Chapter Sixteen
Ailish stared into the blue depths of the swimming pool, watching her feet glide back and forth as if they were someone else’s legs. Growing up, the swimming pool had been her escape, but now she found that laughable. It was surrounded on all sides by three stories of the prison she’d called home. Towering over her little slice of normalcy, blocking out the sun and casting long shadows. At one time, the ivy climbing the walls had been beautiful to her. Now the strands of green medallions only appeared to be making a break for freedom.
The sound of the gentle ripples created by her feet were drowned out by her father’s men inside the house. Henrik would be with them. Blending in as best he could as a former police officer turned to the criminal lifestyle. She hadn’t spoken to him since the early afternoon confrontation in her closet. After immediately getting down to the sickening business of drafting a veritable murder list for her father, Henrik had left her bedroom to stand guard in the hallway, opening the door to check on her once an hour. Too many hours of her life had been spent in that bedroom, working over her desk, trying to spare as many lives as possible. Because of her numerous attempts to run away since becoming a preteen, a guard had always stood sentry in the hallway. She didn’t want Henrik to take the place of those men. It made her ill.
And whether or not it was rational, it made her mad.
Ailish was inside the walls of her own doing. She’d allowed Sera to bind her, allowed Derek to help her into the trunk. This was her decision. And while having that control put her a great distance from the powerless girl she’d once been inside those walls, the memories were too potent. The male shouting and laughter in the distance built a churning whirlpool of disgust and indignation within her. Every time she heard clinking ice cubes in a glass or the crack of pool balls, she wanted to scream. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, she could crumble the walls out of sheer force of will.
When she sensed someone joining her in the pool area, Ailish didn’t even glance up. She knew that tread, knew that quiet restraint by heart already. Henrik. The whirlpool turning in her stomach moved a little faster, fast enough to drown out the way her pulse ticked up forty notches at having him nearby. A tiny twinkle of guilt tried to wedge itself in the whirlpool’s path, grind it to a halt, but she wouldn’t allow that. She’d been given the option of freedom in that forest. But she’d chosen to come back to Chicago, to fight her father’s evil side by side. That decision had taken so much. The overcoming of fear, a giant leap of trust. He’d squandered that trust, and there would be no running into his arms or forgiveness. The hurt was too fresh.
Ailish slipped off the side of the pool, letting the cool water engulf her. She turned upside down, letting the tips of her toes point toward the sky, and rejoiced in the absolute silence. Air started to run scarce, so she pushed back to the surface, unsurprised to find Henrik standing at the pool’s concrete lip. She registered the worry lines between his eyes, the tautness of his body, as if he were preparing to dive in after her. It made Ailish feel a little desperate. Made her ache. But her newfound stubbornness galvanized and overcompensated, kicking any sympathy for Henrik to the curb and making her want to lash out.
I thought you could be my future, but now you’re just blending with the past, abusing my trust like everyone else. A familiar, helpless feeling was overtaking her, and she met it head-on. The only way she knew how.
Ailish’s eyelids grew heavy, warmth growing heavy in her belly. She braced her hands on the pool’s edge and climbed out, aware of the water running down her body. Over her breasts, loosely contained as they were in the teal-green triangles of her bikini. When she’d chosen it out of her dresser drawer, pride had prevented her from admitting the hope that she’d run into Henrik. Now her pride presented itself in a different way. She wanted some control back. There was a way to accomplish that. Recognizing and embracing the need to act out physically was just like slipping naked into cool, crisp, silk bedsheets.
Night was falling, the encroaching darkness accelerated by the surrounding walls of the house. Only the barest amount of moonlight shone in, giving her an excuse to be bolder, more daring than she would be in the daylight.
Henrik stepped back as Ailish exited the pool, throwing a look over his shoulder toward the house before giving her his full attention. “Are you…” His cautious gaze ran the length of her without moving his head, the deep voice of his emerging as if scraped over a bed of nails. “How are you?”
Ailish gathered her wet hair and squeezed out the excess moisture. Then she stretched her arms up, piling the tresses on top of her head, swaying slowly as she secured a bun. “I’m just fine.” She watched Henrik follow the droplets of moisture coasting down her stomach, absorbing into the thin material of her abbreviated bottoms. “Did you need something?”
His throat muscles shifted. “Your break has gone on long enough. Time to head back.”
She blinked away the red screen that dropped in front of her vision. “And you’re going to escort me back to my cell?”
“You’re safer indoors,” he answered in a low tone. “Wrap a towel around yourself and get inside.”
Henrik was right. She knew that. Since she’d run away, a shift had taken place at her father’s house, and the landscape wasn’t entirely the same as it had been. The energy was uncomfortable, clinging to the walls in every room like the ivy she’d stopped appreciating. If the men were no longer ruled by fear of repercussions from her father, Ailish was in more danger than ever. But it was hard to reason with herself under the influence of a thrumming pulse, excitement tickling up the inside of her thighs, and Henrik looming so close, clearly wanting to devour her. “I’m not ready to go inside.”
“Do you need to be carried?”
He didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to take away her free will—that much was plain in his expression. But he would if she pushed him far enough. And the secret, wicked part of her wanted to taunt him. Force him into cracking. Being just that much more like everyone else. Ailish dropped down onto the lounge chair where she’d laid a towel earlier, smoothing her feet up and back the terry cloth material. Up and back. Up and back. Stretching her thigh muscles out, then drawing them back in. Watching Henrik through half-closed eyes, she let her fingers dance on the propped-up tops of her knees, slowly dragging them down toward her center, arching her back as they traveled.
“Goddammit, Ailish.” Henrik stepped closer to the lounge chair. “Stop this. They’re downstairs now, but they could come looking for me.”
Fingers playing around the edge of her bikini bottoms, Ailish trapped a moan at the bright gold brilliance of tempting a man. This man. Being angry or disappointed in him didn’t remove the need. He’d purchased property in the circle of her desire and couldn’t be evicted. But she could harness the lust, direct it where she chose, and regain some of the power that place took away.
And yes, yes, she wanted Henrik to break. Wanted his hands on her body, even for just a few stolen seconds. It was no use denying it. Henrik’s touch had gone from craving to requirement. And she wouldn’t consider that a weakness, as long as Henrik had the same requisite need for her. His shallow breathing and barely audible groans as she toyed with the scant material of her bottoms was proof enough. “If they come looking for you, they won’t be surprised to find me being bad. As long as you don’t give in, you’re not breaking any rules.”
His shin bumped the chair. “I’ve been inside you. I know you treat my cock like your own private fuck toy. So not breaking the rules is going to be a lot harder for me than any of these pathetic motherfuckers.”
A flush blasted over Ailish’s skin, head to toe. “It’s a good thing I left the necklace in my room.”
“It’s not a good thing,” he growled. “You should have it on you at all times.”
Undeterred by the reprimand, Ailish trailed her fingers up her rib cage and slipped them beneath the barrier of her bikini top. Her skin was still wet from the pool, making her breasts slick as she cupped them, massaging in a slow rhythm. “Feels so good. I haven’t touched myself since the cabin.”
“When?” Henrik asked hoarsely. “Tell me exactly when it was, damn me for asking.”
Victory collided with lust and streaked through her middle. “The morning you left. Right afterward, when I was still—”
“Still what?”
She peeled back her top, allowing her breasts to pop free. Then she walked her fingers down, past her belly button, to tease the material of her bottoms. “I was still so wet,” Ailish breathed. “I moaned your name into a towel while Erin and Connor were right outside.”
“Enough.” He dropped a knee onto the chair, making it creak and undermining his command. He’s so huge. His body blocked out everything but the wild, spinning desire for him to crack. To drop his weight down onto her and admit defeat. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you look like, laid out all wet and naked, do you? Tits bouncing around. Those bottoms so wet, I can see the slit between your thighs.” He raked a hand over his open mouth, all while perusing her body with sexual intent. “If we were anywhere else, I wouldn’t be acting right, Ailish. I’d have a hand slapped over your mouth and I’d be using you up without a hint of gentle. You understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered, tossing her head back on the chair. His words were rough, but she was hugely turned on by the image they conjured. Henrik covering her mouth while pumping out his frustration between her splayed legs. Hard. Maybe even enough to make her scream against his palm. “I understand.”
When she attempted to slide her fingers beneath the low waistband of her bottoms, Henrik snagged her wrist. “No,” he grated. “I know you’re angry. I see that.” His gaze strayed to the wet teal triangle covering her private flesh. “But you’re going too far. I’m fucked up, okay? Knowing you hate me only makes me want to fuck you more. Fuck you harder. Makes me want to win your body back, right here and now. You’d like that, huh? If I gave you my cock hard enough to bust this chair?”
Unable to draw a decent supply of oxygen, Ailish only nodded.
Henrik released a low string of curses, before crouching down…and leaning in. His mouth hovered above her belly button, releasing hot puffs of air, creating goose bumps on every inch of her damp body. His lips opened, tongue licking out to stroke a devastating circle around her belly button—and the voices in the house grew louder. Closer. Henrik’s body tensed, but neither of them moved. Until footsteps could be heard in the distance, treading over the tile floor of the kitchen, which led out into the pool area.
...
“Shit,” Henrik grated, tearing himself away from the slick temptation of Ailish’s body and rising to his full height. “Put your top back on.”
Thankfully, Ailish didn’t need to be told. She was already replacing the triangles over her breasts and tightening the knot at her nape. It was unfortunate that Henrik couldn’t hide the evidence of their dangerous foreplay quite so easily, however. His cock was solid and ready, shoved up against the zipper of his jeans. God, if the men hadn’t returned from downstairs, would he be fucking her right now? Out in the open where anyone could see them?
Yeah. He would. Logic was sorely lacking in anything involving Ailish. Even now, when they were seconds from having company in the pool area, he wanted to strip the bathing suit bottoms off of her and get a few thorough licks of her pussy. Just to get the taste in his mouth. Maybe he could even accomplish it before the men came outside.
You’re a sick man. Yes, he was growing more ill with every passing moment he couldn’t have her. She was the sickness and the elixir.
Henrik closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply. If anything could loosen the hold of arousal, it was replaying the conversation he’d heard take place among the men inside. Just before coming out to find Ailish. To say they were antagonistic toward their boss’s daughter was an understatement. They resented her for having what they considered a cushy lifestyle and squandering it. Wanting to better herself. She thinks she’s so much better than us, huh? Too good for this life? I’ll show her the only thing she’s good for.
Yeah, that was all it took for rage to filter in. “Get up,” Henrik growled, just as they men stepped outside. The sounds of lighters flickering echoed off the walls, accompanied by small flashes of flame. He saw those flames in Ailish’s eyes, which was pretty appropriate, considering her temper had visibly risen with his command.
“I’ll come in when I’m ready,” she gritted out.
Aware that the men were watching, Henrik gripped her elbow and tugged Ailish onto her feet. “You have work to do.”
He reached behind her to retrieve the towel, holding it out to her, but she refused to take it. Instead, her face transformed with a smirk and she sauntered past him. In nothing but the barely-there bathing suit, she strolled past the group of men, her footfalls the only sound to be heard. Henrik followed closely behind her, giving the group a conspiratorial headshake.
Not that any of them were looking at him.
It didn’t matter that Ailish was playing a part. Flaunting herself in a way that brought men to their proverbial knees, the way she’d once done as daughter of the house. It didn’t matter that he understood why she’d chosen to act out in such a way. No, none of it mattered when men who’d so crudely discussed Ailish’s body before were now all but drooling as she passed. And he wanted to swing his fists until they were in a fucking pile on the ground.
“Back to work, little girl,” one of them taunted.
Another one leaned close as Ailish passed, entering the house through the sliding glass door. “Make Daddy proud.”
Henrik ground his molars together—hard—shoving his right fist into his jeans pocket so he wouldn’t snap and use it. How much of this could he reasonably take? And this was just another sign that they’d lost respect for their boss. They’d never spoken directly to her before, according to Ailish, meaning there’d been a rapid shift in their behavior. God, he needed to get her out soon. Tomorrow night. Just have to make it to tomorrow night.
Following Ailish down the hallway toward her bedroom, Henrik tried to rein in the jealousy that made his blood boil. Mine. Mine. His brain repeated the word in time with her soft footsteps. A primitive beat played, beginning in the recesses of his chest, booming louder. Louder. When Ailish reached the door, she turned to meet his gaze, her lips parting on an intake of breath, obviously witnessing the results of what took place in his head. Too bad she was still pissed at him. It was there in the stubborn set of her jaw, the jerky way she opened the door.
“Coming?” she whispered, pausing with a hand on the jamb. God, that bikini was riding a little too low for his peace of mind. Any lower and the top of her slit would show. Had she tugged it down while they were walking?
“You know I can’t,” he rasped.
Henrik watched in slow motion as Ailish dipped a finger into the front of her bathing suit bottoms and slid it back and forth, tugging them down farther with every sensual journey. “Just to the closet?”
He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take just a few minutes with her, could he? The men were drunk off their faces downstairs. He could still hear their shouting and laughter from outside, the scraping of metal chairs telling him they weren’t coming back inside any time soon. Stop trying to justify it. “Get inside and lock the door,” Henrik said, adjusting his erection with a muffled groan.
Ailish was breathing too fast, her cheeks bright pink. She was enjoying his torture, but there was apology in her eyes, too. His girl had a kink, and he was the target. Not something to be sorry about, but she’d chosen a damned inconvenient time to play. Jealousy had done something funny to him. Made him want to be aggressive with her, even more than usual. Made him want to claim her in rough fucking fashion.
Common sense had Henrik moving backward down the hall, but he’d only taken a few steps when Ailish peeled off her bathing suit bottoms and tossed them into the dark bedroom. She turned slightly in the doorway, just enough to give him a view of her ass, before slipping into the room. “Suit yourself.”
Need choked Henrik, propelled him forward. Into the room. He had blinders on, couldn’t see right or left, only straight ahead. The closet was pitch black when he entered, closing the door behind him with as much ease as he could muster. “Where are you?” he grated. “Ailish.”
“Here.”
Just a breath away. His hands lifted, running over the curve of her hips, higher to strip off the bikini top. Soft. So smooth and soft. She moaned as Henrik spun her around until she faced away. “What do you want all this teasing to lead to, huh, baby? What are you hoping I’ll do?” Henrik held his hips away from the temptation of Ailish’s ass, otherwise he’d never be able to walk out of there. Not without feeling the tight stroke of her inner walls along the ridges of his cock. Not without listening to her beg. So instead of fitting her against his lap, Henrik rubbed his palm in circles on her backside. “Answer me.”
“I’m not sure,” she said on a shudder. A hand closed around Henrik’s heart, a symptom of the honesty in her voice. She was pushing that sweet ass into his hand, going up on tiptoes to accomplish it, and he battled between the urge to continue on his quest to fulfill a need he sensed in Ailish—and turning her around, holding her until their pulses steadied. “I just want you to need me. So bad that you can’t stop yourself from…taking.”
He pressed his face into her hair. “I passed need weeks ago. Need is just a word. I am my starvation for you, Ailish. It rules me.”
Her breath released in an excited rush. “Show me what it does to you.”
Like a red flag being waved at a bull, Henrik gripped her ass cheek so tight, she gasped. “It makes me want to discipline you for teasing me.” Letting go of her taut flesh, he pulled Ailish’s hair to one side so he could speak directly against her ear. “That’s what you’ve been asking me for, isn’t it? You haven’t been naughty for the sake of being naughty. You want repercussions.”
“I-I don’t know. I’ve never—”
“Hands on the wall, cock tease,” Henrik ordered, tugging on the strands of red hair he’d snagged with deft fingers. The sound of her whimper was accompanied by clothes being shoved aside, hangers squeaking on the rack, the barely audible thud of her hands connecting with the wall. “We’re going to find out, aren’t we? See if you flashed that ass at me for a reason.”
“Yes.”
Muscle memory kicking in, Henrik inserted his boot in between Ailish’s bare feet and shoved her legs apart. “I wish like hell the lights were on so I could see you spread.” He stroked a hand down her spine, around her hip, and up her rib cage. Back down and around. Over and over. “Those nipples hard, baby? Tell me.”
He sensed her nodding a second before she whispered, “Y-yes.”
“Good. I want to think about them bouncing when I spank you. Want to think about your pussy giving a little shake from the impact, too.”
Ailish began to pant. “You’re going to spank me?”
“Until you’re dripping down the insides of your legs.”
Henrik angled his body to the side, reared his hand back, and slapped the flesh he’d been in need of touching to the point of pain. His cock reacted to the cracking sound, filling and expanding in his boxer briefs. Jesus. Christ. He’d never spanked a woman before. Had never thought he’d find it appealing. Or maybe it was only an activity that could be pleasurable with Ailish, because—fuck—he loved the image in his head. Ailish in a frisking position against the wall, being punished by his hand. But his concern began to mount when Ailish remained silent, after her initial gasp.
“Baby.” He smoothed his hand over the place he’d landed the light blow, tending the supple flesh with an up-and-down rub. “You want some more?”
She tilted her hips, arched her back. “More.”
Henrik held tight to his grip on the lust when it tried to run rampant. This was why he shouldn’t have followed her inside. How was he going to walk out in a matter of minutes? How? He swung his hand in an upward slap, glancing off her left ass cheek. Harder than the first time, due in part to his frustration. He could hear Ailish’s fingernails scratching on the wall as he delivered another smack. Another. “No more teasing while we’re inside this house. No more.” Smack. “I can’t fight two wars at once.”
“Fine,” she sobbed. “No more teasing.”
His relief only made a brief appearance before he shot back toward blanketing desire. “When we get out, you can make me miserable all you want. When putting my cock in your pretty body won’t get us both killed.”
The next spank was firm and brooked no dissent. Ailish’s low moan had Henrik running a hand up the inside of her thigh and finding dampness. She tried to slide her legs back together with a sound of protest, but he kept them spread. The muscles of her backside flexed in his hand, an annoyed sound coming from her mouth. A solution occurred to him in that moment. An undesirable one, but a solution he sorely required. The only way he would make it out of Ailish’s room without giving in to the endless need to be inside her was to make her angry. Or keep her angry, rather. Shit, he didn’t want to do it. Having her mad and disappointed in him was like being strangled with fishing wire. Pushing her further away would be a hundred times worse. Still.
Think beyond the moment. This closet.
“Remember what I told you in the cabin, Ailish?”
When her answer emerged slurred, Henrik wanted to slam his head against the wall. She needed him. She needed him, and he had to leave. “W-which…what thing?”
He gave her one final glance of his palm, which shot her into a tiptoe position with a soft yelp. “You’re not the only one who can tease,” Henrik breathed in her ear before forcing himself to step back. Away from the warm, pliant perfection of her body, positioned as she was for a dirty, hot fuck.
“Get out,” came her voice in the darkness. When he made it to the bedroom door, he refused to let himself acknowledge the tears in her voice. If he acknowledged them, he would go mad. Would never escape the need to hold her. Make everything better.
“Lock the door behind me and stay put,” Henrik commanded, even though there was little point in directing her. Not when the only way he would leave his position outside her door was in a body bag.