Page 21 of Enraptured

HE’S GOING TO COME again tonight. I’m certain of it. I’ve already showered after eating my dinner here. A television appeared in my room a few days ago. It only has Netflix, but I’ll take it. Binge watching my favorite shows.

I haven’t seen Christos during the daylight for days. I stopped coming down for dinner. This isn’t beauty and the beast. No teacups dance, no French chefs whip up delights. The longer I’m here the more I feel my old life slipping away like Jessie Montgomery never existed.

But I feel him everywhere or maybe I’m just paranoid he’s watching me from hidden cameras. I’ve looked for them but so far haven’t found any. I’m slowly gaining strength and weight back. But hating myself for it. I couldn’t stomach food in Greece. But spending time with him as I have this past month is tearing me apart. I miss him. Who he was…who he could be. I miss myself…the woman I was…the woman I might not ever get to be. I’m eating just about everything his shrew of a housekeeper puts in front of me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was pregnant. My mind is a constant state of chaos.

Christos became a ghost. Haunting me, feeling his oppressive presence. His cold warmth enveloping me in the late hours of the night. He comes to me in darkness; hot lips finding the back of my neck.

I pretend to be asleep, caught up in dreams, hiding behind the pretense as I moan, sigh and melt into unwanted caresses. Something shifted in me since that day he helped the children. I tried to fight it, but he snuck in. Part of me might always hope for the golden angel to come back. As I watched him smile and laugh with those children, I glimpsed that man. It’s dreaming about that man that heats my blood, turns me on and has me wishing for impossible things.

He doesn’t press for more than touches and whispers. In fact, he often leaves me burning between my thighs. His hands never roam lower than my hip or higher than my stomach. He has supreme restraint in this new version of a familiar game. He’s seducing me slowly like a virgin in the Victorian age. Becoming a secret lover who slips under the covers hidden by shadows and leaving before first light. Like those late-night touches never happened, our breathy sighs were just the wind blowing down old chimneys.

But I know better.

The burn of his touch never leaves with the light.

It stays.

A brand, an invisible tattoo that the devil had his hands on me. I place my brush down and slide under the covers half-hoping he comes tonight, half-hoping he doesn’t. Instead of the lace teddies and wisps of silk nightgowns, I’ve chosen to sleep in my yoga pants and old Chargers T-shirt. He let me keep my clothes this time. I was grateful to have pieces of me here; reminders that I’m still Jessie from California even if that girl seems as if she lived lifetimes instead of months ago.

My senses are on alert. Every creak of the wood floor or banging of an old pipe keeps me on edge. Last night, the wind picked up knocking a branch against the window. My fists gripped the covers wondering, waiting for him to come. Despite my best efforts to keep my eyes open, they always fall shut. It must be the hot tea they make me drink before bed every night. The tea bag says chamomile and I pour the water in the cup myself. He’s not drugging me to sleep. I can only blame myself for giving in to it, knowing it’s only then that my dark beast comes to see his pet.

Somewhere between the states of consciousness he comes. I’m in a different plane. “You’re mineagápe. Forever. Someday you’ll understand…I did what I had to do.” Hot lips find my shoulder. Hands skim up under my shirt, cupping each breast as fingers lazily circle my nipples.

My breath hitches.

He hasn’t touched me like this in so long. My thighs rub together restlessly. My neck arches waiting for his kiss.

The beast’s low laugh at my throat sends shivers down my spine as his lips and teeth nip their way up behind my ear. One hand falls, sneaks under the elastic of my pants to delve between my legs.

“Christos,” I moan, riding his hand, hips gyrating back and forth.

“Yes,agápe. Let go. You. Are. So. Wet.” A finger curls up, entering me as his fingers play with my folds rubbing my clit back and forth.

I cry out. Biting my lip in shame as I come apart for him. I’m wide awake now, he’s still but by his harsh breathing, I know he’s on the brink. The beast wants the sweet release he just gave me for himself. His hands come back to my breasts, he moves his hips forward, letting me feel him against me.

He toys with my nipples and to my great shame…I grow wetter and wetter. Needing him rooted deep inside me to relieve the ache. His hands fall to the waistband of my pants, tugging them down.

“No, Christos.”

He stills, hands flexing by my hips. For a second, I expect to hear the spandex tearing in his hands. But he stops, one hand slips to the back, caressing my hips and buttocks, kneading the flesh. “Do you remember, how good it felt? How I stretched you so full?Theos, I could come right now remembering how tight you felt.”

I swallowed hard. “Of course, I remember. Dimitri had the tongue of a god. I should’ve gone with him.”

He grabs a fistful of my hair jerking me around. It’s dark, so dark in the pitch-black room, I can’t see his eyes but feel his stare on me. He lets go, only to force me on my back. He inserts a knee between my legs, pins my hands over my head, and leans down. His hot tongue slides over my collarbone. He lets my arms go as he grabs my pants, yanking them down hard. My mouth opens to protest, but nothing comes out as he buries his head between my legs, finds my swollen clit and sucks it hard forcing me to cry out. He surrenders the tiny bud, “Don’t ever speak his name again.” He shifts his body, forearms come up, pinning me under him. His head dips. I miss his kiss. I hate him. Hate myself. I’m right back where I started with him coming full-circle.

My lips part, dying for him. I’m always dying for him one way or another. But as his head descends, I turn my head refusing him. He swears in Greek, reaches down and frees himself. The thick meaty tip of him, slides up and down my slit, butts against my clit. “Tell me you want me. Admit you miss this,” he continues to guide himself with one hand through me while his other arm keeps me locked in place.

“I miss a man who never existed. I was falling in love with a man who I never thought would cheat on me.”

“I didn’t cheat on youagape. I told you to leave. I threw your freedom in your face. You refused to take it. Don’t blame your poor choices on me. You took it upon yourself to breach confidential medical records that weren’t yours to share. You chose to stay. You chose to throw your drink in my face in front of the most powerful DOM’s in the world.”

“I didn’t choose to be here now. I was recovering. You let me fall into the bottom of the pit. In Greece with Yaya…I started to stand. I almost found a way out.”

He chuckles in the dark bringing both hands to the sides of my face. “You’re starting to speak like me, little one. So poetic.” His mouth finds my temple, his cock shudders against me.

I’m soaked.

Leaking for him.

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