Chapter23 Clean Up
But this wasn't even some deserted wilderness. This was the yacht's elevator—one of the busiest ones. Guests and staff could come and go at any moment.
Caius still hadn't pressed a floor button. Which meant anyone could walk in from outside at any moment and catch them having sex...
Linnea's brain was already in chaos, with only primitive shame spreading through her mind. She cried and shook her head. "Don't do this..."
"Why not?"
That scorching tongue wrapped around the bite mark on her neck again, as if savoring the process of marking his prey once more. The wet sensation pressed against the back of her neck, sliding down toward the unbuttoned collar, disappearing into that barely visible gap...
Linnea pushed hard against his head. It was useless. She had no choice but to beg through her tears, her voice barely a whisper. "I was wrong, Caius. I admit it. Can we go back to the room? Back to the room, and you can fuck me, fuck me until you're satisfied, okay?"
"Sounds like quite the sacrifice on your part."
His head buried deep in her chest, attacking her most sensitive spot as he teased in a muffled voice, "But who said you get to call the shots now?"
Linnea's brain turned to mush.
The intense stimulation made her release excessively, and at some unknown point, a deeper, duller pain invaded her mind. The two sensations intertwined, leaving her exhausted. All she could hear was Caius's low whisper in her ear.
"Feels humiliating, doesn't it? Good. That's exactly what I want. I want you to remember this feeling of shame. Let the sense of transgression wash over your brain. That way, you won't wear torn dresses showing your underwear and parade around in front of other men..."
Linnea cried. She remembered five years ago.
Also on a yacht, also disheveled. She had been exposed in her ugliest state during sex, and he had been her accomplice.
But five years ago, when everyone called her a whore and humiliated her, she had still hoped that the man she'd actually been intimate with would appear in the crowd to defend her.
Five years later, the one treating her like a whore was the very man she had once fantasized could "save" her...
She murmured, "It wasn't my fault..."
Resentment and sorrow flooded her heart. But she couldn't complain, couldn't reveal it.
Caius didn't know what she was thinking. He just assumed she was defending herself.
But her defense was meaningless. In fact, after that initial furious bite, as he inhaled the unusual fragrance mixed with the scent of blood from Linnea's neck, his rationality had already returned.
Of course he knew Linnea wasn't stupid. She wouldn't climb into another man's bed. Besides, didn't she like him?
All of this probably wasn't her fault. But so what? He was furious right now. He just wanted her to submit.
He began tearing at her collar, ripping that gap wider until it was even more indecent, and then...
"Get off me!"
A desperate roar interrupted his actions.
Caius froze, not looking up. "Are you cursing at me?"
He still took it as coy resistance, begging for mercy.
"Why can't I?" Linnea sobbed as she shouted, struggling. "Don't touch me, you crude beast, murderer, devil..."
She struggled so violently that Caius had to re-grip her bottom to keep her from falling.
Linnea curled up in his arms, crying and cursing him, calling him rough, temperamental, completely inconsiderate.
Caius stared at her trembling lips, listened for a moment, then concluded she was sincerely criticizing him.
He was somewhat surprised. "You usually have a lot of opinions about me." He had never imagined that the little cat who was normally somewhat obedient would turn around and curse at him after making a mistake.
Caius was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, a chosen one. From childhood, countless people had fawned over him. He had only ever been scolded by his father, and now he had long since repaid that disgusting feeling to his father many times over.
And now, Linnea dared to curse him. This was undoubtedly trampling on his authority.
"Linnea, you'd better sober up quickly." He lowered his head and kissed her lips, easily cutting off her cursing. "Otherwise, when you really make me angry, it'll be too late to beg for mercy."
"What will happen then?"
He pressed his fingertip gently to the center of her forehead, threatening softly, "Like this, but replace my finger with a gun barrel... and kill you."
Linnea feared death.
He expected his threat would work.
But instead it provoked her more. "How dare I make you angry! Don't you know how scared I am of you?"
She cried. "I've been so careful. These past few days at work, I've been terrified every day. I even dream about you shooting me... but you still want to kill me! If that's the case, why didn't you just kill me from the start? That way I could be reunited with my mother..."
Hearing this, Caius should have been pleased.
It meant he had complete control over this little cat. He could easily intimidate her, make her feel apprehensive and fearful, and thus make her obey his every word.
But he didn't feel comfortable inside. It was as if a rough grain of sand was grinding in his heart.
"What are you afraid of? Am I not good enough to you?"
Wasn't he much more tolerant of this little cat than others? Even when furious, didn't he just fuck her a few more times and then let her go?
Linnea said, "But you've never thought about respecting me! You don't trust me, won't listen to my explanations, see me as a whore..."
"Stop, stop, Linnea." Caius had to interrupt her. "Can't you tell the difference between facts and empty words? I don't think of you as a whore."
As he spoke, his fingertip unconsciously rubbed her forehead. She was sweating a lot on her forehead. Was she too agitated? But it was also hot. Even hotter than his body temperature.
Caius immediately covered her entire forehead with his palm.
It was scorching hot, as if burned by fierce flames.
Linnea was still futilely pushing him away, but he could no longer get angry. He held her cold body tightly, stared at her, and kissed her. Only after forcing her to quiet down did he end the kiss and tell her, "Linnea, stop fighting with me for now, okay? You have a high fever. You need to rest."
She was... laughably foolish.
Sick and not even aware of it herself, still stubbornly fighting with him.
How many all-nighters had she pulled? Did she really need this paycheck that badly? How could she let herself get into such a miserable state?
He looked at Linnea in his arms. Whether she understood his words or finally noticed the pain in her body, she stared blankly for a moment, then whimpered, "My head hurts..."
"Don't be afraid, Linnea, calm down..."
Caius had never encountered such a troublesome bed partner.
But at this moment, he released the greatest patience of his life, coaxing her while pressing the button for the yacht's top floor. "We'll go up first. Once we get to the room, I'll have Leo come over immediately... It's just a high fever, don't worry, okay?"
"Cold..."
Linnea was only wearing a white dress. Ridiculously thin, full of torn marks.
Looking at her like this, Caius really wanted to get angry. But in the end, he just took off his shirt, wrapped it around her body, and held her tightly with his bare chest, trying to transfer his body heat to her. "Still cold? If you're cold, hold me tight. Just bear with it a bit longer. It'll be better soon..."
The elevator ascended.
He stared at the jumping floor numbers, anxiety actually rising in his heart.
The entire elevator suddenly shuddered and stopped.
Then everything around them plunged into darkness.