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“Fuck off, Lilah.”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave.”
“Cunt.” He turned so fast the bloody room span, causing him to stumble back to the sofa to hold onto something. “You’re being a cunt. A fucking childish one at that,” she spat, turning on her heel to head out of the room.
He stared at the doorway, infuriated with her. How fucking dare she speak to him like that? He was travelling back down to the kitchen before he thought of anything else.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re calling a-“ The near blind image of something passing his head had him ducking to miss its impact.
“Cunt,” she spat, again, as another thing smashed on the wall beside his head. “I’ll knock some fucking sense into that head of yours if it’s the last thing I damn well do on this earth.” He reared back at the outburst, fists clenching in case they did something stupid. “And you can put all that attempt at masculinity away,” she shouted, hand reaching for a saucepan. “You’re not worthy of being called a fucking man.” The pan was launched, followed by another, and then another, until all hell was raining down in the direction of his skull. He smacked them away at first, irate with her, or the situation, and trying to contain his temper. “Coward,” she seethed, another something flying at him. He snarled and tried to push the anger down, tried to dampen it, but the ‘something’ was a fucking knife. He glanced at it stuck in the woodwork, then turned back to glare at her. She lifted her chin and glowered in response, another knife ready to launch. “You disgust me. Utterly fucking worthless.”
He shivered at the words, remembering his bastard of a father who used them so diligently. It caused a rage to well in the pit of his stomach, one he hadn’t felt in the years of the four of them together. Only when Pascal was around was it useable. He glowered, eyes focused on the one thing he needed – skin.
“Apologise before this goes somewhere you’re not going to like.”
“Fuck you.” She stabbed the carving knife into the wooden butchers block, twisting it to deepen the indent. “I’m not scared of you, Alex. You touch me and I’ll kill you for daring to try.” Rage and violent undertones coursed thicker, faster. He growled and blanked everything other than the body in front of him, unable to dismiss the notion of threat. Not that she was, but the diversion from all this other shit was mesmerising. She looked him over; disdain, contempt and scorn throwing its fucking weight around in front of him. Fuck her and her disapproval of his actions.
“How much does he hurt you?” He took a step forward, hands ready to grab at her the moment she moved. “Do the bruises show like Elizabeth’s?” She frowned a little – did they hell. Not once had she felt true wrath. She felt only what Pascal gave to her freely. Love made that happen. Kept things nice and delicate on her skin. “Strip.” Her brow rose, lip forming into yet more disgust. “You want to help me. Do as you’re fucking told before I take it anyway.”
“You will not. You will back the fuck off and remember your manners, Alex,” she spat, finger suddenly pointed at him as she closed the distance and got in his face. She got right in close, lips mere inches from his, and then breathed in deeply and leant into his ear. Her cheek brushed his, hand reaching for the back of his neck. “You should calm down and think about what you’re doing at the moment.” He wasn’t thinking, didn’t care to. Thinking was painful. “Because you’ll hate yourself afterwards, Alex. I, on the other hand, will feel nothing.” She breathed again, soft wisps of air fluttering over his skin. “Unless I say yes, it’s rape. Are you a rapist?” He shivered, attempting to check the temper she was only enthusing. “Is that what you want?” she whispered, moving to round his back and lean on it. “Would that make you feel better? Fucking something without permission. Being an animal?” Yes. Yes it would. He wanted nothingness again. Wanted the fucking noise to stop so he could revel in silence and nothing more.
She walked in front of him, arms suddenly outstretched and her brow arched. “No, Alex. I’m saying no.” It was all the damn consent he needed.
She crashed backwards into the cupboards, his weight on her with no thought to anything other than need. She was here, available, and offering something she damn well shouldn’t. He didn’t give one fuck for respect or decency as he hitched her up onto the surface, ripping at clothes as he did. She didn’t respond. She became like a rag doll in his hands, nothing but skin and bones for him to destroy if he chose to. The skirt left her body first, shirt ripped open as she lay on her back and closed her eyes. He drew a hand along her stomach, harshly, pressing in on the organs and hip so he could hear distress and pain in her tone. There was no noise, though. No scream or bellow of discomfort. She chuckled instead and looked at him. “Is that all you have for me?” she mused, closing her eyes after the words. “Weak. Useless. It’s no wonder Pascal has left if this is all you have.”
His hands had pushed her off the surface before he got hold of his reaction to her words, eyes watching as she tumbled to the floor and smiled up at him from all fours. “Come on, Alex. What else do you have that he doesn’t?” He grabbed at her hair, yanking it to get her to her feet, and then pulled her through the house towards the room he needed. She’d take everything for that fucking statement, take all the things he could deliver and try breathing her fucking way through it. Damn her and her ability to go deeper than Elizabeth could.
“Stupid, Lilah,” he muttered, hauling her up the stairs. She chuckled again and twisted in his hold, revving him up further. He snarled at the sound and kept pulling, enjoying her taunt and readying himself for things he should not be doing. “Fucking stupid.”
Her nails suddenly embedded themselves in his wrist, both hands digging in deep and raking to cause pain. He laughed at the sensation, gripping tighter to her hair and switching off any care at all. Now, after all these years of forbidden, he’d take without consent, regardless of whether she’d given it or not. He’d fuck until the bitch bled, not caring for the outcome or any act that came after it.
His hand let go and tossed her towards the far wall of the bedroom, a sneer coming from the way she managed to spin around and stay on her feet. She spat back at him, her arms opening again as the phlegm left her lips. “I’m saying no, Alex. Get the fuck on with it.”
Everything inside him trembled. Need, hate, complete apathy for anything that breathed or moved. Especially her with her fucking mouth and damning eyes. He half halted at the sensation, knowing what was coming, but she smirked and widened her legs as she stood there. “What’s the matter, Alex? Cat got that pretty tongue of yours?” She glanced over his body, still repulsed in her gaze. “Or are you questioning poor little Elizabeth and her dead baby.” Bitch.
He lost sight of everything with those last words, storming over and grabbing at her throat before she knew what had hit her. She gasped and gripped at his arm, her whole body tensing beneath him. It was like white noise, the sound of her gasps for breath doing nothing but egging him further into madness. She was dragged until he reached the bed, his other hand reaching for the sheet to muffle her fucking mouth, and then bent over the damn thing. Mouthy little bitch. Always was. He wrapped the sheet over her head, balling the fabric up to stuff it into her mouth.
“Fuck you, Lilah,” he growled, forcing the material in. She choked on it, her body starting to twist in his hold again. He slapped her face so hard her top half fell forward onto the bed. And that’s where she’d damn well stay until he was finished breaking her in two.
His hand loosed his own belt, yanking it from his jeans to wrap it around her wrists behind her back. One wrap, two, the fucking buckle digging into her skin. She wailed at the force of his shunting and pushing, all of the noise muffled by the sheets in her mouth. It soothed his soul, making him desperate to get inside her and fuck this pain away. She kicked her legs out at him. He didn’t know why, perhaps it was yet another attempt to wind him up. She needn’t have bothered, he was well and truly in the middle of fuck all sense and stupidity. The mist had come down. Leaving nothing but fucking and pain. She'd asked for it, given him permission to cause it.
He ripped at her underwear, stripping it off the arse on display, and then spread her legs wide as he leaned over her. Little bitch. Always goading and prying into things she didn’t fucking understand. Dommes were curious little creatures, hell bent on causing aggravation and winding up the cocks in their hands. Not this one, she would never call him to heel.
His fingers turned her face to him, hand squashing the perfected make up into the sheets. He’d fuck until there was nothing left of him. Beat this skin and find some solace in her offering. That’s what this was. An offering of hope, something to get him through the turmoil, and he slapped her arse so hard for it she choked again on impact. So he did it again, and again, all the time holding her down so brutally that she whimpered at the pain. “Does he beat you like this, Lilah?” Her eyes widened, tears leaking from them. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, unused to the feel of her, and reached for his cock. Fucking. That was all he needed.
Fucking and pain.
The sheet was pulled from her mouth by his fingers, all of it hauled out so he could hear that snappy little tongue of hers again. He needed it, needed the sound of her reproachful comments and her hate. It fuelled him in a way no one else did, made the vengeance in his blood boil and threaten more hell onto her. “Cunt,” she spat, instantly trying to wriggle free of him again. Yes, he was. A vile monster of no thought at all and fuck all care. He stuck his hand between her thighs, putting pressure exactly where she didn’t want it.
“You’re wet, Lilah.”
“Fuck you. You’re worthless.”
Four fingers went straight in, all of them with enough force that she snapped every curse she could find. He chuckled and kept shoving, lifting her up the bed so he could smother her with his weight. She kept spitting words at him and riling his blood up. Kept up with her taunts and jibes, all the time trying to stop her hips rocking against his hand. “This isn’t fucking, Alex,” she spat, her hands managing to scrape at his stomach from their binds. “Barely rape at all.” He wiped his cock through the sluice on his fingers, then began pushing his thumb at her arse. “No,” she snapped, wriggling to avoid his probe. He smiled at that sound, the slight hesitancy proving her care for that fucking hole. His cock didn’t care, nor did his mind. He’d fuck any hole he chose, her damned mouth included if she didn’t start using it better than she was doing.
“Tell me you hate me,” he mused, as he lowered his teeth to her neck. “Tell me how fucking useless I am again.” She did, beautifully. It fell from her mouth so harshly he barely heard anything but how repulsive he was, how reprehensible, and she did it with such style he forgot where he was. He was just fucking a form, his cock aching for entry it wasn’t allowed. “Stop me,” he muttered, teeth biting into her flesh. She howled at the pain, more spitting and wriggling coming from everything she had to fight with, but she didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t. She let him ease into her with no thought to stop him at all. Stupid Lilah. Reckless and impulsive Lilah.
