Текст книги "Hero"

Автор книги: Leighton Del Mia

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

35

I’m much calmer by dinner, and maybe even slightly remorseful for snapping at Cataline earlier. I find her in the dining room, seated and patiently waiting per Norman’s instructions. “Good evening,” I say.

She glances up from her lap. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, but then she smiles. “Good evening.”

I take my spot at the head of the table and gesture next to me. “You can sit here tonight.”

Her eyes dart between the chair and me. “Really?”

I sigh. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

She stands slowly.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, noting her limp.

“Better.”

Once she’s beside me, Norman arrives to recite the evening’s meal. She watches him with the same attention somebody would give a blockbuster show while her hands remain folded in her lap. When he finishes, dishes are set in front of us and wine is poured.

As I eat, I notice Cataline seems distant, her eyes far off, and her lips curled at the edges as though she meant to smile but forgot. She looks open, innocent, and beautiful, and I can’t resist. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

I attempt to hide my surprise. “What about me?”

“I was thinking about the first time I saw you at the office. You looked so serious, but also very . . . handsome.”

I grin. “You thought I was hot.”

She laughs and pushes my shoulder. I’m thankful my pain is completely gone, because I like when she does that. “Yes, I thought you were hot.” She sets down her fork soundlessly, and her smile falters. “I still do, Calvin.”

I inhale deeply and shake my head. “That’s a dangerous admission.”

“I know.”

“Last night you ran without a second thought.”

“It was instinct. I didn’t think. I just ran.” She cocks her head. “Does that surprise you?”

“I’ve given you whatever you ask for.”

“I thought I’d trade anything for my freedom. When you came for me last night, I was terrified of returning here, of what you’d do to me. But I was also relieved. I didn’t realize until that moment how frightened I was that I’d never see you again.”

I set my elbows on the table and look her directly in the eyes. “Cataline . . .”

“I can’t explain it,” she continues. “Sometimes I hate you, but last night, in my bed, I felt . . .” She pauses, seemingly searching for the right word. Finally, she says, “I wanted you there.”

Even as I shake my head, my resolve wavers. “I’m not good for you.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I need to stay away, and you need to stay out of my way.”

“What if that’s not what I want?”

“What are you asking me?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Last night, being with you felt right. And this morning when you left, I wished you’d come back. Neither feeling has left me all day.”

“Fuck, Cataline. Don’t say that shit to me.”

“You’re the one who started this.”

“I know. I made a mistake.” Her face mars, because she thinks I mean fucking her was a mistake. In actuality, I’m starting to see that my mistake was bringing her here in the first place. “You don’t understand how badly I can hurt you. You’re innocent and delicate, and I’m not. You saw what I did to those men. You know deep down what I’m capable of.”

“Have I broken yet?”

My eyebrows shoot up, and we stare at each other until I find the words to respond. “I don’t know. I’m too close to see what damage I’ve done.”

She pouts with a full bottom lip. “So that’s it? You just aren’t going to touch me anymore?”

I have to close my eyes when she says “touch me.” It’s almost more than I can handle. “I think I’ve made it painfully clear that I can’t stay away.”

“Are you saying that if I don’t, you won’t?”

My fingers curl into a fist on the table. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand.”

“I can’t,” I say. “Stop asking me for answers.”

She looks at her lap and shakes her head, her hair falling around her face. I want to wrap that hair around my fist and pull it until she begs for mercy. She looks wild, as though something might come out if she shakes hard enough. When she looks at me again, it’s with big eyes. Somehow, innocence remains there, even after everything I’ve done.

If I were a better man, I’d be gone by now. Something has always intertwined me with Cataline, but now I’m beyond the point where I can disentangle myself. I’ve felt her writhing underneath me, seen her look at me the way she is now, like she’s waiting for instruction. I like that look. It makes me feel like I own a small piece of her.

She rises, and I think she’s going to leave, but she inches toward my chair instead. She lowers herself into my lap, and her eyes scan my face rapidly. She reaches up with slow, tentative fingers and slides my glasses off.

“I didn’t want this,” she says. Her knuckles touch my cheek, and she runs them down my skin until opening her hand to cup my face. “But I no longer know who I am. I think . . . you’re what I want now.”

“Then it has to be with the understanding that I’m hiding things from you. Things that involve you, things that you will never learn. Things that mean the difference between your life and your death.”

“Okay,” she whispers too quickly.

I turn my mouth to kiss her palm. My hand wraps around her wrist, and I hold her there. With her eyes on mine, she bends her head and presses her lips to my knuckles before running the tip of her tongue over them. I extend my index finger, and her hot mouth closes over it, sucking up to the knuckle. She draws back, swirling her tongue over the tip, and her saliva leaves a shimmering trail on my finger. Her pink lips suck and tease me, making my cock hard for her mouth.

I remove my hand and place it between her legs, pushing her jeans up against her clit so she gasps. Her eyes flutter shut as I rub her. “What scares you?” I ask.

She looks up at the ceiling. “You.”

“What is your greatest fear?”

“You,” she repeats.

“No, I’m not.” I wind my other hand into her hair and pull so she’s now forced to stare up. “Why were you still a virgin at twenty-two?”

Her throat, completely exposed to me, contracts when she swallows. “I was waiting for the right person.”

“Never had any boyfriends . . .”

She jerks her head to look at me, but I’m still fisting her hair. “So what?”

“You’re scared to let anyone in. You hide.”

The corners of her eyes glisten. There’s more anger in her voice than I’ve ever heard when she says, “You don’t know me.”

“But I’m right.”

I touch my lips to the pulse under her jaw and kiss my way over her neck. When she speaks, it vibrates against my mouth. “You’re wrong,” she says quietly.

“You’re afraid of getting hurt.”

“I’ve lost so much,” she says. “Even things I never had. And I have no one.”

I release her hair, but she won’t look at me. “You have me,” I say.

When her eyes cut to mine, they’re filled with disbelief. “I have no one,” she repeats with conviction.

My fingers are growing impatient with her pants. The anticipation of them inside her is written on her face. “I want you too, Cataline,” I say. “I want to be the answer to your no one.”

Her voice is thick. “You won’t stay away?”

“I’ve tried, and I’ve failed. I don’t deserve you. I’ll hurt you.”

She places her hands on the sides of my head and slides them back into my hair, digging her fingers in. “Hurt me,” she says. “Just don’t stay away.”

She pulls me to her, but I’m already there, pushing my tongue inside, soothing my guilt with her hot, devouring mouth. I pulse my palm against her faster, excited by our moans.

Her hands move to my waistband and pull on the fly until it opens. She digs in my pants, and her soft fist is the answer to prayers I didn’t know I had. I’m so hard in her hand as she strokes me long and gentle.

“What, you going to jerk me off?” I growl into her mouth.

“You’re really . . . big.”

I chuckle. “Going to have to go harder than that,” I say. Her grip tightens, and her pace speeds. “You’d be the first to make me come like this. Normally I’d rather just fuck.”

She inhales with a sucking noise and stands. “Chase me, Calvin.”

I’m panting heavily, empty-handed and gaping at her. “Chase you?”

“Like last night. Like all the other nights.” She takes a step back.

“This isn’t a game. I’m strong. I can hurt you.”

She takes another step before turning and running for the staircase. I’m on my feet in a flash, succumbing to instinct and temptation outside my control. I catch her ankle halfway up the stairs, and she falls forward. I let go to carry her up to my bedroom, but she scrambles to get to her feet and her flailing heel catches me in the jaw. I seize it angrily and yank her squirming body down until she’s underneath me.

“Let me go,” she says.

I drop my body over hers and catch her neck, pulling her face backward for a hard kiss. I shove my open pants down and stroke myself, rubbing my crown against the curve of her ass. “Don’t forget you asked for this,” I say.

She wriggles harder, her hands clawing at the steps above us. The more she struggles, the harder my teeth mash together. I let go of my cock to rip her jeans down over her hips, taking her panties with them.

My arm drops from her throat to surround her shoulders and secure her back to my front. I slide my dick along the opening of her pussy, which is as slick as if she’d been sitting in it all day. While my fist slides up and down, I gather what I can on the tip and slip lengthwise between her ass cheeks.

“Calvin,” she protests.

I barely manage a response. “I warned you.”

“But not there,” she says, her words frantic.

I lean into the crook of her neck, breathing hotly as I press against the forbidden spot. I can’t do it—it would take more control than I have. I release her shoulders but catch her hips before she can get away. I move to my knees. My grip is no contest for her, and she slithers from side to side, whimpering. The sight alone is too much. I pry her cheeks apart with my thumbs and spit on her tailbone. My crown rubs through it and soon I’m working myself into her tight anus until it sucks the head in.

“Stop,” she sobs from the back of her throat. “Calvin, wait.”

The way she says my name only weakens my resolve. As she molds around me, her breathing slows, and her grip on the edge of the stairs loosens. I massage her cheeks with my palms and push a little deeper. Her eyes squeeze shut before her forehead drops onto the step in front of her. Any lubrication from my saliva is gone. My cock is so hard and aching that I want nothing more than to anchor her hips down and fuck her into the stairs. I take a deep breath. “Do you want me to keep going?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“Tell me to stop then.”

Her back rises and falls with deep breaths. I’m a few inches deep when I climb back over her, propping myself up on a step above us. I move my hips with small thrusts, each one eliciting a squeak from Cataline. Her nails dig into the hardwood as I angle until I’m over half way in.

“I’m going to mark you here and make this ass mine. I’ll come so hard that you’ll be dripping for days.”

She shudders beneath me, and I drop my face into her hair, inhaling jasmine as I draw my hips back and thrust again.

“You’ve had me in your mouth, your pussy, and your ass. I never knew you’d turn out to be such a little slut.”

“I’m not,” she says through gritted teeth.

“I’d advise against backtalk when I’m in this position. You are my little slut, Cataline. Say it.”

“Oh, God,” she cries as I pulse harder into her. “I’m a little slut.”

I nip the shell of her ear just enough to make it painful. “Wrong.”

“I’m your little slut.”

I give her a hard thrust, and her knuckles whiten. My hand covers hers, dislodging it from the step. I reach both of them down between her legs and guide our index fingers inside her. “I want to make you feel good. Do you feel good?”

“Calvin,” she moans.

I remove our hands to force her mouth open with our fingers. “Do you taste good?”

She glances over her shoulder at me. I bend my head to lick the corner of her mouth. My tongue runs over hers and then our knuckles.

“You do,” I say. “You taste so good, I could eat you and nothing else for the rest of my life. Would you like that, Sparrow?”

“Yes.”

I let go of her hand and put mine back between her legs. “Just relax. Feel it.”

She exhales a breath as I put two fingers on her clit. I start with small circles while keeping the rhythm of my thrusting hips gentle. Just underneath my chest, her body shudders, and I slip a finger down the length of her opening, coating myself with her slickness. I move back up and circle faster. My other arm burns from propping myself up, but I welcome the pain. It’s a reminder that if I let go, I’ll crush her. It’s too tempting to jam myself all the way up her ass and let her have it.

Her heavy breathing morphs into mewling as I keep a steady rhythm with my fingers. “I love you this way,” I whisper against the back of her neck. “Your body stretched out to accommodate all of my cock, bending your determination not to enjoy it. I’m going to break that, Cataline. Break you.”

“Break me, Calvin,” she whispers.

“Look at me when you say that.”

She hesitates a moment before twisting to meet my eyes. “Break me.”

Her ass rears, and I have to bite back the urge to pump her full of cum. She’s close, so I shove three fingers in her pussy and keep my thumb over her clit. Her nails claw the step, and she writhes as she begins to crack. With a loud cry, her whole body seems to contract around me.

When she finishes, I replace my other hand on the step in front of us and fuck her. I can’t tell if her sounds are from pleasure or pain, but I don’t stop. Her puckered asshole grips me everywhere, the little ridges scraping against my shaft, turning me delirious.

“God, fuck!” I thrust balls deep and come there, groaning with my mouth in her hair, pulling at it with my teeth. I remain propped up as I catch my breath, my hips slowing as her tightness milks the last few drops from me.

I withdraw from her as slowly as I can and stand. She doesn’t move while I pull up my pants. “Don’t dare me to chase you if you don’t want to get caught.”

I wait as she gingerly pushes up and gets to her feet. Her stomach and arms have red indents from the edges of the stairs, and she winces as she buttons herself into her jeans.

“I-I think I should use the bathroom.”

“You have a lot of cum in your ass.”

“Jesus,” she says, hiding her face in her hands. “Do you have to be so crude? And is that safe?”

I can’t keep the grin from my face. “You’ll be fine.”

She makes her awkward way up the steps until she reaches the landing of the third floor. I grab her arm as she turns for her room.

“Come up with me,” I say.

“To the fourth floor?”

“To my bedroom.”

She looks up the stairs and bites her thumbnail. When I ascend, she follows. Her glances around my bedroom are furtive. “Take your time,” I tell her, pointing to the bathroom. I occupy myself until she’s finished by readying the bed and locating a bottle of lotion. When she emerges, she comes to a stop in the middle of the room.

“Strip,” I order.

Her teeth chew at her bottom lip, and her eyes go wide and watery. She looks at the bed and then back at me, shaking her head and wiping her cheeks with the palms of her hands. “Again?”

“It’s not what you think,” I say with a frustrated sigh. “Just strip.”

I undress all the way with her and kick my clothing aside. Her panties are the last thing to go, and she tosses them into the pile. She waits, wringing her hands, for my command. Silent tears track over her cheekbones and down to the corners of her lips. Naked, crying, and striped red from the stairs, I realize just how much power she has over me. She’s still the little girl from years ago who needs me, but she’s also an erotic, extremely fuckable woman.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

“I’m not.”

I laugh, and her lower lip trembles harder. With a sigh, I walk to close the space between us. I put my arms around her but she remains unmoving, breathing in stuttering gasps against my chest.

“I know that hurt,” I say.

“Yes, but . . .” She wipes her nose and looks up at me. After a moment, she just shakes her head. “Never mind.”

I pull her closer. “It’s okay to like it, Cataline.” I rub her back and squeeze her shoulder. “Go lie face down on the bed.”

She looks defeated as she gets into position. “I can’t stop thinking about that woman.”

“Which woman?”

“The one you had in here that night. And Lyla and the prostitutes.”

I grunt and get on the bed to straddle her. “They’re worthless sluts. Don’t waste a thought on them.”

She sighs with her eyes closed as I spread lotion over her upper back. “Like me,” she says. “I like what you do to me. I’m a slut.”

I press my thumbs between her shoulder blades and run them down her back. “You’re not them,” I tell her, but I don’t think she hears. I clear hair from her back and massage her shoulders.

When she’s fallen asleep, I put her under the covers. I climb in, and she slides up next to me, pressing the length of her body against mine.

“Calvin,” she says, running her hand over my bicep.

“I’m here.”

“What happened to your parents?”

A personal question is the last thing I expect after the way I just stripped her bare. My hope that she’s dreaming aloud fades when her eyes open. Tentatively, she moves her cheek onto my shoulder. When I don’t stop her, she places her head on my chest.

“They’re dead,” I say.

“I know. Norman told me. But he didn’t say how.”

I sigh deeply and look out the window across the room. I decide it’s time to have a talk with Norman, seeing as how she has him wound around her little finger. “My dad was a chemist. They were killed in a lab explosion.”

“Oh. Your mom too?”

“She was a doctor, but they were together.”

“How old were you?”

I glance down at the top of her head. “Young.”

She’s quiet for a minute, and her fingers mindlessly trace circles in my chest hair. “I was young too.”

I swallow but don’t respond. I know exactly how old she was. Every single detail about that day is burned into my tired memory.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she says. “I have no one. I haven’t for so long. Nobody to love me, and nobody to love.”

The words are on the tip of my tongue. You had me. I was there. It’s only the beginning of the truth.

“Calvin?” she whispers.

I run my hand over her smooth, damp cheek in hopes of lulling her to sleep.

36
Cataline

Calvin’s hand stopped its caress hours ago and was replaced with the equally reassuring rise and fall of his chest. I’ve grown accustomed to not sleeping, but tonight it seems impossible. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted to being unloved, even to myself. I didn’t do it for his pity, but if the situation were reversed, I’d ask him questions about his past until the sun came up.

But what reason do I have to think he would care? He’s shown me that my opinions don’t matter by taking my voice away. Why do I crave his approval, his affection? Why do I want to hold the hand that holds me down? Kiss a mouth that calls me “slut”? And why does being his little slut excite me to the point of losing all my inhibitions? He took my body in a moment, but my mind and heart have been a subtle conquest. I’m just his prisoner, but he’s my captor, my monster, and my hope all rolled into one. I can’t sleep because all I can think about is how I can possibly be falling in love with a man I hate almost as much as I fear.

* * *

I know I should be alarmed. While Calvin is away on business, my thoughts are consumed by him. My routine consists of eating, sleeping, reading, and fantasizing. I’ve masturbated in the library with the door open because I’m so overcome. Each fantasy gets rougher until finally I’m just replaying memories as I make myself come: Calvin possessing my mouth, fucking my ass with a candle, whispering hot and dirty in my ear. But anything less won’t do anymore. Something dark has been shocked to life in me, and it’s slithering around, claiming things it has no right to.

I never know when Calvin will return, and this trip is no different. So when I hear his voice rumbling in the kitchen after being gone over a week, I jump up from my library chair and sprint to meet him. I don’t even make it to the doorway before colliding with him and falling at his feet.

“Christ, Cataline. Where are you running to?” Calvin asks as he gives me a hand up.

“To you,” I say, rubbing my behind. “I missed you.” I jump up, and he catches me under the ass with lightning speed. I litter kisses over his cheek until I reach his ear. “A lot.”

He repositions my body by bouncing me with his pelvis. “This is not the homecoming I was expecting.”

“Didn’t you miss me too?” My mouth seeks his, stopping just an inch away. My breathy words land directly on his lips. “Fuck me.”

“What?”

“And make it hard.”

With his heel, he slams the library door shut. “Is that a dare?” he asks, walking me backward.

“It’s a plea.”

“A plea? I think I’d like to hear it again.”

“I’m all yours, Calvin. Fuck me like you—” I gasp when my back connects hard with the bookshelf.

“Shit. Sorry. That hurt?”

I open and close my mouth, taken aback. Isn’t that what we’re doing here? Doesn’t he want that? “Um, no?” I say. He arches an eyebrow. “I mean, yes.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I incline my head to shut him up with a kiss, but he pulls away. “Calvin, please. I need this. I need you.”

“Sparrow . . .”

I look into those green eyes, searching for the man inside. Lately I’ve been wondering if I was right all along about what he needs and who he could be.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” he says. “I can’t be that for you.”

“You’re wrong.”

He shakes his head. “You know what I am. Nothing has changed.”

“I don’t understand you,” I say. “Sometimes I think you only want to hurt me, but other times I think you could . . . maybe love me.”

His eyes drop to my collarbone, but he looks up again after a second. “This might end one day, Cataline, and it could be soon.”

“I want it to end. But not all of it. Not . . . you.”

“If it does,” he says, “you’re going to meet a normal man who would give up the world for you.”

“You wouldn’t? Give up the world for me?”

His head cocks. “That’s not my choice to make.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you have that choice? And why couldn’t you love me? If this is ending, what—”

“For Christ’s sake, Cataline. I haven’t even unpacked from my trip.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just here all day, thinking. Without answers. If you could just tell me something, any—”

“Fuck.” He pulls me away from the shelf and drops me roughly on my feet. “I’m trying here,” he says, adjusting his pants.

“No, you’re not. I don’t know what’s going on between us, I can’t explain it, but can’t you feel it? Can’t you, Calvin?”

“You’re pushing me. I’m beginning to think you do it on purpose.”

“I have no choice!”

“Yes, you do. You could keep your mouth shut like I’ve asked you to and do what I say. Instead you intentionally push my buttons and make me the asshole. Is that what you want? For me to play asshole so you can whine about being shut up in a mansion being catered to all day?”

“I never asked for any of this. I want—”

“What do you want? Tell me. Which Calvin suits you? Because being an asshole is a hell of a lot easier than—”

“I want you to be you and I think what you are is an asshole and I think I love you!” I clamp my hand over my mouth. The ensuing silence is excruciating as he stares at me, horror written on his face.

“You what?”

I cover my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Nothing,” I whisper. “Nothing.”

“I’ve told you, this can’t be anything other than what it is. Goddamn it, Cataline. How could you do this?”

My mouth falls open, and my hands cover my churning stomach. “Do this?”

“You’re acting crazy.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes,” he says, and I flinch. “I do mean it. Can’t you see how fucked up that is?”

“That’s all I see, Calvin. But you made me this way.”

He turns his back to me. He scrubs both hands over his head before kicking a club chair into the bookshelf. Books teeter and fall, he storms out, and then there’s nothing but silence.

* * *

As soon as my eyes open, my brain turns on. The library is dim, and someone, Norman, has covered me with a throw blanket. In the late hour, I’m prey for memories from earlier—my overwhelming need for Calvin, his vicious words, my artless confession. I trace the outline of a heart on the blanket as my mind wanders.

Eventually I ease out of the chair to return to my bedroom. The corridor is cold and devoid of light, but voices float down from the fourth floor. My ever-present craving for answers flares. It still outweighs everything else, including any notions of love. I know it’s dangerous. I know it has the power to destroy.

I’m climbing the stairs without another thought, making my way down the hallway to the door opposite Calvin’s room. When a floorboard groans underneath me, I freeze, waiting for my heart to calm. I approach the doorway with caution. It’s closed, and I can’t decipher anything through the bass of Calvin’s voice.

If he catches me, I can’t be sure he won’t lock me up again, but the possibility of information is worth it. I mold myself into the corner next to the door and squat down to wait. For what, I don’t know.

Calvin’s voice stops and starts, as though he’s on the phone. The door opens without warning, spilling light into the hallway.

“It’s downstairs,” Norman says. “Give me a minute.”

Norman leaves the door ajar. There’s soft clicking from the room as I stand slowly but deliberately, wrap my hand around the doorframe, and incline my head through it.

What I see causes breath to stick in my throat, zaps my saliva, leaves me bone dry. Blood drains from my muscles as the resolve to stay upright vanishes. The world undulates, flips over, is somehow upside down. The pain of my nails digging into the wood tells me this is real. Calvin holds a mask. The charcoal, pebbled rubber covering his body looks unexpectedly soft and forgiving this close. He’s dressed in a uniform I’ve seen glimpses of in the media but even if I hadn’t, I would still know it. He’s dressed exactly like Hero.