Aras

She had shut down completely.

Even before she had climbed into bed, I had seen that.

But first, I’d seen anger.

I had been shocked when she threw the water bottle.

It seemed out of character from everything I had observed.

The Lake I’d watched was meek, subservient, and though I knew Vlad required as much of her, I had expected the same thing to carry over, especially given the circumstances.

But my interactions with her had been anything but.

She had tried to make an escape from the basement, something that seasoned killers who happened to find themselves down there would never try to do.

And now she had thrown a water bottle at me.

Childish to be sure, something she would regret later.

Especially if I decided to turn off the water in the bathroom.

But even still, that she had taken those actions in the first place said volumes.

And were far beyond my expectations.

I looked at her where she lay, purposefully pretending I wasn’t there.

I didn’t admit it, especially not to myself, but watching her had become something I cherished, looked forward to more than almost anything else.

I didn’t know why, refused to allow myself to think it was anything beyond the need to gather information to help my cause. And during the time that I watched her, I thought I had come to understand her.

Weak, but smart enough or tough enough to survive Vlad.

I’d had a whole story built up in my head. It didn’t make me want her any less, but at the very least it had made me think I understood her.

And now, I was wondering if that entire story was wrong.

The meek, mild woman I had expected was gone, and in her place was someone who was shrewd, calculating, and, at least sometimes, impulsive.

A full complement of characteristics I hadn’t even considered.

A picture of a woman who was more than whatever I had seen on the screen.

I wanted to know more, needed to know more about that woman.

I had no room for that need or for the woman.

So I stayed, stared, watching her, my mind drifting back to the night before, to what I wanted to happen now.

This wasn’t so different than the way it had been before.

Me watching her, intimate but distant.

Except everything was completely different now.

Last night I hadn’t touched her, but I had seen her, heard her, smelled her.

Today, even in her anger, there was another layer that had been added to her.

She turned in bed, her eyes lowered, intentionally not watching me, dismissing me without a word.

I wasn’t a person to be dismissed.

I advanced slowly, methodically, approaching her step by step.

She was aware, conscious of every movement I made, even though she refused to look at me.

I stood at the edge of the bed, waited a second, a second longer, as her tension ratcheted up.

Fear, something that hadn’t been there before, was apparent.

I didn’t like that, wanted to tell her she had no reason to be afraid of me.

Except that would be a lie.

And as small a thing as it was, I refused to lie to her.

Even with the fear, there was something else. That awareness, the weird, unnamable but equally undeniable thing that pulled me to her, and that apparently pulled her to me.

It was there, real, as tangible as anything else.

So I disregarded her fear, her anger, and reached out.

I gripped her chin tight, put pressure on until she turned her neck.

She kept her eyes down though.

“Look at me, Lake,” I said.

I went quiet then, waiting, watching the silent battle on her face.

After a few seconds, she complied.

Her brown eyes were unfocused, her way to do as I said without really doing as I said.

“Look at me,” I repeated, not changing my tone, but making it clear that her games wouldn’t work.

She blinked and then finally focused.

The shock of the eye contact was something I hadn’t been prepared for, but I maintained it, trying to push away all of the unfamiliar emotions that being this close to her brought. Trying to push away the wonder, the question of why the woman affected me as she did.

Failing.

Ezekiel had told me Lake was dangerous, but even he didn’t know the extent of it.

Even I hadn’t known the extent of it.

I did now.

Lake was more than just a pawn.

She meant something to me, something I couldn’t name, didn’t understand, but something nonetheless.

And one thing was clear. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, abide her ignoring me, shutting me out.

I told her so.

But not with words.

Moving slowly, millimeter by millimeter, I came closer and closer until I loomed over her.

Some part of me thought she would cower, but she didn’t.

She kept her eyes locked on mine, the challenge clear, as was the desire I’d seen when she’d fucked herself in front of the camera.

“You’ve gotten shy?” I asked, nodding at the covers she had bunched around her shoulders.

Her nostrils flared and she roughly pushed the covers away.

“No,” she responded, tilting her head.

“So why the theatrics?” I said.

Her nostrils flared again, her brows drooping low in a sure sign of her anger, the fear of seconds ago nowhere to be found.

“Theatrics? There were no theatrics. I simply chose to end a conversation,” she said.

“You’re pouting,” I said, unable to stop the smile that lifted the corners of my mouth.

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

She immediately blanched, her eyes widening, but when she saw my smile, some of the panic that had cropped up went away.

“You will. Later. But first, touch yourself again,” I said.

For a moment she looked shocked, her full lips shaping into a gentle O, but I didn’t miss the way she swallowed or the flash of excitement in her eyes.

“Is that a challenge? Are you trying to goad me into something?” she asked.

“No. I enjoyed your little show, and I want an encore. And then I want to fuck you until you can’t move,” I said matter-of-factly.

She liked that idea.

I could see that in the way her breath hitched, the way she squeezed her thighs together under the covers.

But she didn’t respond, at least not immediately. Instead she stared at me, her eyes wide, thoughtful, until she finally made a decision.

She pushed one of the straps of her gown off her shoulder and then trailed the fingers of her opposite hand along her bare skin, down her chest, to cup her breast. I only caught a flash of her tight, dark brown areola before she covered it with her palm, but seeing her long, feminine finger cupping her breast was a nice consolation prize.

She arched her back, thrusting her breast against her hand as she reached up and fondled her other breast.

“Take the gown off,” I said.

She did, giving me a full view of her round, heavy tits, her puckered nipples a few shades darker than her skin, the gentle slope of her stomach, the very edge of her mound.

She quickly repositioned the covers, hiding her sex from me as she went back to lavishing attention on her breast.

“I want to see your pussy,” I said.

“I want to see your cock,” she replied.

She met my eyes then, her own filled with passion.

I quickly discarded my shirt and shoes and my hands were at my belt in the next breath. She tugged her nipples idly as I worked my pants down around my cock.

When I was fully bare, I saw a glint in her eye, one of want mixed with a little bit of awe.

I’d been told that I was well-endowed before but never cared for the flattery of whores; but seeing that look in Lake’s eye made me feel good and even more anxious to be inside her.

“Show me,” I said.

Lake lifted one corner of her mouth, looking every bit the temptress she was. My gaze didn’t leave her as she pushed down the covers, revealing her body inch by inch.

When she was finally completely exposed, I centered my gaze on the dark triangle of hair that covered her mound. I was close enough to see the cream that leaked from her, yet more proof that she felt whatever this was just as I did.

She went to reach between her thighs, but I stopped her, my hand circling her wrist.

She kept her expression even, waiting for what I would do next.

What would I do?

I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath, but some part of me knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Lake had already affected me. Fucking her would only deepen that.

My body went rigid when she brushed her fingers against the tip of my cock. I’d let my eyes close, but when I opened them, I met hers, saw the fierce need that I felt reflected in her eyes.

And when she wrapped her fingers around my shaft, the decision was made.

She stroked me from root to tip as I pushed my hand between her thighs. I was immediately surrounded by her wet heat, my heart leaping at the thought of feeling her around me, her soft thighs wrapped around my waist as I pounded into her.

I stroked her slit, trailing one finger, another, along her lips until she moaned.

At the throaty sound, I slipped one finger into her, jerking my hips as she pulled me in. I added another, rocking my hips in time with my fingers, the feeling of her tight fist around my shaft, her even tighter cunt gripping my fingers driving me to distraction.

I couldn’t wait another second.

I pushed Lake’s hand away and pulled my fingers out. She gave the prettiest little pout, but then lay back and opened her legs wide, her invitation unmistakable, one I would gladly take.

I lay atop her, touching every part of her I could, the feeling of her soft curves under me sheer perfection.

Or at least I thought so, until I began to push inside her.

That feeling, Lake’s pussy opening for me, her walls clenching, was perfection, more perfect than anything I’d ever felt before, than I would feel again.

The sensation was almost too much; I knew it would never be enough. When I thrust, I felt as though the world shifted, wondered how I had lived without her, without this, how I would do so again.

And then thought fled.

I fucked her with everything I had, hard, soft, fast, slow, fucked her until I was a mindless mass of feeling.

“Come for me, Lake,” I rasped out as I stilled inside her and filled her with my seed.

Lake

At his command, I flew apart, this stranger sending me places I’d never been. The power of the orgasm that ripped through my body took my breath away. I was both heavy and weightless, anchored only by his cock as he emptied himself inside me.

I couldn’t believe what had happened, but I also couldn’t bring myself to regret it, at least not yet. That would come, but until then, I reveled in the feel of his strong body, the remnants of pleasure that still rocked through me.

I tried to hold onto that feeling, but as the seconds ticked by, I felt a subtle change.

He pulled out of me without ceremony and quickly dressed.

I fought back the disappointment, telling myself it was best if he left. After all, what had I expected? Cuddling and kisses? That maybe we’d giggle and talk about our deepest secrets and childhood dreams?

How stupid. At best, I could hope fucking him curried me some small favor, and take solace in the fact that at least I had come.

Even thinking those words made me shiver, their coldness leaving me empty, bereft. As I snuggled back under the covers, I told myself that was good, that I needed to keep reality in mind and not let good dick from a dangerous man cloud my judgment.

So harsh, so different than I had felt with him, but I told myself it was the truth, something I would continue to do when he left.

But he didn’t leave.

He was fully dressed now, had even put on his shoes, but instead of heading to the door, he sat in a chair opposite the bed.

He didn’t speak, and I didn’t either, but to my surprise, him sitting there didn’t feel the least bit awkward. That sensation of being watched was there and it was strangely pleasant. Fucked up, but his eyes on me felt good, softened some of the terseness of the way he’d left the bed.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been like this, comfortable in silence in someone else’s presence. That I was comfortable with him was a puzzle for another time.

As for now, my thoughts had drifted elsewhere.

Something had been nagging at me, and I finally dared ask.

I looked at him.

“What’s your name?”