back as he roars with laughter, a pleasant sound. Then, without permission, he hooks me around the back of my neck and plants his lips on mine. It lasts a second but it’s a second too long.
He doesn’t deepen it, instead he guides me into his bathroom and we brush our teeth side by side like a couple, not like captor and captive. Even going so far as to playfully battle over mirror space.
