Dishonorable

What did that make me if I did? This wasn’t how I thought it would go, but having her here, having her close, warm and soft and so fucking innocent… I could have her, that was the point. I didn’t even have to make her. She wanted me, and I was using her desire against her. Taunting her with it.

“Look at me, Sofia.”

She did, and her pale eyes searched mine. Inside them I saw humiliation. I saw sadness. Uncertainty. I saw vulnerability, and I saw a loneliness, a longing, a hope, that I recognized. One I couldn’t ignore. One that threatened to resurrect a part of me I’d buried long ago.

One I intended on keeping buried.

I knew only one way to shut it down, and I needed to shut it the fuck down. Now.

Anger boiled inside me. Rage at my own weakness. My weakness around her.

“I own you,” I said, gripping her jaw harder than I needed to and bringing her face to me.

“Stop!”

“When I want to fucking kiss you, I’ll fucking kiss you.” To prove my point, I mashed my lips over hers. This time, they didn’t open. They didn’t yield like they had just a few moments ago.

Good. That was good. That was the point.

I released her, and she tried to scramble away, scraping her thigh on the edge of the pool as she tried to slip out of my grasp but ending up on her back instead, with me on top of her.

“Stop it.”

She struggled beneath me, but the sick thing was, it only excited me. Her fight turned me on, and I knew the instant that fact registered for her.

“You don’t fucking want me to stop.” I kissed her again, this time slipping one hand between her legs and gripping her sex.

She gasped, and I tightened my hold on her pussy.

“You. Don’t. Fucking. Want. Me. To. Stop, Sofia.”

The next kiss was rough, my teeth cutting into her soft lip, the metallic taste of blood, of her blood, making me groan.

“Admit it,” I demanded.

“I don’t want it!” she cried out, frantic now beneath me, her little fists pounding my shoulders, her hands curling into my hair, pulling hard.

“More,” I said, kissing her again, squeezing her cunt. “It only makes my cock harder.”

“This isn’t you. I know it. I know it.”

“You know nothing. I could make you.”

“You won’t! You said it.”

“I could. And you’d be wet for me.”

“No.”

“What if I slip my hand into your suit, Sofia?”

She shook her head frantically but only managed to spread her legs wider in her effort to free herself from me.

“Would it make you feel better if you pretended I made you do it?”

“Please,” she begged.

“Please? Is that a yes?”

“No. Raphael, let me go. This isn’t you.”

I shot up, straddling her, released her pussy, and wrapped my hand around her throat. “This is exactly me!” I roared, years of anger vocalizing now. How in hell did she think she knew me when I didn’t know myself?

I squeezed, and she gripped my forearm, trying to pull me off. Her face reddened, her eyes wide as saucers, and the sick thing was, the fear in them only set ablaze a thing already burning like a fucking brand inside me.

“I killed my father with my bare hands, Sofia. You think I won’t hurt you?”

“Self-defense isn’t the same as murder,” she managed, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes.

“Your fear makes me hard,” I whispered close to her face. “That should scare the fucking shit out of you.” I squeezed once more, then let go of her throat and straightened to loom over her. She brought her hands to her throat and turned her head, coughing. I watched until finally, she shifted her gaze back to me.

“It does,” she muttered. “You do. You scare the shit out of me.”

Her eyes trapped me, the tables turning, even in the sound of defeat in her voice.

“You win, Raphael. Don’t you think I know that? That you’ve already won?”

I sat up straighter, my weight on my thighs, so I no longer crushed her.

“You told me you wouldn’t be a beast to me, but look at you,” she said. “You can make me do whatever you want. We both know that. You can take whatever you want, you can take every single thing away from me. You can force me—”

Her voice broke, and she never finished that part.

“You can lock me away, and there wouldn’t be a thing I could do about it. But you know what’s even more fucked-up than you getting off on my fear?”

Her voice cracked, tears pooled in her eyes.

“The fact that I know, that I believe with all my heart, it’s not what you want. It’s not who you are.”

I blinked several times and ran a hand through my hair.

She shifted beneath me, slid her legs out from underneath mine, and stumbled to stand. She grabbed her towel and held it to her chest, another barrier between me and her as I knelt at her feet. Unable to move. Unable even to look at her.