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Kazimir frightens me because, without a doubt, he will ensure I pay for what I did to him, but Saint scares me in a different way. I’m not fearful for my life when I’m with him. I’m fearful for my soul. I hate myself because each time he’s near, I crave more—more of his voice, his touches, more of him. I want to know the man beneath the mask.
My body’s response to him is…curiosity. I’ve never met a man like him before. He takes what he wants and commands control. In no way am I attracted to him, I mean, I’ve never even seen his face, and there is a little thing that he kidnapped me, but I can’t deny he makes me feel something…I just don’t know what that something is.
However, when the hatch opens, and the unmistakable sound of a woman’s moans travels down the stairs, I’m soon to identify what that something is.
It’s pitch black down here as the moon has gone into hiding, and there are no lights close by, but I see and hear enough to understand what is currently taking place before my eyes. My immediate reaction is to turn away, but there’s a reason he’s down here, parading his new prize. And I intend to find out what it is.
I shrink into the shadows, but Saint knows I’m awake, watching him as he comes tumbling down the stairs with some strange woman. I know it’s him by the broad width of his shoulders and his menacing height. A strangled gasp gets caught in my throat, and I strain my eyes. There must be some mistake. But as I perch on the end of the seat and dig my fists into my eyes to ensure I’m not seeing things, I see it…he’s not wearing his ski mask.
I can’t make out any distinguishing features, but when the moon peeks its head out from behind the darkness, it highlights strands of messy dark hair. It looks wild and untamed, just long enough to tie back. The long tresses are thick and full of volume. He looks like he just tumbled from bed.
When he slams his eager lover against the wall, I flinch, wishing I’d chosen another analogy.
Once again, the moon takes cover, but her impassioned moans fill in the blanks. His back faces me while she writhes against the wall, speaking to him in Arabic. I’m taken aback when he replies in her native tongue.
I feel obscene bearing witness to something so personal, but this is just so…foreign. Sure, I’ve watched the occasional porn clip, who hasn’t, but seeing this in real life is utterly captivating. Drew went down on me, and I returned the favor, but this is something else. The way her moans intensify like she’s about to explode has me inching forward, desperate for a closer look.
All I can make out are shadows, so I rely on my ears to fill in the blanks. When I hear a garment being shred, it’s apparent things are about to get messy. Her bracelets jingle as I presume she undoes his pants because a second later, I hear a zipper being unfastened and the crinkle of a wrapper.
“Fuck me,” she hums.
I grip the leather beneath me, my fingernails almost tearing through the material. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I suddenly want to rip out her tongue. My heart begins to race, and I’m covered in a light sheen of perspiration. What’s wrong with me?
Her impatient sighs deepen, and the sound does something to me which it should not. I feel myself growing wet between the legs because I feel like a secret voyager, privy to the most intimate act between two people. I am ashamed and disgusted, but I can deal with that later because when a guttural cry penetrates the air, I know Saint has hit home.
The rough slapping of flesh soon follows as the woman howls in delight, mumbling words in a language I don’t understand. What I do understand however is Saint hissing as I see a sharp tug of his head. “No kissing.”
Relief swarms me because to me, a kiss is more sacred, and in some sick way, it pleases me that he won’t kiss her. But he certainly has no qualms fucking her. I hate referring to the act in such a way, but the untamed sounds of flesh sliding together and the banging against the wall hints that this is exactly that.
Fucking. And fucking hard.
Even though I can’t see a whole lot, tears sting my eyes because I suddenly feel so dirty. Why did he bring her down here? Her honeysuckle perfume will forever mar these walls as will the cry of her coming loudly as Saint drives into her violently.
Once again, so many emotions flood me, but this time, I can’t help the jealousy that rises. I don’t even know why I’m jealous. I suppose I miss the connection with another human being. But deep down, in a secret place, the truth floats just below the surface.
I’m jealous because I want to know what it feels like. If what Saint says is true, then I will be losing my virginity to a monster. If I’ve been sold, there is only one reason. Is that why Saint brought her down here? To show me what’s headed my way?
God only knows what perverse things that man will subject me to. Is Saint once again showing me kindness by being cruel?
I can’t stand to hear anymore, so I lower myself onto the lounge and lie on my side, covering my ears. When the vibrations stop, I know he’s done.
My cheeks are damp with tears as I suddenly feel so betrayed. After he tended so kindly to me today, I thought that maybe he wasn’t all bad. But here he is, lying post-coitus with some random woman.
This room may be my prison, but it’s mine.
“I promise…you will talk.”
His parting words today echo loudly, and I succumb, just as I always do, which is exactly why he did what he did. This is once again a lesson.
“Make her leave,” I whisper, heavy with despair. I can’t stand to have her here.
I’m not even sure if he heard me, but when I hear him utter something in Arabic, I know that he did.
“You’re not serious?” she wails, clearly horror-struck there won’t be any snuggling.
“Get out,” Saint replies, in case she is lost in translation.
The woman turns banshee as she shrieks in Arabic, but I tune it out. Before the hatch closes, however, what I hear confuses me even more so. “You could only come when you looked at her…so fuck her next time!”
