Page 170 of Like Grim Death: Part One
The words pierce me because I need him in a different way right now, but I feel selfish for my own needs and so, on his second command,I don’t even hesitate.
I do what he says, because… Because it’s what I always do, isn’t it? As I lean forward, my mouth open, tongue out and lips parted, those thoughts start to prick at my brain.
He’s telling me to lick his cum from his fingers that just came from my ass, right after I asked him to hold me.
I freeze, swallowing a lump in my throat as I close my mouth, light-headedness sweeping over me. I feel unsteady, even on my hands and knees.
For some reason, Atlas’s words echo in my head.“If you ever wanted anything more for yourself, Ella, if you ever wanted to be something…run.”
A hand comes over my lips. He presses himself to me, and the salty taste invades my mouth, my nose, all of my senses, bringing me back to the present.
“Open your mouth, pretty girl.” His words aren’t gentle. He grabs my hair, yanking it back, and I cry out, parting my lips. He slips his index finger and middle inside of my mouth, dragging it over my tongue.
I stare at him, feeling like a puppet. Like I’ve been detached from this entire thing. My mind isn’t even here. Like he’s using me, almost in the same way he used that man to get his anger out.
Hasn’t he always? Isn’t that what he does?
I want to run. I want to get up and run and lock myself in the bathroom and take a bath and scrub my skin clean.
I feel dirty, and I’ve never felt that way with him.
My face and neck and chest are so hot as he pushes his fingers further back, causing me to gag, my throat tightening. Then I’m coughing, and helaughs,pulling his hand out of my mouth.
I sit back on my calves, completely naked as I wipe my arm over my mouth, tears pricking behind my eyes. I can’t look at him.
I wrap my arms around my chest, wanting to grab the shirt just underneath me, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want him to see any more of me.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low, “look at me.”
My pulse flies in my chest, my thoughts muddied, and I don’t even know what to say. I couldn’t describe how I’m feeling if I had to.
I’ve never really stood up for myself. Not with my mom. Not with Maverick. Not… ever. Just one toy after another. A pawn for my mom, when she realized my body could draw in her next fix. Something for Maverick to use, when he understood no one would come looking for me, and no one would care how horribly he treated me.
But he doesn’t,another part of my brain whispers.He loves me. I live here. I don’t work. He doesn’t care. He kills for me. I…WhatdoI do?
“Ella.” Irritation is laced through those words. A second later, he’s grabbing my face, tilting my chin up. We’re both on our knees, but he’s far taller than me either way. When I lift my gaze to his, I see anger in his eyes, even in the dimness of the room. His bright blue irises seem to darken, black pits in the night. “What are you thinking?”
I can’t tell him.
I can’t speak at all. I just feel… ashamed.
“Talk to me,” he says, his voice low as his eyes search mine. But I see it, and it causes my heart to soften. I see some of the vulnerability, like when he told me to tell him I was his. It wasn’t commanding, like usual. Not quite possessive, either. It was… a reassurance. And since when does Maverick Astor need reassurances? Maybe everything from tonight is getting to him too.
Still, I shake my head, that pressure building there, behind my eyes. “I’m just tired. I’m sorry.” Even my voice betrays me, shaky and despondent.
And before I can decide what he’s going to do next—let this go, let us get back to bed, or push me—he does the latter. Literally. He’s pushing on my chest, climbing over me, forcing me, completely naked, onto my back, on the floor.
I’m stunned, my arms by my sides as he towers over me and I get my legs straightened out, his palms planted beside my head.
“Tell me what you’re fucking thinking.” I’m trapped beneath him, his knees on either side of my hips.
“Mavy,” I try, using the nickname I have for him, the one I think he used to hate but now kind of doesn’t mind, “I’m okay. I just…I’m just tired.” My throat closes up, air constricted in my chest. I curl my hands into my fists at my side but don’t touch him. Iamtired. I’m spent, and I need to pee, and clean up and…
“Are you embarrassed?” His expression doesn’t change with the question.
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“I meant what I said, Ella.” He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear before he presses his fingertips to my collarbone. He doesn’t push, putting any weight on it, but it’s a possessive gesture all the same. “I own you. I can do anything I want with you. You gave me that power, didn’t you?”
