How the hell was I supposed to refuse that?
Especially when I would’ve taken it anyway.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I would’ve killed her, but only after I’d had a taste. One forbidden taste that was no longer forbidden but willingly given.
Willingly?
I rolled my eyes as I stretched out the kinks in my spine and stalked barefoot through the long grass back to the kitchen door. She’d sucked me, but it hadn’t been willing. If she didn’t see a blade hanging over her throat, then she wouldn’t have looked twice at me.
She would’ve refused to give me any attention.
She would’ve scurried up the cliff walls and vanished the second I even glanced at her.
And knowing the pleasure she’d given me wasn’t freely granted made it taste all the sweeter. Didn’t others deserve to know what that felt like? Didn’t I deserve to be in a position of power for once?
My stomach snarled as I shoved my way into the kitchen and eyed up the vegetables I’d harvested this afternoon. A range of produce waited to be washed, prepped, and placed into the fridge to extend their usability during this heatwave.
I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I’d gone for a long run, a swim, and done hours’ worth of gardening since leaving my prisoner this morning. Not to mention, I’d spent all that time violently denying the lust in my blood.
I was exhausted.
I was sick to death of the itchy hunger inside that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with my trespasser.
My cock had a fucking trance on it. It wanted to bolt to the basement and force the girl to worship it. It wanted to come again and again. It wanted to be used after a decade of forced celibacy.
Gritting my teeth, I ignored the incessant tug in my belly and focused on making dinner. I only wore my dirty slacks, having shrugged off the shirt during a fierce bout of digging potatoes, and sighed in relief as a cool evening breeze wafted through the kitchen.
In winter, dusk always depressed me. It came around too fast and settled in for too long. It brought ice and silence and nightmares. In summer, I liked dusk the most. It came with its pink glow and lingered with its gray shadows. It cooled off the intensity of the sun but left behind mugginess, granting a perfect temperature neither too hot nor too cold.
Would she be cold?
Down there in puddles and stone?
Do I care?
My cock twitched; apparently he cared, even if I didn’t.
My thoughts once again skipped to my hostage as I sliced up fresh potatoes and tossed them in the rudimentary flour I’d made from the wild grass seed heads outside. I’d long since run out of oil, but I’d learned if I added a thin layer of flour and baked sticks of potatoes in the oven (an oven that’d lasted this long and hopefully wouldn’t die for another few decades), I could achieve crispy french fries that rivaled any I might’ve remembered from a previous life.
I didn’t bother cooking in the summer much. I ate most of the vegetables raw, and the game I caught was smoked or charred over a fire outside.
However, I wasn’t just cooking for myself anymore.
Already, she’d complicated my world, and she’d only been here two days.
Her life for my pleasure.
Is that deal worth it?
This morning, with my cock down her throat and her tongue bringing me to a spine-snapping orgasm, I would’ve said shit yes it was worth it. Now, with the cool evening air and the knowledge that the seasons would change soon and the ease of living would grow difficult, I wasn’t so sure.
Sex wasn’t useful. Sex wasn’t productive. Sex would get me into a shit ton of trouble that I didn’t need.
Her blowjob had granted her another day of living.
Perhaps, that ought to be the fine print of our deal.
Notice me, pleasure me, and she could live to see another sunrise.
Deny me, upset me, and she would forfeit any and all leniency.
Liking those new rules, I pulled out two plates and prepared to feed my complicated possession.
* * * * *
“You came back.” She shot to her feet and braced against the wall as if she could run through it.
My eyes snapped to hers as I stepped into the cell and shut the door behind me. Two plates balanced on one arm, feeling like I was the one in servitude and not the other way around.
Ignoring the way her gaze locked onto me as if I might disappear again, I stalked toward her and placed the food beside the empty plates from this morning.
It turned out, she’d decided to take her chances and had eaten the same breakfast she’d suspected I’d poisoned.
It shouldn’t affect me that she’d eaten my food, that she’d willingly taken other parts of me into her body, but it did. It affected me more than watching my cock slide over her tongue. It made my heart twitch instead of my balls, and I stabbed it for ever thinking of betraying me.