“Fine, then. He left and closed the door. I slumped and only then remembered I was also still very much naked. I curled into a ball on the bed, longing for a blanket to cover me. Not that it was cold, but there was comfort and the illusion of safety if I had something to cover me.
I thought there would be a long time before I had to face him and it felt like it. Hunger pangs consumed my every thought.
The door opened and the smell of cinnamon wafted in. Everyone had their breaking point. He’d found mine. I was beyond starving.
He didn’t come into the room. There was now a chair and a small foldable table in the hall against the wall opposite the door in plain view of the bed where I lay. He sat.
Steam rose from the plate atop the table. I couldn’t make out exactly what was there as I was laser-focused on what smelled deliciously of cinnamon.
He had the nerve to open a napkin and give it a little shake before placing it in his lap. Then he cut into something. “You want some?” he offered, holding out the fork as if ready to give me a bite.
“Yes,” I croaked. In my heart, I thought I could be strong enough. But my mind warned that if I didn’t eat or drink, I would lose strength I needed in order to escape or the very least survive.
His brow arched. “Yes, what?”
All the manners my mother taught me rushed back. “Yes, please.”
“Good touch. But I believe you're missing something.”
My mind raced, and then it hit me. “Yes, my king.” So much for that cold day in hell.
His smile made him even more impossibly handsome. “Come,” he said.
Slowly, I uncurled myself and rolled to a sitting position before standing.
“No,” he said, and I froze. “On your hands and knees. I warned there would be consequences.”
Damn him. I wanted to balk, but I needed food. My stomach ached from the absence of it. Swallow your pride, I told myself.
Slowly, I lowered myself to the floor and did as he asked. I made my way over one hand and then one knee at a time. I stopped when I reached the plane of the door. There had been an unspoken warning in his expression.
“Good girl.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Fuck you.” I hadn’t spoken loudly at all. I’d barely muttered them. Absent any noise anywhere, I might as well had yelled them.
“Ah, there she is. Stubborn and stupid.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for the fallout.
“You know what I think?” I looked up as he put a plump strawberry into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before finishing. “I think you want me to fuck you. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? Do you like it rough? Have a thing for pain?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “You must because you continue to shit on my kindness.”
He said nothing more while he ate, and all I could do was watch and digest nothing but his words. I hadn’t enjoyed sex much. Each encounter had been unfulfilling. Lying to my partners about coming had grown old. And after the first three men, I thought maybe I wasn’t into men.
One night, I was drunk enough to let an attractive woman kiss me. And there was nothing. No spark. I was so disappointed, I’d cried all night wondering what was wrong with me.
Then there was that one time I’d made a mistake. A Christmas party at my job and one too many drinks. My boss was hot as fuck, and when I’d gone to my office to get my purse to leave that night, I’d run into him.
We didn’t even speak. The want was there in both of our eyes. I couldn’t say who kissed who. We crashed into each other. He’d walked me back into my office and closed the door. Then he’d spun me around, lifted my skirt, and bent me over the desk. It had been raw and purely physical. When he’d clamped his hand around my throat, I hadn’t been afraid. I’d been on the verge of coming and did so hard when he let me breathe. It had been the best sex of my life.
Unfortunately for me, that following Monday, my boss, who was really the owner of the company and not my direct supervisor, informed me that his wife was taking him back and it would be best if I resigned. It hadn’t been a secret that he’d been nearing the end of a nasty divorce. I wouldn’t have done anything with him if I’d known he was trying to get back with his wife.
He offered me a handsome package to leave quietly, and I took it. I hadn’t been there long enough to earn it. In fact, I didn’t list it on my resume. Having a job for only a couple of months didn’t look good, especially when it was the only job post my college graduation.