Pet: A Dark Menage Romance

“I hate you,” she said.

“So?” I asked. “That doesn’t change a fucking thing. You’re still coming with me, aren’t you?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked bitterly.

I moved closer and stroked her hair. She turned her head to the side when I did it and I hated myself for hurting her so many times already.

“You always have a choice, Pet,” I told her simply.

The rain came down then, heavy and cleansing at the same time. She looked up at me as I tugged on her strands of her hair. It was naturally a little wavy. I stared at her and she blushed, looking away.

“You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer.

“Confidence is the best thing a girl can wear, Pet,” I told her.

“Good thing you have enough for both of us,” she said.

I laughed. “Don’t be snarky.”

“Don’t be patronizing.”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fuck off.”

She tried to get away, but I pulled her back by her hair. She mewled when I did it, but didn’t make a move to get away. I held her tightly against my chest, and she let me, giving me piece by piece by piece. I was greedy. I wanted all of her, and I wanted it then and there. She was like a fucking puzzle I was trying to put together, but I kept missing the most important pieces.

“Will you let me take you home?” I asked her, and she nodded against my chest. “Good girl,” I said.

I took her hand and guided her to my car. I opened the door for her, made sure she put her seatbelt on and we took off into the night. Moments after we started driving, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Okay?” I asked.

“Feel sick,” she gasped. “You drive like a fucking crazy person.”

I laughed and slowed down. “Motion sickness. Cute.”

“Don’t ever call me cute again,” she bit out. So feisty.

“Why not?”

“It’s the worst adjective in the English language,” she said. “I want to be sexy or hot instead.”

“Fishing for compliments?” I teased.

She didn’t say a word, sulking in her seat instead.

I drove back home in silence, careful with every turn we took. She placed her hand on her thigh after a few blocks and it made me feel better. This weird fucking need to protect her, to make sure she was okay, rose inside me, and I didn’t know what the hell to do with it. She wasn’t my responsibility. She wasn’t even supposed to be my pet.

After what happened, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t have another one.

And yet, here we were.

I parked in the garage below my apartment building and opened the door for her. The whole night felt like a dream, buzzing with tension and wet with the rain, making for a fucking terrible, combustible combination. She stalked out of the car without so much as looking at me, but when I led her to the elevator, her small hand pressed against mine.

I gave her a sideways glance as we rode up. She was looking at the floor, her fingers holding onto my hand desperately.

She was a fucking girl. She wasn’t even a woman yet.

And I was going to make her into one, whatever the hell it took.

We got off on my floor and she still wouldn’t look at me. I led her into my apartment, and she followed closely, her fingers intertwined with mine. I had a feeling she wanted to let go, but fucking couldn’t. Her fingernails were digging into my palm desperately.

“Do you have any of your stuff?” I asked her, and she shook her head. “Do you need anything?”

She gave me a blank stare.

“Like a toothbrush… some pajamas? Do you take any medications, do you need contact solution, anything?”

She kept staring.

“Pet,” I said. “You need to work with me here.”

“What am I doing here?” she asked me. “Why would you come get me? Haven’t you fucked me up enough?”

“You’re here because you want to be here,” I said.

“I don’t!” she screeched.

“Did I drag you here?” I asked her. “Did I fucking do something to you that you didn’t beg for?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. Her favorite phrase, apparently.

“I don’t do non-consent, Pet,” I said. “And I’ll never take something from you that you wouldn’t want me to have. Okay?”

“You fucked another girl,” she accused me in the softest of voices. “You just fucked her to… punish me.”

“That’s not why I did it,” I said.

“Then why?” She was tearing up. “Are you fucking blind? I like you so much…”

I kneeled in front of her and took her shaky hands in mine.

“You need to trust me,” I told her.

“No. Why would I?” She was seething with anger, but she wouldn’t pull those hands away.

“Because you want to,” I reminded her. “Because you need this as fucking badly as I do.”

“You don’t need me,” she sobbed. “You just want a pussy to fuck. A mouth to push your cock inside. An ass to rip apart.”