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“Fuck, fine. What do you want?”
Teddy’s smile grows brilliant, and she pushes off the wall, coming up to step right in front of me.
“One kiss,” she says, looking up at me with those big green eyes. “One kiss, and I’ll open the door for you and leave you to your bath.”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay,” she replies. My eyes drop to her lips, slightly parted, and I feel myself start to get hard. When I bring my gaze back up to her eyes, I see none of the malice that has marred her features for so long. Instead, hunger and desire blaze through.
Scowling, I start to turn away, but my body won’t let me deny the pull. I turn quickly, grabbing her face in my hands and pressing my lips forward.
Fucking explosions.
Her lips taste sweet and salty, the perfect intoxicating balance that is just as soft as I always imagined. For a moment, it all melts away as our mouths clash together passionately.
I am not Branson, and she is not Teddy. Together, we’re somehow so much more.
I push her away with my chest heaving, my cock straining against my pants. I turn. My arm finds a wall to keep myself upright from the wave of dizziness that her touch brought. My eyes clench shut as I try to keep back the self-loathing, the feeling of failure for wanting, for loving, my abuser.
Teddy has always been my weakness, but I need to be fucking strong now. I am done with being pushed around.
I hear her footsteps fade down the hall, only to come back a moment later accompanied by a faint jingle. When I look up, Teddy is crouched over, picking at the lock. The door clicks open and she turns, looking up at me.
“Enjoy your bath,” she says, her voice soft. Then she turns and walks back down the hall, closing her bedroom door behind her.
I stare after her for several minutes, my lips still burning from her touch. It takes everything in me not to rush down this hallway and take her now. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and let myself calm.
When I open my eyes again, it’s with steely purpose.
No more mind games, no more captivity.
Time to actually live.
???
It takes me a good while to properly wash, and honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as clean as I do now. My hair has always been long, and the feeling of the close cut—the air on my scalp—is somehow invigorating. I’ve never been much of one to grow a proper beard, but the scruff that decorated my face is now gone, courtesy of a fantastic little blade I decide to keep with me. When I finally step back and look in the mirror, it's a different person looking back at me.
Scars and marks still decorate my skin, the fucking collar around my neck still mocking me, but it really is me. As I’m looking in the mirror, I realize I have another problem. I haven’t had real clothes in, well, ever. My eyes drift over to Jane’s dresser, but the thought of touching anything of hers makes my skin crawl even more than the thought of putting on the rags that I wore before.
Looking down at my nakedness, I shrug. I wrap a towel around myself and head down to the kitchen.
Next, real fucking food.
Familiar as I am with the kitchen, it takes me little time to get all the ingredients I need on the counter. I feel somewhat peaceful doing these routine actions, even more so with the knowledge that I am doing it for myself. My mind drifts back to Teddy and I instinctively start to wonder if she’s hungry. I immediately shove the thought from my mind.
Fuck her.
