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Vicente is in front of me in a second. “I know more about you than you think. You thought you wanted to be in finance, and then you dropped out and decided you wanted to be a chef. You’re feisty but also submissive and your stubbornness keeps you from fully succumbing to it. You’re a beautiful girl with filthy thoughts and you think that somehow makes you ugly. You want me. You wanted me before you saw me covered in blood, even though you already knew who I was. You want me still, and you hate yourself for it. You’re mad that you know I’d kill you if it meant protecting myself, but that’s why I’m where I am. You’d be somewhere else if you weren’t always afraid of doing what was necessary, even if it wasn’t always the right thing to do. Sometimes you have to step on people, Mariella. Being selfish is okay if you pick your moments right. Why do you care about anyone else more than yourself?”
I shake my head and look past him. “You’re listing off negative traits and qualities and acting like it’s something to be proud of. You’re okay being selfish and walking all over people?”
“If they don’t want to be walked on, they should speak up.”
“I’m happy with where I am in life,” I say.
“Are you?”
I pause, because those two words that make up that question actually hold a lot of weight. How many people are truly happy with life? Don’t most of us wish for more or better? We could always use more money, less stress, someone to love, a better job, a bigger house, a newer car, a vacation, a more accepting family, and probably a number of other things. How many people have absolutely everything they could ever want?
“I’m going to bed,” I say, wanting to end the conversation. “How long is your friend supposed to stay with me? The rest of my life?”
“Until I say,” he states, unamused by my sarcasm.
I pass him and walk toward the hall. Halfway there, I turn around. “You know what? You stand there and act like you have everything you need in life, but I know there’s something you want that you don’t have.”
“And what’s that?”
“Considering who you are and what you’re capable of, after what I saw, you’d have killed me. You told me yourself you have a way of keeping people’s mouths shut. Murder is something you don’t want anyone to know you’ve committed, and since we haven’t known each other long, your best bet would’ve been to kill me right away. You didn’t, though, and that means you need me alive.”
He stares at me for several seconds before he chuckles. “Oh, Mariella. How important you think you are. You can think you’re safe because I need you alive for some secret reason, but you’re wrong. You’re alive because I want to fuck you. Nothing more.”
My lip curls up into a snarl as my brows draw in. “Well, that’s not gonna happen.”
“I’m not sure why you’d seal your fate like that,” he says, heading toward me. “If you take away the chance, then you’re of no use.” My breath halts in my chest as his hand cups my pussy. “You already admitted to everything you’d do for me. You can’t take that back.” His fingers begin rubbing circles on my clit through my pants.
He backs me against the wall, my head smacking into a photo. In one hand, I hold a plate of food while the other clutches cookies, so I can’t push him away, but I know there’s more I could do to escape him if I really wanted to. Instead, I stand there, keeping eye contact and not backing down. I try not to show any signs that his touch is having an effect on me, keeping my jaw set and eyes focused.
“Getting your pleasure by removing my say in consent doesn’t win you any favors,” I say.
He gets closer, his hand now slipping inside my pants as his mouth whispers near my ear, “You already know I’m immoral. I’m not concerned about winning any favors. We both know what you want.” His fingers find my slickness and he groans into my neck.
“P-please,” I whisper, wanting to stay strong.
“Tell Daddy what you want, and I might just give it to you,” he whispers in my ear.
My knees wobble, my eyes close, and a whimper leaves my lips.
Vicente
ChapterTen
Her cunt grows wetter at my words. She’s such a dirty girl. If only she’d own what turns her on and use it to her advantage. She’s young and perhaps still learning about her sexuality and what she likes and doesn’t like, but I already have a handle on what she enjoys.
“Think about what you want,preciosa.” I say in her ear, my finger dipping into her warmth before I spread the liquid up to her clit and rub circles. “Then learn to demand it.”
I remove my hand from her pants and step back to see her eyelids flutter open. Big, brown eyes stare at me, a mixture of hate and lust swirling in their depths. It’s my favorite concoction. I bring my fingers to her lips and she opens up immediately, licking her arousal from my digits.
“Good girl.”
She pulls away, yanking her head to the side, mad that she once again succumbed to me—to her own desires. Then she stomps toward her room and slams the door like a petulant brat. She must want to be disciplined, but not tonight. She doesn’t know she’s in a perpetual state of discipline simply for being who she is. But she will.
I go to my room and into the connecting bathroom, and pull my cock out, stroking myself to the thought of fucking her hard and rough. I want to claim her, own her, and ruin her. I want my name branded into her skin as a reminder of who I am, and I want to be the one to sear the flesh. I want her calling out my name, begging and pleading for me to make her come. I want to paint her with my release and have her absolutely devoted to me. Then, once she’s properly trained and completely ruined for anyone else, I’ll send her away. She’ll have served her purpose.
I release my load into the toilet as I think about every disgusting thing I want to do to her. My depravity knows no bounds.
After washing up, I pull the covers down on my bed and climb in, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before I’m due to be up.
