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“Fine! Let me warm you up first,” he reaches for the whip beside my knee, and I brace myself for the impact as he brutally strikes my exposed buttocks. “I've missed this,” he grunts with satisfaction. “I haven't had such a wild pussy in a while. Sex has become pretty boring, but it's about to get much more exciting.”
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I jolt awake, feeling like I've just escaped a haunting nightmare.
I run to the bathroom down the long hallway and lean against the cool granite sink, puking every drop of alcohol consumed half an hour ago, along with the disgust caused by that repulsive man.
I gaze at my disheveled reflection in the mirror. My once vibrant blue eyes now seem empty and lifeless and rosé's carefully braided hair is now a tangled mess, wrapped around a red hairband. I remove the hairband, letting it rest on the edge of the sink, and run my fingers through my damp, chestnut locks, washing away the stench already permeating my ruined dress, with one strap torn and a piece of corset lace ripped.
I rinse my mouth, trying to get rid of the lingering vomit taste. My lip is bleeding, and the red marks around my arms where the sadistic man's hands had been earlier.
Who are you?
I don't recognize you anymore, my inner voice states, looking into the reflection.
I am a fighter, I straighten my back and wipe away the traces of smudged mascara on my cheeks, even after I had washed my face.
I need to escape.
The sound of slow claps draws my attention as I turn towards the door.
“You can still stand, huh? Impressive. Looks like you have some tricks up your sleeve if you got away unharmed after the session with that sadist,” Manasseh leans against the door frame, his curious eyes fixed on me.
“Your virility must be weeping at the sound of your words,” I respond sarcastically, adjusting my breasts in the ruined dress. “You must consider that pathetic old man more potent, which makes me believe you made the right choice leaving him to take care of me,” I try to look unaffected.
“I feel nauseous just thinking about it,” he spits out mockingly, and quickly fixes his hair, his expression filled with disgust.
“Nauseous? Please... even death is harder than what I did tonight.”
“Death? But you can't die, Becca,” he steps closer to me. “Not until I allow it,” his finger glides gently along my still reddened arm, his delicate touch almost surreal.
“I don't want to die,” I confess, looking up at him. “I'm actually starting to enjoy our little game,” I say calmly, my eyes tracing his lips. “It's empowering.” I playfully tug at his tie and run my hand along it, mimicking a suggestive gesture as masturbation, while he watches me with.
“Are you trying to toy with my mind, pretending to be reasonable, hoping I'll rescue you from Caius's clutches?” he retorts. “You're wasting your time. I don't want someone else's leftovers.”
“Reasonable? Weren't you the one who taught me how to fight? And for this I want to thank you.” I suddenly rise up on my toes, pulling him closer with his tie, and pressing my lips to his, and thrusting my tongue deeply into his mouth.
Manasseh seems taken aback, but I refuse to let him escape, and firmly grip his neck with both hands, my nails leaving an impression on his hot skin. I feel him shudder as my tongue seeks his, and our first kiss is so wet, like the inside of a snail's shell, as I want him to fully taste my saliva.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Manasseh exclaims, pulling back in shock and wiping his mouth to remove any lingering traces of our shared moment. “Are you trying to seduce me now?”
“Trying to seduce you?” I bite my lower lip and swallow slowly. “More like trying to repulse you,” I smirk as I wipe the corner of my mouth. “Tell me, what does your friend taste like?” I lean back against the edge of the sink, feeling strangely defiant, until Manasseh's heavy palm strikes my cheek.
“You're crazy!” I catch a glimpse of disgust in his expression amid the strands of hair falling on my face, just as the sting from his slap spreads across my cheek.
I laugh, because seeing him so rattled brings a twisted sense of satisfaction.
“Maybe I am,” I shrug, and Manasseh lunges at my throat, grabbing my hair with one hand, while the other digs into my waist, pressing me against the cold granite of the sink.
“Do you really want to drive me crazy? To provoke me until I lose control and hit you, so that everything will end easy for you? Is that what you want? Do you want to die? Fucking tell me, Becca?”
“I haven't even rinsed my mouth. I've saved it all for you,” I stick out my tongue and meet his gaze defiantly, even as his eyes darken with rage. “I disgust you, don’t I?”
“You're fucking dead to me, Becca!” he screams, shaking me violently. “Fuck!!”
Suddenly, his mouth crashes onto mine, and our lips meld in a tumultuous kiss. My body surrenders, trembling. I succumb to his skilled hands, sensing how he breaks down my walls with each strong, resolute, masculine touch. I can feel his erection pressing against my hip, as our tongues entwine in a wet, dirty dance brimming with urgency. In this moment, I let myself forget everything else, as if nothing else matters.
CHAPTER 17
