Page 62 of Pretty Pink Poison
I shuddered at how he gave me praise even while I was on my knees, how he knew maybe better than I did that even when he thought he was punishing me, he was at my mercy, too.
I moved up and down his length, swirling my tongue and digging my nails into his thighs as he encouraged me further. “Just like that, Pink.
He pulled me from his cock and lifted me up. “This is where he tried to make you small,” he said, voice rough. “You feel that way anymore?”
I took a breath and then let it out slow, realizing there wasn’t a shakiness to it anymore. “I’m not scared anymore, Bane.”
I felt the pads of his fingertips across my cheek as he murmured, “You never should have been scared. You were always strong enough. And I’m going to make sure you always feel that. You understand?”
I shuddered. Not from fear but from the absolute finality in his promise. I nodded slowly.
“Good. You’re not going to be scared of a single thing. And damn sure not a single person but me, Pink.”
I chuckled at that. “You can’t conquer all my fears, Bane.”
His growl ricocheted off the walls of the small space. “Watch me.”
He opened the door then and pulled me out from what used to be my hell to lead me down the hall to my room. He made me sit on my bed and then he went to the drawer and pulled each of the masks out. All of them.
“Pick one.” His original skull balaclava mask, Ghostface, another intricate skull on all black, the phantom. He even had a spiked gas mask, but none of those were the one that came to me that night in Rafe’s bedroom. These all chased away the dread of that one mask and left heat in fear’s wake.
Yet, as I stared at him with those perfect high cheekbones, that strong jaw and scruff from not shaving all day, I knew I wanted even more. I wanted all of him as he stood at the bottom of my bed. “You going to beonlythe stranger who fucks me again? I don’t want you in the dark no matter how good it is. No matter if we fuck in the closet while I chase away all my fears. I don’t want the mask either. I want the real you, not the ghost of you.”
“You know you can’t have me that way, Pink. Obligations are what they are.”
“I’m sick of obligations, and I’m sick of doing what’s expected of us.” I got off the bed and walked around my room. I went to my drawer and pulled the lighter from it to light the candles around my room. “My mother used to say candles gave her hope, that they could burn so long even with so little light around them.”
“She wasn’t there for you. She’s as much to blame as him.”
“Maybe…but she was a product of her upbringing and experience. She was the one who let me finish my doctorate rather than marry your brother early.”
“And? She could have chosen not to lock you in that closet,” he pointed out. “Choice should defeat nurture and nature at some point, baby girl.”
“I agree. But then again, I’m contemplating being with a man who can’t choose me over obligation.”
His jaw worked. “Not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” I looked at the masks on the bed and then at him before I told him, “Keep the masks if you want. I’ll have you like I would have a stranger but nothing more, Bane.”
He seemed to be considering what I meant, but I didn’t have time to tell him. Instead, I went to find my father’s liquor in his study and started to take them from his hutch. Bane had followed and watched without asking questions.
I picked up a bottle of his favorite whiskey. “This one’s his favorite.”
“Decent taste, baby doll, but I’ll get you that back home. You don’t need his.” He shrugged as he leaned on my father’s desk, eyeing me curiously.
I didn’t want a drink. The smell of it actually turned my stomach. It reminded me of how mad he’d get when he drank it. Instead, I wanted to do what we came here to, I wanted every memory destroyed into something better.
I held Bane’s gaze as I tipped the bottle slowly and we both watched as the amber liquid swayed toward the bottle’s opening and then splashed out on the Persian rug. I stepped back and kept going, pouring it everywhere in the room.
I took bottle after bottle and poured.
“Fuck, Pink,” Bane swore but he didn’t move. He watched me and licked his lips as if he was mesmerized by my destruction. I reached for another bottle and another and another to fold intothe crook of my arms and then I walked up the stairs pouring it on each step. I made sure to douse the closet’s door too, and then I left a trail to my room.
I wanted that place to burn.
But before we left, I turned to Bane who’d followed me and told him. “Take the masks and put one on.”
He didn’t fight with me about it. He did as he was told, choosing a tear gas mask to slide on, one he knew I freaking loved. It felt like home, like comfort, like a language we both knew even when no one else did.
