Beautiful Monster (Dark Lies Duet 2)

What is this? I would ask, but something tells me I wouldn't get an answer. Nothing that makes sense, at least. He's not demanding or rough when he takes my wrist and lifts my arm to wash the underside, repeating the process with my other arm. I'm too surprised to react.

Until he moves down to my chest and the nipples peeking out over the water's surface. Reflex makes me try to fold my arms again, to cover myself, and this time, he's less gentle as he pulls them apart. Still, he doesn't say a word, not even when I clamp my legs together tight enough to make them shake while he soaps my calves, ankles, and feet.

I never realized how strong he is. No, that's not true. I can't forget how he overtook me in the alley and forced me. It's still hard to believe that was him, but not so hard when he’s determined to part my legs and wash between them.

“You don't have to do that.”

He ignores me, abandoning the cloth in favor of running his fingers between my lips. Unlike when we were in the jet’s bathroom, he's gentler now, stroking my clit with a firm touch.

And it takes no time at all for my body to betray me like it did before. I can't help but arch my back, moving my hips in time with his strokes against my most sensitive places. He doesn't say a word, but his breathing deepens, quickening until he sounds like a rutting animal while I'm lost in sensation.

It's so wrong. I hate this. But God, I hope it never stops. That's the last conscious thought I have when an orgasm slams into me, knocking my head back, making my hips buck until water splashes out onto the floor.

And he doesn't stop, either, continuing to finger me even when I try to throw him off. He won't let me win. He won't stop until he's ready to stop. Another orgasm tears through me, and I can barely bite back a scream. I'm ready to beg him to stop since I don't think I can take anymore but thank the lord he withdraws his finger then.

By the time my eyes are open, he's gone again. But he hasn't left me alone, not really. I still hear him walking around in the empty room next door.

I have no choice but to get out of the tub and get dressed. My pussy is still twitching in aftershocks, and my legs are shaky, but I need to get up. I don't want to leave myself vulnerable to him.

Why didn’t I try harder to stop that? And why did I have to come so fast, so hard? All I'm doing is proving him right, and he can't be right. This is only encouraging him. How am I supposed to get out of this if I can't stop encouraging him? I'm even weaker than I thought.

At least the clothes are soft and comfortable, the only comfort I have right now. And they cover me up, which is another plus. The less exposed skin, the less chance of getting him hot.

I walk barefoot into the room and stop short in horror to find Christian pulling his T-shirt over his head. “What are you doing?”

For the first time since he rejoined me, he speaks. “What does it look like?”

“Why are you doing that here?”

“Why do you think?”

I wrap my arms around myself, shoulders up around my ears. “You're never going to touch me again the way you just did. I hope you know that.”

He only snorts, then drops his pants. “Come on. It's getting late. You need to rest.”

“I'm not getting into that bed if you are.”

He turns slowly, facing me head-on. “Either you get in that bed on your own or I put you in the bed.” For a moment, I contemplate my next move, but it’s like he can read my mind and instead says, “Tell me you don't think I'll do it.” He grins, teeth flashing in the moonlight now shining through the window. “I want you to. I want you to challenge me. Do it. It’d be a pleasure to prove you wrong and put you in your place.”

This heartless bastard. I make sure to glare at him as I cross the room and lower myself to the bed, pressing my back against the wall. “That's fine with me,” he grunts and sits down. “Less chance of you trying to get past me. And by the way, don't even bother to do that.”

He stretches out, taking up more than half the mattress since I’m lying with my back to the wall. “We're locked in. And we're not leaving this room until I say we are.”

I know he's right. And I'm too tired to argue. Too tired, too sad, and too disappointed in myself. How can I ever trust myself again when I was so blind to who he truly is? And if knowing the truth isn’t enough to keep him from manipulating my body, what is?