Pennies (Dollar 1)

I’ll never want to speak; to you or anyone.

“Tell me what I want to know. You’re here with me, away from that bastard—safe for the time being…so speak.”

No way.

My hackles went up, tasting the trap, already feeling the cold pincers of a snare around my neck.

“You want to talk to me.”

No, I don’t.

“Yes, you do, girl.”

Girl, ugh.

Why didn’t he use my name? Even though it wasn’t my given one.

Was I so nondescript not to earn a proper address? Did he prefer I wasn’t given an owning noun but rather remained an adjective or verb?

I didn’t move.

No shoulder shrug or head flick. My body was on gag orders as well as my mouth.

Mr. Prest’s voice hovered in the space far longer than usual. The words wisped like smoke from a blown out candle, still visible but slowly fading the more time passed.

When the final syllable was extinguished, he murmured, “You don’t like that, do you?”

Like what?

“That I didn’t use your name.”

My eyes widened until the delicate skin around them tightened with shock. What the hell?

He smirked. “What is your name?”

You know my name.

“Let me rephrase that…what is your true name.”

I turned to stone. You’ll never know.

“Where do you come from?”

None of your business.

I stared harder; his eyes narrowed in frustration. “How old are you?”

Too old. Too young.

The novelty of being asked questions threatened to fissure my nightmarish world. They were dangerous but also the most inane and common. If I’d been on more dates, boys would’ve asked me the exact same things.

And back then, I would’ve answered.

But not here.

Not now.

Chuckling under his breath, he leaned forward. His legs bent to support his raised torso; the mattress rocked a little beneath his weight.

“You know, I’ve been around many people who don’t talk.” He danced another penny over his knuckles with effortless grace. “It didn’t bother me then, and it doesn’t bother me now.” Snatching the coin in his fist, he growled, “I’ll get my answers from you, Pim.”

You can try.

His smile turned cold. “Before we’re through, I’ll know more than some superficial bullshit. I’ll know who you are—” He shot forward, stabbing a finger in my chest. “—in there.”

I flinched beneath his hold. He’d found a previous bruise, amplifying the punishment. Not that that was hard with most of me covered in some injury or other.

His eyes locked on mine.

I wanted to scream. ‘You think you’ll understand me? I’ll know you better. How about a trade?’

He could have my secrets if he smuggled me out of here. There was something about this man. Something unknown and intrinsic and needed. So, so needed.

I was naïve to his monster, but that didn’t mean a thing as I stared into endless eyes daring to go to war with him.

The longer we stared, the deeper whatever linked us became. That damn electricity was back, flowing with no limits, hissing in my blood.

Never looking away, his finger became two, then three, then four until his entire hand pressed against my sternum.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t move as he leaned closer, his nostrils flaring as his grip dropped to cup my breast.

Tears welled. Partly due to the invasion of being touched so tenderly but mostly due to the weight of his gaze pushing me deep, deep into the mattress. My heart didn’t stand a chance—it gave up trying to beat and just flopped over and played possum instead.

“Do you like that?”

His whisper jerked me from his spell.

No.

Not at all.

Biting his bottom lip, he looked younger and more reckless at the same time. I’d never met anyone like him. No boys in my past or men in my present. He was alien and fascinating and entirely too frightening.

Mr. Prest skated his eyes to where he held me. His thumb grazed my nipple. The damn thing budded for him.

Pearl flashes of his teeth sent more pinwheels over my skin as he bit his lip harder. I never thought a man biting his lip would be hot.

But by God, it was.

Somehow, he made me forget that I wasn’t there of my own accord—that we weren’t on a date and there wasn’t a mad owner about to burst through the door the moment Mr. Prest tried to sleep with me.

The memory froze my spine, stopping it from turning supple with desire. The flow of connection from his flesh to mine ceased as suddenly as if I’d executed him.

Pulling back, I kept my chin high. His hand slid from my breast, falling heavily into his lap. Silence was an enemy rather than a friend as our breathing fell into a slow, tattered rhythm.

“You’re different to what I thought you’d be.” His voice licked where his touch had been.

And you’re different to who I thought you were.

He ran his tongue over his lip where his teeth had nipped. “Do you know why I asked for one night with you?”