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He didn’t stop until we were back at his room, where we were now.
Before last night I’d been a dying flower. Pieces of me falling to the ground, shriveling up and disintegrating day after day. I was surviving, but barely. I’d been losing the part of myself that thrived in the sun, the lightness that came with living. But then last night, Logan awoke the woman I used to be and gave me what I had starving for.
I thought things may have changed between us.
I was wrong … The coldness had descended over him locking out everything we’d shared.
It was devastating.
And it was cruel.
“Emily.”
I jumped at his sharp tone. “Yes. Master.” I avoided his eyes, lowering my head. There wasn’t a fight left in me. He’d taken away that trickle of hope with how he reacted in the dining hall. Did he do this to me on purpose? Maybe that was why he held me in his arms, brought my body alive at night … So he could break me down in the morning, destroy me over and over again. So I could hate myself more than him.
His footsteps approached, and I stiffened, uncertain what he’d do, yet hoping he’d never physically hurt me. He’d awaken my body to his touch, but never once had he harmed me. But he let others hurt me, hadn’t he? He watched them. Did he get off on that? Had he enjoyed watching Alfonzo whip me?
It was his quiet sigh that caused me to swallow my fear. His finger touched beneath my chin, and he raised my head. He was inches away from me, and I tried to stop feeling. I tried so hard, but I failed.
“Emily.”
My heart crashed, because the way he said my name made the fear heighten.
“Don’t do it again.” He watched me for several seconds, then turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I collapsed onto the bed and cried.
It was dark by the time he returned, and I was brushing my hair after my shower while I looked out the window seeing nothing but imagining everything. As the door shut and locked behind him I turned and knelt on the floor, the brush laying forgotten beside me.
The floorboards creaked as he walked toward me then stopped.
I held my breath.
He reached down and drew me up in front of him then lowered his head. My heart skipped a beat, the pit of my stomach dropped, and my breath seized all at the same time.
His lips descended, soft and tender, as he slid his tongue inside my mouth. His arms encased me in his embrace, the hold on my body fierce and unrelenting, unlike his kiss that was sweet, gentle.
I tilted my head back, and he deepened the kiss groaning.
He nipped my lower lip then picked me up in his arms with one swoop and carried me to the bed. Without letting me go, he lowered me onto it then followed, his weight lying on top of me.
“You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
I was in a way. I belonged to him. I had sex with him. And at night I loved him, but with the rise of the morning sun came the hate for the man who was doing this to me.
“Do you want this?”
Was I weak because I craved his affection? Wanted to be stroked and caressed and loved by this man so badly that I felt dead inside without him? Did it make me pathetic?
“Emily.”
I closed my eyes and whispered, “Yes.”
He gently dragged my nightgown up and over my head; then his eyes roamed down my body, and it felt as if the tips of his fingers were trailing across my skin. I’d never thought myself pretty or attractive, merely plain and average. My mother called me “a waste of space.” But when Logan looked at me, it made me feel beautiful, and I never wanted it to end.
“Hands above your head.”
I listened, wrapping my hands around the edge of the headboard.
I knew this is what he liked—complete submission—and it was maddening, because it turned me on. I liked it. I didn’t even try to understand it.
I heard the sound of his zipper and then the rustling of fabric as he took off his clothes.
“Legs,” he ordered.
I opened my legs.
He pulled them further apart and settled between them. He groaned as his fingers caressed my breasts then my nipples, hard, and yet, Logan had this sweetness in him. It existed; I knew it did. It couldn’t just be my imagination.
“Not tonight. Not any night. Never call me Logan again.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew I’d made a mistake. I had hoped that maybe Logan was protecting me against Raul. He’d blindfolded me when Raul had come to the room that one time. Could Logan have suspected I’d crack and fight if I’d been able to see Raul’s face? Maybe that was why he dragged me out of the dining hall so fast. Or maybe I was just being absurd wanting Logan to care about me.
Then he kissed me, and the Lego blocks in my mind crumbled.
Logan’s kiss grew stronger as I submitted to him. I didn’t fight. No, I wanted to feel alive again even if it was wrong. Was it strength to submit to him because I wanted to? I was fighting for salvation, and if Logan gave me that then I won.
His fingers entered me, and I moaned. “Emily. You’re my everything.”
He drove his fingers in and out, his teeth grazing across my neck then to my nipples. He suckled and played with them then bit down, and I cried out with pain, and my hands let go of the headboard.
“Don’t move.” His voice was demanding, and I knew not to disobey, but I also heard a hint of sweet in his voice.
I put my hands back.
Logan bit me again, and this time I let the feelings flow across my body without moving. It was pain, and then pleasure came right after. It fed me. It gave me what I needed, and I awakened to him.
