Chapter 24
Ari wanted to escape from him. That wasn’t news.
None of this was. And still...
He curled his fingers up into his palms, clenched them there, hard and tight, until knuckles cracked.
A day hiking through those dingy, dark caverns under the city to get a bunch of freaky blue crystals – one man killed by falling rubble, one bitten and badly hurt by something unknown – and he came back to this.
Watching her walk to the pole with those dainty bare feet, the brown of her soles contrasting with the whiter arches, then raise her hands and wrap those hurt palms around the metal... That was as brilliant to his eyes as the very first time he’d fucked her, or kissed her, or seen her obeisance to him.
Was he smitten with some disease that he saw this as special?
His cock was stiff. Perhaps today was the day she failed to raise her power. Perhaps he could fuck her without hurting her.
Perhaps...if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Whipping her back and that fine ass would make his day far more outstanding after climbing up a few million stories to catch this escapee.
JI had turned into a great conspirator. Getting a little too human maybe. Getting a little too...malicious. Next they’d be sharing drinks, swapping dirty stories.
He twitched the whip, let it curl in the dust at his feet.
“Very good,” he purred, circling her where she stood with her hands high. He pulled her dress down to her feet, left it there, a potent reminder of her surrender.
Pure adrenalin coursed through him seeing her in position.
What Ari didn’t know was that Zarr had changed his mind and asked to see serious damage to her. He wasn’t doing that. He’d even considered keeping going with her to the surface and fleeing. Osta was coming though, soon. Sassik and Dayne were sure.
Run with her, and he’d lose credibility with the Scavs.
He stepped up until positioned behind her, raised the whip, and drew back his arm. “Count for me, darling.”
The first strike made her hiss.
Ten had her flinching and giving little cries, but she brought herself back when instructed.
He could’ve stopped now. He’d made his point. Could’ve continued with lesser punishment and he was sure she’d already have lost her power to affect his dick. He replayed those almost sub-vocal cries, studied the depth of her breaths, and how her shoulders rose and fell, and he adjusted himself through his pants. She could take more.
Sawyer smiled. He could take more.
Twenty and the red whip lines crisscrossed her so many times that aiming for a new place became difficult.
He leaned his shoulder on what was left of the column and observed her closely, running his gaze over her front, over those breasts and her nipples that’d scrunched tight with the tiny bumps around the areolas. She’d slumped into the pole, mouth slack, her forearms leaning in, her fingers holding the chain.
“Stay.”
“As if...” she slurred, “I can go anywhere, you bastard.”
Still calling him names. He let it pass, considering where he had her.
He wet his finger and reached across, pinched a nipple, noting how she couldn’t help arching.
“You like it when I do this. Why resist?”
“Because.” She shivered and her fingers clenched and unclenched on the pole.
Nervous girl.
“Because?” He circled the other nipple with the very tip of his finger pad, slow and sure, watching for her response. “Tell me how you don’t want me to suck on this. You going to lie, girl?”
She pouted, peeking past her upraised arm, and he laughed.
Laughing was new for them both.
Ari had made him climb and chase her, had shot at him, and he was laughing? Something wrong there.
He carved his finger lower, indenting the under-curve of her breast. Her warm flesh gave, and she arched some more when he traced across the curve of her belly to her mons then to her slit. Where he delved and played. Her wetness, her scent, and that open moaning mouth enticed his dick to greater efforts.
“Tell me you don’t like this...” He almost said ‘Ari’ but that was wrong.
He’d never used her name, and now he felt he was on the brink of some revelation, that possibly she liked being his anonymous slave – the slave he ravished and whipped when he wished to.
Her eyes were riveted to his as he stroked her below, teasing her clit to fullness – her big beautiful eyes caught by his, and she was silent.
As the pleasure affected her, her eyelids dipped.
“Such a good girl. Keep still. When this is done, you will be rewarded.” With a hand to the pole, he pushed off and went behind her again. “Say the count.”
His dick was still hard. He smiled. Yes.
He drew his arm back, aimed for that gorgeous target – the swell of her butt...and with more strength than before, whipped her.
“One!” She gasped several times in quick succession, her face screwing up, yet when he waited and waited, her butt gave a wriggle – this was pain that sent a message both ways.
He continued: He counted in his head; she counted out loud. Then he stepped in, smoothed his hand around her breast, her ass, kissed her nape, bit her.
The pauses in her breathing, the shivers, the little gulps as he claimed her with his teeth...these weren’t imagined.
At thirty and she sagged and trembled. “Gods,” he heard her whisper.
“You can rest.” She caved, lowering herself to her knees, her arms wrapped around the pole. Her entire upper back, and the tops of her thighs, were colored red, pink, and a little purple.
If he kept going, he’d gouge pieces from her traumatized skin, make her bleed. Already, she bruised. If he kept going, it would be for Zarr.
Hell, no.
This was for him.
He squatted, balancing with his arms on his legs. How much longer would she keep doing this? Until he had to kill her to stop her from escaping? Until she hurt someone else? He had to admit he admired her perseverance, and that she actually had compassion. The note to Keera had bemused him. When Largo had said that she’d healed Keera too, and that doing that meant she’d be weak, when she was trying to run from him up a mountain of rubble?
He ran his hand into his hair, thinking. She had a heart.
So did he. And limits. He’d had his revenge, and he was feeling a little guilty. This world... He wasn’t sure he was the same person anymore. He had this desire to keep her, but not when she hated him day after day.
“You were bad, weren’t you? Shot at me. Thought about doing other things too. Like rocks.”
“I could’ve killed you.”
“I doubt that. Why’d you try to have me castrated that day?” he asked softly.
She sniffled. “Because you scared me. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Huh.” He shook his head. “You threaten everyone like that?”
She turned and looked at him then said, with eyes deadly focused. “No. You were particularly scary.”
“Still wish you’d succeeded?”
She seemed to consider his question. “Sometimes.”
He bit back a laugh. Little bitch. She was right about the scary. Guess he’d been scared that day too, from the other side. Fear begat anger, and might wasn’t right, but on Aerthe it was often the best solution.
Maybe if he let her go, he’d decide she was just another grain of sand on the beach. Maybe. Maybe not. He would do this. Free her. If he freed her then managed to reel her back in, that would cancel out.
Catch and release, and if she came back to him, she was his. Not an excuse, a justification.
On Aerthe, he was a whole level of assholery past what he used to be.
He smiled to himself. He’d cope.
But first...
From his pack, he pulled the mittens and the clothespins, the string. Nothing heavy, because he’d aimed to sprint up the collapsed slope – at least he had until she rained bullets down on him.
“Hands.” He waited with the mittens, twisted his mouth when he held up the clothespin and opened it, closed it. “Then clit.”
Now that made her blink.
“Such pretty eyes, you have.” And a body to die for.
If she ever touched another man as he had her, he’d kill him.
Catch and release? Was he wrong? God, he wanted to put hooks in her.