I'm keen to violent men. My father was a raging alcoholic who'd get so drunk he'd practically put me and my sister through a wall, but Levi is a different kind of violent.
He doesn't use physical force the way I'm used to. To him, it's all about mind games. So I'm ill prepared.
"N-No..."
I stutter; it's weak and soft, and I'm sure he hasn't heard it, but by the way he stiffens inside of me, I know he has. He remains still, his length a thick throbbing presence inside of me, but he doesn't move his hips.
"No?" The word sounds like a ghost of a syllable on his lips, as if he's dreamed my defying reply. As if I was expected to beg him for it like I assume most women before me have.
"No," I say, firmer than before. My heart pounds with fear as I await the violent reaction I anticipate, the forceful continuation of this sadistically erotic moment, but he surprises me. He pulls out.
I bite my lip to suppress the shivers I feel surfacing inside me. He peers down at me, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing as I hold my hands to my chest. I expect a slap, something to externalize his disappointment but he merely sucks his teeth before he whips around and stalks toward his bathroom.
I don’t know what to do. Should I scurry out of his room to mine? Do I lay here like a good little doll until he’s ready to manipulate me again? Maybe I’ll turn to dust to avoid the decision entirely. The worst part is, I feel no sorrow about the notion of turning to dust at the moment. Then again, I never did well with embarrassment. That’s why I was my fathers easy target.
I’m startled to find him lingering in the doorway to the ensuite bathroom, the sound of water running pours into the room from behind him. He’s still naked, but he moves deeper into the room and pulls his sweats back on.
“Bathroom. Now.”
Frowning, I slowly climb off the bed, taking wary steps towards the bathroom until it’s unavoidable and I’m inside. The gentle steam of a bath envelops my body, and I sigh.
“Get in,” he barks and I jump slightly, before mentally cursing myself for not playing it cool. I wade towards the bath, climbing in and lowering myself into it.
I’m unable to relax as he regards me closely and silently for a moment. His eyes glide along my skin with a scowl, like he can see the ghost of fingerprints from men who have touched me in the past. I swallow nervously and reach for the wash cloth on the edge of the tub when he shakes his head.
“Don’t,” he snaps. My fingers flex before I pull my hand back, lowering it into the water.
He doesn’t want me washing myself? I don’t understand the point of the bath then. He stalks over to me, swiping the washcloth off the side of the tub before he begins wetting it.
Does he plan on-
I shake my head. He doesn’t comment on the act as he soaps up the rag and slowly moves it toward my chest. Alarmed, my arm shoots out and I grasp his wrist. My eyes widen, realizing my mistake, before I slowly loosen my grip on his wrist.
“What are you doing?” I question. His jaw tightens, and he arches a challenging brow and I know if I don’t pull back, his calm exterior will dissipate and the monsters I’m accustomed to will emerge.
“Washing you,” he replies surprisingly. My eyes widen and I sit there, mouth slightly agape as he begins gently washing my body. It’s strange, the care he puts in to wash me, I never thought he’d handle my body so softly.
Then again, I never thought he’d pull his cock out of me at the last second.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, biting my lip nervously as his dark gaze sweeps my face once more. He drags the washcloth over my shoulders and neck, wordlessly working the soap into my skin.
“Do what,” He responds with a clipped tone. I suck on my lip, convinced it’s better to just leave well enough alone, but the brooding stare he has on me makes me too anxious to remain quiet.
“Why did you pull out? H-how did you manage?”
“How did I manage to control myself?”
Most men I know would not have pulled out. They would’ve said I owed them sex since we were in the middle of it. They would’ve taken me by force.... but not him. Why not him?
Just when I believe he won’t elaborate anymore, he speaks.
“I’ve spent the last year losing control....”
He has?
The way he says that makes my insides twist.
“I’ve been angry, resentful, sadistic.... I had to learn how to control it or I was going to destroy myself the same way I’d destroyed her....”
I’m sure I’m hearing a part of a story I’m not meant to, but by the glazed over look in his eyes, he’s lost to me.
“What happened?”
I daringly ask him, hoping maybe, for once, I can know who the man that owns me is. He glares at me when his gaze is finally back in reality and not lost somewhere in the past.
“Just as is always true, I ruin whatever good thing happens in my life. She was just another good thing that I ruined.”
“R-really?”
He finishes washing me up, before laying the washcloth on the side again, stepping back and nodding.
“Just as you will be.”
That’s unsettling. I frown up at him. I can see the tension in his body, as well as feel the dark vibrations of the air as he clenches his hands into fists.
“Where is she now?”
My curiosity gets the best of me. It’s probably his last straw. With an eye roll, he crosses his arms over his muscular chest.
“She’s dead.”