I can count on his determination to find a way.
“Upstairs,” he says as soon as we walk in the door.
It’s blazing daylight outside, but in his house it’s like we’re down in the basement. The windows are tightly sealed, shutters and blinds and curtains locking out the cheery sun. The only light comes from overhead, recessed lighting that leads the way to my room.
My room. I slept here for a year before I convinced Ivan to let me dance at the club and could afford my own place, such as it was. And in that year I never put up a picture, never painted a wall. Never did anything that would mark the bare walls as my own.
I stand in the center of the room, waiting.
He stops at the door, his eyes hard and glittering like diamonds. “No.”
I raise my eyebrows. “No?”
He nods toward the stairs. Keep going. The third floor.
The place he never let me go.
My heart beats faster at the realization that he might tear that wall down.
I take a step toward the door. “Your room?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t seem pleased about it. No, he seems furious. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To sleep in my bed and suck on my cock.”
I flinch at the crude words. It is what I wanted, but he makes it sound dirty. No, he makes it sound sinful. And it is a sin. That’s all I’m made of, sin after sin, sewn together with a string of desire.
“Move,” he says shortly, and I know he’s going to make this as painful as possible.
I climb the stairs with trembling legs, clinging to the railing so I don’t trip and fall. He’s right behind me. I know he’d catch me. He’d drag me up to the room if he had to.
At the landing, I don’t know which way to go. “At the end,” he says, nodding to the right.
The room is massive, but it’s only fitting, considering the bed. There’s a heavy-looking dresser. Other than that, it’s sparse. Kind of like my room one floor down.
“Strip,” he says.
I face him, understanding dawning. This is his punishment for running away. He’s going to give me exactly what I’ve always wanted—sex with him. I wanted that because then he’d be treating me like a woman. Like an equal. Only, he’s not going to do it like that. He’s going to do it painful and cruel. He’s going to make it hurt.
My hands can barely work the button on my jeans, and I shove them down. There’s no grace now. He’s seen me dance onstage. He knows what I look like, practiced, seductive. He’s never seen me like this, falling apart. I’ve never felt like this. Even the first time I met him, afraid and alone, I had determination. I had hope. Now I don’t even have that.
You’re going to disappear from the side of the road tonight, and no one will ever find you.
I take off my tank top and drop it to the floor. Now I’m completely naked.
And he has all his clothes on. I want him to take them off, but I know he won’t. He doesn’t ever. And besides, that wouldn’t make it a punishment.
“Ivan,” I whisper.
“On the bed.”
My eyelids fall shut and push the gathering tears down my cheeks. “Ivan.”
“No?” he asks. A hand clamps onto my wrist, pulling me across the room. “All right then. The dresser. Bend over.”
I don’t really have a choice, the way he throws me against it. I catch myself on my palms. The sound of a zipper comes from behind me, and I look over my shoulder. I can’t see anything, but I can feel it. God, he’s already lined up against me.
I’m just repeating his name now, a plea and a prayer. “Ivan. Ivan, please.”
I brace myself for the pain, but then he’s gone. His fingers press against my pussy, almost as blunt and far more rough. They slide along my folds, feeling my slickness.