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“Not in love, just hungry and bored,” he shrugs. “You are what I need right now. Don't flatter yourself. I don't have romantic relationships.”
“Good, because I'm not a fan of relationships either” - and that's mostly because of you, I think and clench my fingers into fists – “A child is not a tool that you can use, then throw away when you're bored and don't need it anymore. A child is born out of love, it is a permanent miracle, a joy, the fruit of true love.”
“Wow, let me guess? Is that what dad, the London hooker fan, used to preach when I was in high school? Maybe he still does it now. We should go to one of his services and ask him. It was fun last time,” he grins, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
“Go to hell!” my fists start to tremble, muffling a hard desire to punch him.
“They’ve had enough of me too,” he waves his hand and refuses to take his eyes off me. “Maybe it would be a good idea, after all” – his gaze falls on my womb again – “the kid…”
“Get those sick thoughts out of your mind! I won't let you ruin anyone's life anymore. A child isn’t a game!”
“Tell that to my mother,” he grins bitterly, and shakes his head, looking at the ground.
His mother... that must be the reason why Manasseh turned against her. I always got the impression that the bitch Anabella used him to get Dan Morgenstern to marry her.
“I am sor…” I bite my cheek and glance to the side.
“I was joking, piggy,” Manasseh interrupts me. “I can't stand children. They are dirty, noisy and passion killers. Goodbye sex after you have them, and I just started playing with you. I don't want to share you with anyone right now.”
This reminds me of the conversation with that nasty businessman. I grab his hair and prop myself into his chest, raised on my tiptoes.
“If you ever treat me like a breeding mare again, you'll be sorry!”
“I get so hard when you try to act tough. Want to switch roles? I'll let you ride on top, but I hope you know how to handle the reins”. His eyes look at me with such desire that my breath starts to quicken, and my thighs cling together as Manasseh's fingers tighten around my wrist. “Are you ready to become the predator, after being the prey?”
“I will never be an easy prey for a bad hunter!” I refuse to give in to him, but I can feel he's thoroughly enjoying observing my futile efforts to assert myself in front of him.
“Who said I'm the hunter?” The enjoyment is evident in his gaze. “I'm the butcher, love!” He straightens up and forces me to lean against the edge of the tub.
Manasseh is big, way too big for me.
“Get out! I want to clean up.”
“Hmmm,” he leans forward slightly and assesses me, biting his lower lip. “Does the thought of bearing my kids scare you that much?”
“You don't scare me that easily!” I say back, but the truth is my heart is pounding.
“Then I say let's not waste any more time,” his hand wraps around my neck, and his lips draw closer to mine.
“Let go of me, Masse!” I urge him in a thin voice, avoiding his gaze, being hit with our reflection in the huge mirror on the adjacent wall.
“They say it's bad luck to look at yourself in the mirror at the same time as someone else,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. “I think you're in trouble, little piggy!”
“Bad luck is nothing new to me,” I whisper, and I continue to fix our reflection in the mirror, while his hands travel freely over my body.
I can't help but notice the way droplets of blood ruin the hem of my tattered dress, or the fact that it's become a burden for the cups to support my breasts that glisten in the dim light, full of sweat, or his crumpled shirt, stretched tightly across the intense tension of his shoulder blades, asserting itself in front of me, my eyes landing on his scarred athlete fingers, as they grip my throat like a rope, looking so fragile in his grip that I feel like he could strangle me at any given moment.
It's not his size that impresses me, but the way my body reacts to his massive frame. His scent is the sweetest poison, a mix of perfume, tobacco, and fresh sweat. I'm hypnotized, I pull him closer and bite my lips hard, closing my eyes and allowing my weight to rest on the edge of the tub. Right away, the grip around my neck intensifies, as his fingers tighten, and with his free hand, he catches my waist.
“Easy there, love,” I sense his tight hold, not letting me go. “Don't do this to me, Becca!” he mutters amidst gasps, as I open my eyes and catch the redness in his cheeks and the dilated pupils. “Don't show me weakness, because I only know how to exploit it. I can't hold back. When I smell blood, I sink my teeth in.”
“You said you're the butcher. I thought you cut and hanged...” I whisper, feeling close to a burn out, and I don't know if it's from lack of food, the stress from the recent past, or from him. “Fuck! I'm so exhausted...”
“And I am so hungry!” - he pants heavily, and I feel his erection pressing against my thigh – “I’m ready to put you on all fours against this tub, and tirelessly pump into you, enough for you to lose control, and for me to lose track of orgasms, eager to give you another one, until you open up completely and let me penetrate you deep, down to your womb, making sure that it catch it on the first try,” he puts his hand under the cold water jet, wetting my face.
I can't breathe. All I feel is his intoxicating breath and the pulse throbbing somewhere below my abdomen, where a vortex of heat surfaces within me every time he speaks dirty to me.
“You can't be that bad...” I'm brought back to my senses by the cooling sensation of his hands that are now smoothing my blonde hair.
