Beauty knelt at my feet.
And I would be the beast who would break her.
The monster who would destroy her.
Better me than another.
She’d be mine then, in a sick, unnatural way. In a sick, unnatural mind.
“What happened to you that you’re like this?”
Her quiet voice broke into my thoughts, accused me.
“That you can do this?”
Our gazes locked. I felt the shift in my chest, a flashback of me as I’d once been. As Dominic Benedetti. A man with a place, a home, a reason to live. A man with the whole world at his feet.
And then the realization of how I’d lost it rushed in on the heels of that memory, dampening everything else, regret and loss smothering me.
“What?”
I wondered if in that millisecond, she’d seen a flash of emotion cross my face.
I felt hot, sweaty. I felt—
“I changed my mind. I want to know your name.”
I blinked to dislodge this hold, this strange, new thing she held over me, but it didn’t work.
“Tell me your name,” she said.
My fist in her hair went limp. “Why? Why does it matter?”
“I don’t want to call you Death.”
I must have looked as confused as I felt.
“Your mask. The way you act. You try to be cold, like you couldn’t give a fuck, but I know that’s not it. There’s something else. There’s more there.”
I tightened my fist and grinned at her pain. “Don’t fool yourself. There’s nothing else.”
“Then it won’t matter if you tell me your name.”
“What are you going to do for it?”
“You can make me do whatever you want anyway.”
“Making you and you choosing to are two different things.”
“I get the feeling you’d like making me.”
“You’d be right,” I said, then squatted down so my face was inches from hers. I inhaled and searched her eyes, let my gaze drop down to her mouth, then back up. “Don’t think my eating your pussy means something. It’s just part of the job,” I lied, then leaned in closer, close enough to trace the curve of her ear with my tongue. She shuddered. “I smell you, Gia,” I whispered. “I smell your sex. And I bet if I slid my hand between your legs, you’d be wet.”
She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. I watched her, challenging her, and when she remained silent, I rose to stand, feeling victorious.
“If I—” She cleared her throat. “If I sucked your cock, you’d come too. It doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean you have some power over me. It’s physical. That’s all.”
“You want to suck my cock?” I knew that wasn’t what she meant.
“No. I was making a point.”
“What point?” I asked callously. “I missed it.”
“I hate you.” It started out angry, but when she repeated the words, tears glistened in her eyes, and she turned away.
“So you’ve told me.” I looked down at the top of her head, glad she wasn’t looking at me anymore, glad she couldn’t see my face right then, not until I collected myself. Remembered myself. “You should hate me.” The words carried no emotion.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
I stepped away and readied the crop. I needed to get my head in the game and move. I was overthinking things. Overthinking her. “Forward. Hands and knees. Doggy style.”
“Wh…what?” The word seemed to trip out of her mouth, caught between tears and a sob.
“Forward!” I raised the crop, and she flinched.
“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You beat women. You tie them down and beat them until they’re so scared and broken, they have no will left. No will to defy you.”
I slid my fingers through the space between her collar and her pretty little neck. I hated what she said, but she only spoke the truth. “That’s right,” I said, tugging so she had to put her hands out in front of her or she’d fall on her face. “It’s what I do.”
“Fine!”
She tried to pull away, but I held her.
“You want to whip me? Fine. I’ve had worse. I’ve survived worse. You’re nothing. You can’t even tell me your name.”
I brought the crop down on her ass, and she bit back a scream. “Crawl,” I said, tugging her forward before releasing the collar, sending her scrambling to break her fall and striking again.
“At least I knew who Victor was!” She wept but crawled forward a little, pausing to wipe her face.
“I didn’t tell you to stop!” I drew her forward again, and she moved, hurrying to get out of the way of the crop. “Faster!”
“I can’t go faster, you sick prick.” She fell forward, her bound hands hindering her progress.
“Are you hungry?” I asked sharply as I delivered another stroke.
She glanced at me, and I saw the answer in her eyes, heard it in the way her stomach growled.
“Then you’d better move. Are you cold?”
She sucked back tears and paused again to wipe her face.