His Property(15)

I could almost feel the pain of the belt as it lashed against my skin, craved it even. And I realized now why he did those things. Because the physical exertion, the physical pain and dominance allowed him to work out his aggression and not have to deal with the emotions.

Is that why I craved the pain he inflicted on me? Because it was a way for me to feel something, to share something with him, while at the same time being protective of my heart, being able to use the physical pain to blot out the emotional pain I was feeling when it came to him?

The thought was disturbing, but before I could consider it further, Liam grabbed my shoulders and pushed me up against the wall. He lowered his mouth to mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.

Instead, he whispered to me, slow and deep and dark. “Why would I have brought you here?”

“Because you wanted to prove to yourself it isn’t real. You did everything you could, right, Liam? You tried to get my father to pay, but he didn’t. So now you have no excuse but to keep me.”

His hand tightened on my hip and his brow furrowed angrily. “If you think I won’t spank you right here in front of everyone, you’re very, very wrong.”

I stared back at him, not looking away, not giving in this time. This was usually the point where I’d submit, where I’d give in to his demands, where I’d beg for him to punish me, to fuck me.

That same thought zinged through my brain -- that having him hurt me physically and use me sexually was a way for me to feel close to him.

But this time I didn’t give in.

He pinned my body against the mirrored wall behind us, and his hands snaked up under my dress, bunching it up around my waist. He still had my panties, and so I was naked from the waist down, my bare ass cheeks pushed against the coolness of the smooth surface behind me.

“This is what you want?” he demanded. “For me to fuck you right here, for me to show the world what a bad girl you’ve been?”

“Like I care,” I spat back. “Like I care what you do to me. You’ve already had me on my knees, sucking your dick in the parking garage. Why not fuck me right here?”

His hands tightened on my ass and he forced my legs apart with his hips.

“That’s what you want?” I whispered. “This is what you’d rather do? Humiliate me, fuck me in public, bruise my skin instead of admitting how you feel?”

“I feel nothing,” he growled, “Ever. And the sooner you believe that, the better off you’ll be.”

“Then you’re the one who’s the prisoner, Liam. Not me. And I feel nothing but sorry for you.”

His chest heaved and his jaw tightened. The heat which had been radiating off of him was as hot as the sun. He was going to screw me right here, right in front of everyone. He was going to cross the line from slightly twisted to completely and totally fucked up, I could feel it.

But then he let me go and stepped back.

I raced to pull down my skirt, even more exposed now that his body wasn’t in front of mine.

And it was just in time.

An elderly couple dressed to the nines – him in an expensive suit, her in an elegant red dress with a matching hat – walked by. The woman met my eye and gave me a smile, the kind of smile that old people gave you when they thought you were cute.

She glanced at Liam and then smiled at me again, and her intent was clear. It was a “Oh, young love is so sweet” kind of smile.

If only she knew the truth.

Liam paid them no mind, but it wasn’t until they’d turned around the corner that he spoke.

“Fine,” he said, shrugging. “Then go.”

“What?”

“If that’s what you think, that I’m the one who’s a prisoner, then go. You’re free.”

“So my father can be killed,” I said. “Yeah, great choice. Stay with a monster or have my father’s blood on my hands.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

He moved closer to me then, but this time it wasn’t to dominate me. I could tell from his body language. “You might think that I brought you here so that I could prove to myself that I had no choice but to keep you. But you’re doing the same thing, Emery. You’re using the fact that you can’t let your father die to justify the fact that you’re staying here. You’re using the same excuse I am.”

“No,” I said emphatically. But then I thought about it. “Fine, maybe I am. But at least I’m willing to be honest. At least I’m willing to try to make this real.”

“This could never be real,” he said. “Not with a monster like me.” His tone was bitter but resigned as he used my own words against me, and I saw the acceptance on his face. “This is over. I’ll pay your father’s debt. I’ll release you. You’ll be free to go.”