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Knowing Sylvia will have taken Riley her meal at seven, I wait until past eight, giving the girl an hour to make the right choice.
I finish my scotch and leave the library to climb the stairs to her room. With each step I take, I question what would please me the most. The relief of knowing she’s finally eaten a decent meal or punishing her for taking advantage of my hospitality.
When I nod my head at the guard standing outside her door, he steps to the side so I can let myself in, and I discover her laid out on her bed, sideways. Her head is resting on her hand as she reads one of the books from my library. Shocked to see me, she quickly scrambles up on the bed and tugs down the bottom of the shirt she’s wearing to cover her thighs.
She’s looking far too pale. That healthy glow she’s been developing over the past few weeks is a little dimmer, and despite it making me furious, I do my best to stay cool.
“Do you have a problem with the food that has been prepared for you?” I ask calmly, closing the door behind me and taking a step toward her. The girl almost looks vulnerable as her icy blue eyes scan me over.
“No.” She shakes her head and stares back at me blankly.
“Do you not think I have been kind in my hospitality toward you, Riley?” I question her again. This time she just shrugs, like an ungrateful little brat, and it nudges me even closer to losing control.
“You will eat,” I demand, weighing down the mattress with the knuckles of both my hands as I lean over her.
“I will not!” she talks back firmly, turning her head sideways and refusing me eye contact. Moving quickly, I grab her jaw and snap her back so her eyes meet with mine again. The urge to strike her tingles my palm, but for some reason I resist it.
“Don’t make me force you, Riley,” I warn, the tension shaking in my fingers. Despite her trying really hard to keep it from me, I can sense her fear.
“What will you do, Rafe? Have one of your men shoot me in the head or bring your blonde whore in here and fuck her right in front of me?” The tone she bites back with is as cold as her eyes.
“Eat.” I give her one last chance to make the right decision.
“Fuck you.” She scowls, but the wobble in her bottom lip contradicts the confidence in her tone.
“Fuck you,” I repeat her word with a snigger. “Fuck you.”
Crawling over her body, I push her back roughly onto the mattress, and she struggles beneath me. I’m far too strong for that to make any difference. Taking her wrists in my hands, I pin them on either side of her head and use all the strength in my thighs to anchor her hips to the bed.
“Do you realize I could have fucked you to death by now?” I whisper into her ear, making sure my lips brush against her skin. “I could have taken you over and over until your pretty little cunt bled raw.”
Riley stops struggling and looks up at me. “So why haven’t you?” she asks daringly.
Her words manage to fuel a frustration in me that makes me murderous. Mainly because I don’t have the answer to her fucking question. It’s one I’ve been asking myself over and over again since she’s been here.
I want to fuck her. I want it so bad that it hurts, but something's holding me back. Something that I know, when I figure, it out will terrify me.
“You could fuck me right now, like you did your whore.” She continues to taunt me. “Use me, abuse me, cast me away when you tire of me. What difference does it make to you if I eat or not?” she questions, searching my eyes for an answer.
I lower my head to avoid her glare. I haven’t given the smart little bitch enough credit. I should have come in here more prepared. But after a few calming breaths, I lift my head back up to her again.
“Because I make the rules here, Riley, and I’m demanding that you eat. Whether you want to or not, you do as you are told.” I stretch my body over her head and reach for the tray that rests on her bedside table. Then selecting a cherry tomato from the side salad, I bring it to her mouth, slowly trailing it, ripe and red, over her lips.
“Open,” I demand, but the defiant little thing shakes her head at me.
“Don’t test me. I will force this to the back of your throat and make you choke on it if I have to. Open your lips for me, Riley.”
I’m almost surprised when she actually does what I ask her, her lips parting slightly but hardly enough to fit the tomato between. I edge it between them, watching them stretch until it pops inside.
Riley uses the opportunity of her free hand to reach out, wrapping her palm around me and guiding my fingers deeper, holding them inside her mouth. She sucks at me so hard that the tomato explodes. Its juices slip over my fingers and drip from her lips. Her eyes pierce into mine daringly, and I swear I feel the slight rolls of her hips between my thighs. Coaxing me in a way no virgin should know how.
I pull my fingers out of her mouth, my thumb collecting the tomato juice that's spilt onto her chin and swiping it over her lips.
“Why are you doing this to yourself? You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t eat.” I sound weak, and she’ll take victory in that. But I need to know the answer.
“What do you care? I'm your prisoner, just a plaything… remember?”
She wants me to break, to feed her confidence by telling her that I do care. She wants me to admit to her that she’s different.
