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“Please…” I whisper. Yet I am not sure if I am asking for him to let me go or make good on his promise. I want to say more, to clarify, explain myself before he does the one thing I desperately want him to do, just to find out how it feels.
But my time is up.
NIKLAS
She is absolutely infuriating. Not only does she casually invite herself into my office, but she makes herself comfortable and then demands my attention when I’m clearly in the middle of something.
On top of it all, she decides to be rude and slam her tiny fist on my desk like she damn well owns the place. Yes, I might have been rude by not answering her question, but I have no need to be polite when she can clearly see I’m busy. I make the fucking rules here, and I fear I may be growing soft with her!
I follow the trail of goosebumps that burst all over her bare legs as that one delicious pleading word leaves her lips and fuck, how I wanted her to give an excuse. She’s not sure what she’s asking for, but she doesn’t appear to be squirming to get out of my grip anymore, her body is still and completely tense in anticipation.
I lift the fabric that covers her body, pull down yet another pair of my underwear from her ass and before she can protest further, I slap her right ass cheek so hard her whole body jerks. She yelps at the impact.
A red handprint appears on her flesh.
“Fucking beautiful,” I whisper and smile.
I slap the other cheek harder and she curses at me, but I give her two more before I open my mouth.
“Excuse me?!” I ask. “I told you to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut until I finished what I was doing.”
My palm meets her ass twice more, this time on that sensitive part where it meets her thighs and I know the impact will be felt in her core as well. She’s clamping her mouth shut, pushing back the sounds of her pleasure. I’m not being gentle here, I’m not practicing any safe BDSM, this shit is not about that. I give her two more and she finally cries out, but pain is not the only sound I hear.
I want to fuck her, god how I want to fuck her right now, but damn it, I can’t. I have work to do, and I can’t constantly submit to this little siren! She makes me mad and I can’t fucking keep my hands off her.
I stop myself after two more hard slaps, resting my hand on her right ass cheek, kneading it as I attempt to compose myself. I know she can take what I give her, harness it and turn it into pleasure. She wants it as much as I want to give it to her, yet she fights it, she fights her nature and I can’t figure out why.
But then again, how can I blame her when I’m fighting myself as well? I thought I needed to be myself with her… it turns out my demons sing a different tune around the little siren.
Fuck.
I sigh, pull the underwear back up, lift her off my body, holding her hips so she doesn’t stumble. She’s standing on my right, her hands gripping my forearm and the look of pain, lust, and confusion painted on her face is amusing. She looks like she doesn’t know if she should yell that I spanked her, complain that I didn’t finish the job, or just walk away before she gets in any deeper. Yet she doesn’t do any of it, she just watches me, her brows furrowing, her look analytical. I feel like I’m trapped under a spotlight and a whole crowd is watching me.
“Sit.” I pat my jeans-covered thigh. She doesn’t move, and I feel my eyes rolling to the back of my fucking head, so I pull her until she’s reluctantly sitting in my lap.
The moment she sees the photo blown up on one of my screens, her body jerks backwards, her back stuck to my front and her hands clutch the edge of the desk. I circle one arm around her waist and it seems to relax her.
“Sorry…” she mumbles. “I just wasn’t expecting… you found him.” I slide the chair until we’re as close as we can get to the desk and more importantly, the keyboard, and she’s gone. Looking at every screen, reading all the information I found, her curiosity relaxing her body.
“Son of a bitch… Adrien Long, born April 1st1981… I was a goddamn birthday present for him?!” The disdain in her voice is palpable, but she carries on reading the information I dug up. “Wait, he was caught before on suspicion of kidnapping?!” Her pretty little head whips around to look into my eyes, her long brown hair flipping over her shoulder.
“Apparently so, they couldn’t prove it though.” She turns back to the screens and absorbs all the information on it. Adrien Long, born in Long Island, New York, to an unknown father and an abusive whore of a mother who pimped him out to strangers for drug money. He was in the system before he hit thirteen years old and due to his troubled upbringing, he was the opposite of what he is now. Quiet, reserved, a punching bag for all the bigger kids. I could have potentially felt sorry for him if I didn’t know that under that mask lurks a monster.
“How did you find all of this, Niklas? This is… sealed information, not even the police would be able to unseal this unless they went through fifteen different bureaucratic channels, since Adrien was a minor at the time.”
“I have my ways.” She turns to me and holds my gaze. She’s demanding an answer and I have awhat the hellmoment making the decision for me. “I used to do this for a living, I owned a tech company and we specialized in defense technology. I’m good at this, finding people, information…”
“Obviously you are, but wouldn’t a defense company deal with bigger fish?”
“They do.”
She knows I murdered the motherfucker that killed my ex, she heard me when I said he was myfirst, she’s seen the monster lurking in the shadows of my mind. Yet, I can’t help but wonder what she will think of me when she will hear the truth, when she will find out who I really am… what my demons urge me to do. I hesitate because I don’t want to push her away… she fucking belongs.
“I don’t.” I pause to see her reaction, but she doesn’t move or blink. “A long time ago my mother told me that I’m different than the other boys in school. She told me that she never intended to point it out, she wanted me to grow up without actively knowing that I’m different. But after discussing it with my father, she decided I needed to acknowledge it and embrace it. She noticed my lack of emotion… my trouble understanding what others around me felt in certain situations… my lack of empathy. Like when my grandmother died and everyone was crying around me, yet I seemed to be the only one that understood that it had to happen, and it was better she died when she did before becoming a fucking vegetable.” Suki sits in my lap, green eyes watching me, patiently waiting for more.
“She said my teachers recommended a formal assessment by a doctor, but she refused. She said that she knew what diagnosis they would give me and that meds would be the answer. But I was who I was, and she never wanted to change that; however, she also felt like me acknowledging the differences between other people and I would allow me to understand them, form better connections, learn.”
I can see the wheels in Suki’s mind spinning. She’s intelligent enough to make the connections, the spectrum is large, but the milder side of it is common enough.
