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And I can’t help but pull at the rope. Twist my wrists, trying to break free.
His response to that, in a very matter of fact tone, only makes it worse. “I told you not to do that.”
“You told me? You…” I take a deep breath. “Untie me. Now.”
“No.”
“Ledger,” I tell him, my entire body shaking. “Untie me right now.” When he simply keeps staring at me, I continue, “You can’t leave. You can’t —”
“While I appreciate the spirit of revenge and deserve every bit of it from you, I’m also not going to let you fuck me over.”
“But I just told you I’m not—”
“Yeah, I’m having a little trouble believing you.”
“God, Ledger. Please, okay?” I pull at the rope again. “Let’s talk about this. Let’s —”
“As much as I enjoy bantering with you and your constant babbling, I think I’m going to pass. Because I don’t think we’ve got anything to talk about. We —”
“That’s not true,” I burst out, straining against the rope. “That’s not… We do have things to talk about. We —”
“Because what we came here to do doesn’t involve a lot of talking, does it? It does involve your mouth though. But only to the extent where I tell you to open it so I can stick my dick in and throat-fuck you like the treasured, cherished whore you are.” I go to say something but he gets there first. “But I don’t want you to worry, yeah? I’ll still nut where I’m supposed to. Can’t waste my load down your throat when I’m saving it for your fertile little pussy, can I?”
I try to speak but again, he gets there first. “But if you interrupt me again while I’m talking, I may have to change tactics and come down your throat after all. Just to teach you a lesson. Which can start right now if you like. Instead of breakfast and soothing your hurting cunt, I can give you a belly full of my cum and a sore fucking throat. And since you’re tied up, you won’t be able to do anything about it. So I suggest you shut your fucking mouth, keep the talking to a minimum and be a good girl for me. Or you won’t get my cum where you really want it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Her Beautiful Thorn
I shouldn’t have done that.
I shouldn’t have tied her up in the first place and then left her there, screaming and crying.
It takes running about seventeen laps around the woods and chopping enough wood to last through this winter, if not the next, for my anger to calm down.
I knew it.
I knew before she even told me that she’d been hiding something similar. I knew that whatever it was, it would make her run. Take her away from me. Not that she’s mine to keep, but yeah. And I wasn’t lying when I said that I understand her need for revenge. I even admire that she tried to put me in my place.
I deserve nothing less.
What I don’t deserve is her forgiveness.
Especially when she doesn’t even know what my true crime is. She doesn’t even know that I had something far worse than revenge on my mind that night. That I wanted to trap her. Wanted to entwine her life with mine, tie her to my selfish, sorry ass. Despite knowing that I’ve got nothing to give in return.
But that’s not important right now.
What’s important is that she’d go to him. She’d all but admitted that.
If she left here, she’d go to that little shitstain from the restaurant.
Someone better than me.
Someone who hasn’t hurt her the way I have. Someone who knows how to take care of her, who knows how to love her the way she wants to be loved, the way she wants to be cherished. Someone better to give her the dream that she’s been harboring all her life. Someone whose life, whose career isn’t such a mess.
And I can’t let her do that.
I can’t let her go to him.
Not yet.
One day, yes. But not now.
Not until I give her her dream.
And hopefully by then, I will have figured out a way to let her go. But yeah, not now.
And speaking of career, I need to do something.
It’s something that I’ve been thinking about ever since I brought her here.
Actually even before that.
Maybe the night she told me about her dreams and I decided that I’d be the one to give them to her.
Standing under the afternoon sun, sweat dripping down my neck and my bare chest, I whip out my cell phone from my running pants and dial the number that I’ve dialed countless times before but never thought I’d be dialing it again so soon.
Especially after avoiding his calls and texts for weeks.
He picks up after one ring as if he’s been waiting for my call all this time.
