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Despite not being sexually active, I'd mostly kept my nether regions well groomed. For some reason, I held on to that. Maybe it was my way of attempting to see this in a less humiliating way. At least it was a distraction to think about, since I would be on display. A small bit of relief came when Armon didn't make me remove his white, collared shirt I wore.
The door to the immaculate home was unlocked when we arrived. He led me across the foyer to the bathroom. "Get yourself freshened up, Sweet One."
It seemed unwise of him to trust any distance between us. Though, I wouldn't get far if I tried to escape. Maybe it was a hope of his that I would attempt to run.
No doubt my expression held the disgust I felt for being ordered to clean up for more public fucking. But what choice was there? He would certainly give me a choice, but it seemed I always preferred the first option of him more than any other cruelty. After I'd taken care of business and thoroughly washed his cum from between my legs, I came out to the foyer where he waited for me.
The feeling of his hand when he took mine was what one would expect of two young lovers; a gentle clasp and slow stroll. He led me to the right, past the entry to a spacious room with a long mahogany table. Eight plates sat with prepared steak or salmon and vegetables on them, but not one had been touched. Nor had silverware or napkins been moved from the right of the dishes.
Armon found a bottle of wine on a serving table and took two long-stem glasses in one hand, pouring until they were half full. He sat with them at the end of the table, where he lowered onto a high-backed chair. It only took his bidding glance for me to go to the seat where he placed one of the wine glasses by a plate of salmon and vegetables.
"Where is everyone?" I asked about the guests who hadn’t arrived, uneasy about what would happen. I knew we were still in my country from a roadside sign I saw during the drive. Where we were in comparison to my home, I wasn’t certain.
"We will see them soon enough." An odd gaze of his looked me over. I’d like to say it was concern and he wouldn’t subject me to more of his cruel games. That would only be a wishful lie to myself. He continued, "I know you're hungry, so eat."
I glanced down to the plate and took the fork, uneasy about relaxing and eating in front of Armon. He wasn’t someone I cared to piss off, so I ate in a silence that was only disrupted by the scrape of my fork on the plate.
He didn't touch the meal in front of him, and he pushed his steak knife across the table far from my reach. I knew better than to give it another glance as he spent his time watching me or the wine he sometimes swirled, usually with a scowl when he gazed at the glass. The behavior was slightly unnerving, as though it was a look of contempt he held for me but wanted to keep up the nice guy act. As time continued, I began to fear what he intended and lowered my fork, eyes flicking to the knife before looking around at the surroundings.
Before my mind could wander to how I might possibly dare a desperate escape from whatever he had planned, he sighed. The simple act returned my wary attention his direction. His fingers tapped the tabletop, and he smiled, but it was a coy smile. One with a delight that came from something sinister. Something I knew to dread before it was spoken.
I stopped chewing and swallowed. "Is this where you plan to torture and kill me?" It was a fair question given his new behavior.
He raised his eyebrows, and a huff of humor escaped him. A steady gaze went into the wine he raised to his mouth, then he lowered it. "Now, my Sweet, whyever would I kill you?" That only left torture if he didn't plan to kill me.
"Because you hate me."
"I don't fuck women I hate." He finished his wine. The response provided no assurance of my wellbeing. There was plenty left unsaid.
"Is this where you plan to torture—" I stopped myself. He chose his words carefully, and he'd already said he wouldn't hurt me. "Have me tortured?"
Again, he appeared humored. I hated him even more for having that handsome face that had lowered my fear in the coffee shop. The million-dollar smile that had re-emerged to taunt me. A serpent, that was what he was. One that had slithered into my life.
"Sit in front of me," he said as he moved his plate to the side. The only good thing about this order was that there would be no way he could get an erection after the number of times he'd already filled me with his seed.
I got up and went to stand in front of where he sat, a bit too far from the knife he'd pushed from reach. At his waiting expression, I lowered onto the edge of the table, trembling from his hidden intent.
Both of his hands rose to grip my thighs, first to glide outward over my curves, then to go inward and spread them, exposing my core that was unadorned except with crotchless panties. “I enjoy the sight of your pleasure you attempt to hide.”
His touch crept to my slit. Someone, probably many someones, had shown him how a woman loved to be touched. He maintained the gentleness, and his stare set on mine in a way that had me blushing. Stupid and unable to control my bodily responses to his stroke over my nub, my eyes widened, and breath hitched. He knew I desired it.
"You haven't offered to suck my cock yet," he said, fingers dipping into the wetness I couldn’t prevent.
I couldn't hide the gasp he elicited, but that didn't mean I would let him maintain that arrogant smirk of his. That knife he’d pushed away may have been out of reach. It might not be if he decided to push me backwards and mount me. Whether he made my body feel good or not, it didn’t outweigh how evil he already proved to be.
"I don't ever intend to suck anything of yours unless I'm forced to do so."
"Not even if I asked?" He lowered from his chair onto his knees, mouth tickling along my inner thigh to join the slow rhythm of his hand. “Not even if I sated your hunger like this?”
Chapter Eleven
My chest caught in a shudder. He continued toward my core until his heated breath flowed over my moistened cunt.
I replied, "I would never want to suck the dick of someone I hate."
"Your cunt is always too responsive for me to believe that lie." His mouth wrapped my nub, lightly sucking as his warm tongue gently lapped. Such a marvelous touch by an enemy who knew how to shatter a mind. Maybe he slowly toyed with me to chip away at my sanity slowly.
I saw the knife, wanted it, but wanted to feel the bliss of Armon's mouth. I reached behind, causing his eyes to meet mine. I grabbed my glass of wine.
