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I flip her and watch her arse rise towards my face. It makes me run my tongue through her folds, bite at something I’ve denied myself just for the sheer hell of it. She moans again at that, bucks and keeps shoving herself back in my face. My fingers go in again, and I look at the whole vision in some fever of rage and possession.
More fucking happens. Fucking to the point where I can’t breathe and she’s almost crying under my assault. I don’t care. My hand’s clamped over her mouth so her screams can’t be heard. And my dick is drilling deep and fucking hard with every drive she takes. It all ends like a bomb detonating inside me, making me pull her face back to mine so I can kiss those lips again.
The frenzy eventually subsides, leaving me with a languid sense of ownership. I chuckle lightly at the thought of it, amused that a woman – this woman – might make me go against the grain I’ve cut for myself. And then I notice the tape on her foot. It reminds me of the branding, of the fact that she is not mine at all.
She moves, as I do, until she’s back on my lap. “That must hurt,” I state. I just hold her there, fingers idly playing with her pussy so I can feel my cum inside her.
“It does,” she says. I end up smearing cum up her stomach and across her breasts in a display of possession. I don’t own her, though, do I? They do, and after them, someone else will.
And I’m unsure what the hell I do now.
She said about answering a question afterwards. Can’t or won’t, she said. I don’t have answers for anything yet. Certainly not after that fuck.
“Talk, Naja,” I mutter, listening to her easing breaths.
“About what?”
I close my eyes, lean my head back. “Anything. Make yourself real to me.” Because at the moment, she feels like a dream – something I wanted and had. Fine as fuck, but that’s not enough to make me do the incomprehensible and piss on Cortez. I need more.
“Miri was supposed to start university soon.” I frown and look at the ceiling, wondering where the hell that came from. “She had her whole life in front of her, and I’m her big sister, meant to protect her. I wish they’d only taken me and spared her. Or if I was stronger, she might have been able to run.” She leans her head into my chest and reaches for my hand until it’s mingled into her fingers. “Instead, she's here and vulnerable, and I’m here with you taking a small amount of comfort.”
Comfort isn’t something I’ve ever been described as, but something about the thought resonates. Maybe we’re both taking comfort in each other. Her regarding her situation and its outcome. Me with regard to my own lacking authority around here lately. That’s a fucked-up position for both of us to be in. We’re both captives in a way – both being held fast to something without true consent. Although, I suppose I agreed to this shit. In fact, I welcomed it.
She didn’t.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she says, quietly.
“No.”
“Cousins?”
“Yes. Jamie.”
“The kind lady?”
“Jamie is anything but kind.”
“She’s been kind to us. She’s the only one that has been.” My gaze comes forward until I’m looking at her. She keeps looking out at the window. “You'd know how I feel if it was your cousin in this situation. I'm helpless. I've got nothing to fight with, Jackson.” Well, we're different there. I've always got something to fight with. Me.
The sentiment makes me smile, though, as I watch her looking outside. She's thinking she might have me, too. Clever girl. Sensible approach really. Get me hooked, make me think.
“The moon,” she says, softly.
“What?”
“It’s a full moon. We haven’t seen outside since that night on the boat. You were kind then, too. You helped me when I fell.”
“I’m not kind either, Naja. Don’t fool yourself.” I move at the premise that I might be thinking kindly about her, pissed with any new version of clarity that might be starting to wheedle its way inside my head. We're not anything other than this moment, whether I might want that or not. The main thing I’m still annoyed about is these fuckers walking all over me and treating me like domestic help.
She looks up at me from the sofa, watches me grab my shirt and get into it. So fucking pretty. And small. She sits there looking so perfect with my cum all over her and doting eyes. That might make sense to me if I wasn’t who I am, but I can’t get her out of here without exposing myself to Cortez, and I doubt I can buy her either. All that will do is make me look weaker than I already do in their eyes.
“Get dressed, Naja. Time to go.”
It only takes her a few minutes. Jeans back in place. A T-shirt and an old sweater thrown on. They’re the same ones she arrived in from what I can remember. Hadn’t noticed that before now. They’ve not even been given fresh clothes to wear other than the ones they parade around in. Branded like cattle and treated like it, too.
“So, Jackson, which is it? Can’t help or won’t?” she murmurs as she sits.
I look down as she winces because of her foot. That pisses me right off. It makes everything about that beating I took for her sister come racing back to me. I was relatively relaxed after that fuck, but now my feelings are raging back into a low-lying fury again. I’m thinking of plans, of ways that I might be able to get my own back somehow. I don’t know if that involves her or not yet, but I’m damn sure I’m not having them carry on dismissing me as immaterial to their plans.
