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I smile and keep my eyes closed, ignoring that name he’s using. I’m not arguing while this is carrying on. This is too dreamy for arguments and heated words. “I don’t like you very much.”
He doesn’t?
I giggle again and listen to him huff, the sensation on my skin disappearing at the same time. The loss makes me roll onto my side and tuck my hands under my cheek, eyes opening slowly to look at him. He’s leant back away from me, his arms splayed out on the side of a chair, and all his width on show. A light dusting of dark hair trails his stomach, muscles taut under it, as he breathes even breaths and looks at me.
“Where’s the feather, Malachi?”
“What feather?”
“The feather on my skin?”
He stares, little to no reaction to the question but eventually huffs again regardless of the slight smile gracing his face. “Believe it or not, Mrs Tanner, my hands are capable of more than pain.”
Oh.
I stretch again, letting my legs revel in the luxurious fabric draping my skin. Silk maybe. Or satin. And then I realise all the leather strapping has gone from me. I’m naked again, but for my panties. I glance around slowly, taking in another bedroom. Larger than the one I was in with Gray. More opulent if that’s possible. Malachi’s bedroom presumably. Suits him.
“I still don’t like that name being used. I’m no longer her,” I murmur, watching him watch me.
His lips twitch, as if the very fact that I don’t is what makes him use it all the more. “I know. I’m using it because you don’t. It’ll make you not like me. Which you shouldn’t.”
“I shouldn’t?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Vein in faces, Mrs Tanner.”
I laugh at that, not caring if I should like him or not, and I roll to sitting. What does it matter here anyway? There are no veins prominent in his face now, and everything’s barely coherent regardless of if they’re there or not, anyway. It mostly feels like I’m part lucid rather than living any usual reality. Perhaps I’m not. That’s the reason for this place after all.
I shift to the side of the bed, taking the sheet with me and dropping my feet to the floor so I’m in front of him. Maybe I’ll sleep with him now, enjoy a new type of torment. That’s why I’m allowed to stay, isn’t it?
Malachi gets what Malachi wants.
I smile and lean towards him, my gaze taking in his quiet form in front of me. Nothing like Gray.Gray.I frown and move back a few inches, looking at my body and remembering something downstairs. Maybe not. I don’t know.
“Problem, Mrs Tanner?” No. I don’t think so.
I look back at him and mull him over in my confusion, comparing them both. He’s more relaxed than Gray, as he casually sits there wondering what to do with me. I don’t know why he’s wondering about anything. We’ll just have some pills like all the rest of this has been, live these moments and enjoy, just like I did with Gray. When was that? I was … I look at the door, wondering how I got in here, and my thighs scrunch together as I try to think. Memories of his face in front of me start bedding into my thoughts, his hands on my skin and his cock buried deep inside me. Strong. Harsh. Lips, too. Possessive lips. They ate me, moulded themselves around me and devoured, as I sat on his lap and rode him.
“Again, Hannah.”
My hand goes to my neck, searching for bite marks. He bit me, marked me and ripped into my neck as his come pulsed inside me. The thought makes me frown again and run a finger over the ridge of teeth marks. I don’t belong to anyone while I’m here, don’t belong to anyone full stop. I am alone. Singular. And Gray isn’t here now. Malachi is. And he’s being nice to me, soft and gentle.
I stare at him, unsure about him. It’s an interesting development from the last time when he shackled me to a wall and beat me with something. Or made me perch on top of the roof and spin.Malachi says.Still, my fingers keep rubbing, feeling something deeper inside than the thought of Malachi anywhere near me.
“What did your husband do before he died to make you so annoyed with continuing to use his name?” My hackles rise, body going rigid, and I glare at the features delving into areas I’m not willing to discuss.
“I’m not talking about that,” I snap, turning away from him. “Where’s Gray?”
“Playing with someone other than you.”
A wash of anger surges through me that I have no right to feel, followed by a wave of despair crashing. “He wouldn’t.”
I stay rigid, eyes staring through Malachi’s face and imagining Gray’s foreboding outlook laughing at me. No. He wouldn’t. Playing with someone? He might watch, but Gray doesn’t touch anyone. Only me. He only touches me. He said that. Told me.
When?
