The kiss changed from foreign to welcoming; our bodies fell together. His hands slipped from my face to my hair, yanking my head to kiss me harder. My fingers—both usable and broken—looped around his wrists, holding onto him rather than pushing away.
I never thought I’d find something so singular and sweet.
But I had.
He’d found me.
He’d given me one night of demands and acceptance, and this was goodbye.
All control drained from my body as my head lolled in his hold. I gave up entirely. Whatever this was, I didn’t want it to end.
His lips pressed mine harder, encouraging sparks as our mouths never stilled.
I shifted restlessly, desperately as my attention riveted to his dexterous tongue and masterful manipulation.
He forced me on a strange tide where I no longer listened to the outside world but my inner one.
The one I’d lost touch with since I was murdered and bought. The one that was so much bigger than the universe I lived in.
The slow incineration quickened as our mouths turned hungry and messy. There was no synchronisation anymore.
“Do you feel it, Pim?” He panted between kisses. “Do you feel your body preparing for me?” His voice switched to a growl, his lips brutal on mine. “Shit, I want you.”
My back bowed as he jerked me forward into his embrace.
Something happened to me.
I was no longer on the same path.
I’d stepped off it.
No, I’d been dragged off it. By this man.
This sinful angel who’d somehow become my defender and liberator all in one.
I didn’t know him.
But I wanted to.
He’d saved my life by giving me a second of happiness. I wanted him to remain in my life. But I knew that wasn’t possible.
He practically hissed with heat. I couldn’t think while he looked at me like that, kissed me like that, stole everything from me like that.
His tongue slid leisurely along my bottom lip, making me crave what he gave so recklessly. I wanted his tongue on me, inside me, consuming me. I wanted things I didn’t understand or ever thought I’d contemplate.
His heavy-lidded glower was furious, angry, full of lust, lust, lust. He screamed sex. But not rape. Sex. Consensual sex—so far from the realm of everything I knew.
His chest rippled as his hand cupped my cheek again. His belly tightened, making his dragon smoke and sizzle.
“I’ve finally made you talk, Pim.” The glitter in his gaze danced with knowledge. “Your body likes me, even if you don’t.”
The surge of complicated, unknown emotions battered me just as nastily as Master A’s fists. I didn’t know why, but in that second, I was devastated—not from the pleasure he’d given, but the low that would hit so damn hard once he left.
I wanted to live in this moment for eternity.
I wanted to find self-worth and happiness in this false togetherness. I wanted companionship but by wanting that, it made me weak because I wanted to lean on him after leaning on myself for so, so long.
I liked him.
He kissed me again, stopping my thoughts and forcing me to accept him on a deeper level than I ever intended.
I was no longer a slave or imprisoned or trapped.
I was kissed.
Kissed.
Mr. Prest slowly pulled away, taking his heat, warmth, and protection with him.
That was…I didn’t have words.
Exquisite?
Devine?
Terrifying?
I hovered in the final bliss of the best thing I’d been given in so long, plummeting into lethargy so heavy and consuming, I struggled to keep my eyes open. What had he done to me? Why did I feel drugged and obsessed and so, so tired?
He didn’t move.
His gaze waged war with things far too deep and dangerous for just a kiss, and I was grateful when he shook his head, carefully masking whatever had happened.
His lips arranged into a self-satisfied smirk. “I take it that was your first?”
My cheeks heated.
I closed my eyes, already coming down from the torrential high he’d shown me.
His knuckles nudged my chin, startling my gaze to open.
“How many other firsts have you been denied?”
What…what do you mean?
Standing from his kneeling position, he sat on the bed and ran a hand over his mouth.
Something hot and needy sprang to life inside me. I didn’t know what it was, but it was tentative but strong, confused but focused.
Twisting to face me, he pressed his fingertip against my forehead. “Has someone made you wet just by talking to you? Telling you what they’re about to do? Giving explicit detail of what they like about your body, what you sound like, taste like, beg like?” He bowed closer, his baritone making me drunk. “Whispering how fucking much they need to be inside you until you shatter the instant touch is given?”
Wow…
The shock and power of his voice almost made me forget my muteness. My head shifted slightly side to side in a very clear and none permitted no.
He exhaled heavily. “I take it that’s another first. Finally answering a question.” His teeth flashed in the low-lights. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”
The strange thing was, I believed him. He hated Master A almost as much as I did. He wouldn’t run to him and spill whatever we’d just done. It wouldn’t benefit him in any way.
I stiffened as his finger dropped from my forehead, along my nose, to my lips. “How about this first?” His head lowered, his mouth landing on mine for another brief kiss. “Has anyone kissed you so fucking hard you’re bruised when you come up for air? Has anyone kissed you for fucking hours, tormenting you until you’re drenched for his cock?”
God, stop.
I pressed my lips together. A slight tenderness existed from his attentions.
This time, I fought the urge to reply, but he read the way my tongue licked the redness he’d graced me with.
I shivered as he swayed upward, removing the temptation of his kiss.
The talk of firsts and the indescribable way he spoke about them shoved aside my circumstances and made me wish.
Wish for a life to indulge in firsts. Rather than wish for death to end them.
His finger moved again, leaving my mouth to trail along my chin, neck, to my breasts. Cupping one, he murmured, “What about here, Pim? Has anyone sucked so fucking hard on your nipple it swells and stings? Anyone bit until you cried for mercy or clamped toys on you, making you obey all commands?” His touch rolled my nipple, squeezing just a little.
No…
My breathing turned into a gasp as his fingertip followed the soft curve of my breast, to my ribcage, waist, finally tracing my belly button. His intense gaze hinted he wished to touch me between my legs, but he wouldn’t.
Caught up in the insane web we’d woven, I trembled as he said, “I wanted to give you another first. I wanted to make you come. I see now it would’ve been impossible for you because you’ve never felt true pleasure.”
His forehead furrowed. “There are so many firsts to explore with your pussy, Pim. Have you ever felt a man’s tongue inside you? His mouth on your clit? What about his fingers so fucking deep inside you, you forget how to be human and become an animal instead?”
The tightening in my limbs layered me with yet more sultry seduction.
“I want to give you so many firsts.” He leaned toward me, his eyes hooded, his mouth only millimetres from mine. “I want to—”
Disaster struck.
The door exploded inward.
Shrapnel clattered as hinges buckled and wood panels splintered.
No!
Tony’s grunts ripped through the silence as he destroyed the entryway with a baseball bat—demolishing the one thing protecting us.
Master A stood behind him, barking instructions.
My heart sprinted from the tentative wanderi
ng in paradise and slammed back into its prison.
No, no, no!
That was why he’d given us so much time. Why Mr. Prest had the privilege of lying beside me unhurt.
Master A called for backup.
“What the fuck?” Mr. Prest launched himself upright, his body sprung and ready for a fight. “Get the hell out. I’m not done.”
I shrivelled as Master A stalked into the room. In his hand, he held a gun.
I’d never seen him with the black revolver, but the way he wielded it—with confidence and precision—said he wasn’t a stranger to such things.
His gaze leapt between my nakedness and Mr. Prest's trouser-clad form. “Did you have fun fucking my slave?” He cocked his head condescendingly, glaring at me. “Did you behave, Pim?”
I looked down, hiding behind sleep-tangled hair.
Fuck off, you mutant!
The usual proverbial sword and shield I fought with had been stupidly abandoned during Mr. Prest’s wicked kiss.
I didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. To live in hatred and pain anymore.
Nonsensical questions ran riot as I did my best to sink into mute protection.
How long had Mr. Prest let me rest all while tracing the sweetest strokes on my back? How much time had we wasted that could’ve been spent kissing before Master A arrived to tear us apart?
It doesn’t matter.
It’s over.
I was on my own again. Like always.
Mr. Prest sucked in a breath. “Did you not hear me? I. Said. I’m. Not. Done.”
“Oh, yes you fucking are.” Master A turned brick-red with rage as his hand trembled around the gun. “Get out. I want that yacht, Mr. Prest, but I’ve paid you more than enough. Leave!”
My shoulders slumped as a crystal-clear conclusion hit me. My plans to use Mr. Prest to free me vanished. He would never free me. He had a contract with my owner, and that contract trumped whatever silly kiss we’d just enjoyed.
Don’t ask him for more.
It would be your fault if he died.
Tears stung my eyes as Master A stalked forward. He barely looked at me, obsessed at kicking this trespasser from his house.
The fact he’d waited for Tony to act as support reaffirmed what a spineless coward he was. He couldn’t stomach facing Mr. Prest on his own.
The muzzle of the gun came up, pointing squarely at his dragon tattoo.
Memories of Mr. Prest telling me the murder count of my cowardly owner sent catastrophic energy into my legs. I knew my fate. I accepted it. But I wouldn’t let another bleed for me—even if he wasn’t innocent of crime.
Mr. Prest was the only man who’d been nice to me.
I won’t watch him die.
Instinct controlled my body. Impulse overrode sanity and submission. I did something I’d never done. And I didn’t do it for me.
I did it for him.
Dashing forward, I placed myself in front of the thief who’d kissed me. In front of the gun. In front of whatever would happen to me because of my bold stupidity.
The room shot silent.
I froze solid.
Horror at what I’d just done compounded with lead weights, making me sink, sink, sink with fear.
Tony’s mouth gaped as his watery gaze gawked. “Holy shit.”
Master A’s eyes literally popped from his head. He spluttered in livid disgust, “Get the fuck out of the way, Pim. I’ll deal with you later.”
My shoulders squared, not caring my naked form would offer no protection. There’d been no one to stand up for me. I would die. But at least the sad cycle would be over.
The terror at what I’d live through rolled my spine as I fought the urge to step away and obey. I didn’t know why I stood up for a man twice my size with so many more skills at staying alive than me.
But I did.
It was my last attempt at being Tasmin before Pimlico was gone.
Don’t shoot him.
Let him go.
Mr. Prest yanked me back and behind him, wrapping his naked arm around me. “She’s confused. I ordered her to protect me if you fucking barged in.” His fingers dug into my skin. “Don’t hurt her for a command I gave.”
You’re lying.
He’s trying to protect you.
“Oh, she’ll be hurt all right. Don’t you worry about that. All you need to worry about is getting your fucking ass out of my house. Right now!” Master A’s finger teased the trigger, pointing directly at Mr. Prest’s tattoo. Cocking his head at the mess Tony had made of the door, he yelled, “I want you out!”
“It’s not dawn.”
“Don’t care.”
“She’s mine until I go.”
“Wrong.” Master A’s hand whitened around the gun. “She’s mine, asshole. I won’t ask again.”
Mr. Prest didn’t budge. He just crossed his arms.
I tiptoed from behind him, wanting to be in position to either run or kneel—needing to do something to cease this tense situation.
Master A changed tactics. His blue eyes smiled cruelly as he swung the gun’s muzzle from the interloper to me.
I stiffened.
“You have something I want, Mr. Prest. Count yourself fucking lucky because if you didn’t, I would’ve shot you the moment you took my Pimlico. However, wanting something is your issue, too.”
I gasped as everything blackened with impending murder.
The sinister hole where a bullet would fire hypnotised me. I couldn’t look away.
If this were the most humane way it would end, so be it. I’d had my first proper kiss. I’d been treated well for the first time in years. If this was the epilogue on my awful, awful story, I was fine with that.
My muscles relaxed, ready to accept the tearing, lacerating, excruciating lead.
Please, let it be a clean shot.
“You want this whore.” Master A waggled the weapon. “You want her enough to keep her alive. I’ll gladly fucking kill her if it makes you obey our deal.”
Do it.
Get it over with.
Mr. Prest’s face turned monstrous. “You’d kill your own slave rather than give me a few more hours?”
“Absolutely.” His reply was instantaneous. “So, what’s it gonna be? Her or you. I’ve been tolerant enough. She needs a fucking shower to rid your filth and then a reminder who she belongs to.”
Just shoot me.
I didn’t want a reminder. I didn’t want anyone touching me ever again.
Mr. Prest glowered. “You’re a cunt.”
Master A bared his teeth. “What’s it gonna be?”
“You won’t do it.”
“I won’t?” His forehead furrowed with rage. “You want me to fucking prove it?”
He’ll do it.
Maybe, that was Mr. Prest’s plan? To have me shot so he could walk away, knowing I wouldn’t suffer anymore? He said he wouldn’t care about my treatment—that we all had personal demons to bear.
It was merciful to dispatch me this way.
Master A stomped toward me and fisted my hair, jerking me close. “Let’s see how much she bleeds, shall we?”
Mr. Prest took a step, forgetting himself as fury coated his features. “Get your hands off her.”
The cool threat of death lodged against my temple as Master A grunted, “My patience is done.” He stabbed me harder with the gun.
The tang of metal shot up my nose.
“Say goodbye to the whore. Keep your fucking yacht, I don’t—”
“Stop!” Mr. Prest dropped his arms, splaying his hands in surrender. “Don’t kill her.” His gaze locked on mine, full of livid acrimony and apology. “You’ve just made the worst mistake of your life, Alrik Åsbjörn.”
The gun twisted against my head. The round bruise numbed my skull where a bullet would ricochet and end me.
“Wrong, Elder. You did. Give me what I want—what I motherfucking paid for—and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
Mr. Pre
st laughed. The sound landed aggressively on the floor, smoking with icy mirth and arctic promises. “Fourth time you used my name.” Storming forward, he snapped, “You’ve just fucked me off, Alrik and that is not a good thing to fucking do.”
Swiping his blazer and t-shirt from the carpet, he gave me a look. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could watch you die. But I won’t. Your life is yours and I won’t meddle in it anymore.”
He shook his head. “So much for more firsts, Pim. I’m sorry.”
Master A’s red face flowed like lava as he harpooned the air with the gun. “Out!”
“You’ll regret this.” Mr. Prest lowered his jaw, watching him from murderous eyes. “I’ll make you curse everything that you are.” Pointing a finger at me, he snarled, “Don’t fucking hurt her. It’s my fault—not hers. Let me fix my own mistakes.” Throwing me one last unreadable look, he vanished out the door.
Wait, you can’t go!
The moment he’d disappeared, Master A smirked. “I guess I won that, huh? Shit, that makes me hard.” He kissed my cheek. “Get in the shower. I have something special planned for you.” With the threat lingering in the air, he pushed me away and followed his unwanted guest, leaving me alone with Tony.
Tony—the asshole who’d shared me too many times—blew me a heinous kiss. “Do what he says, sweetie. The games will begin as soon as that bastard is gone.” He turned to go, then paused. A loud cackle fell from his lips. Bending over, he scooped up the knife Mr. Prest had stolen from the garage.
My heart sank even further into quicksand.
Shit.
Tony whipped around, tapping the blade against the baseball bat he’d beaten the door with. “Hiding contraband now, sweetness?” His chuckle sickened me. “We’ll just add that to the tally of your bad behaviour and make sure you learn your lesson.”
He saluted me with the knife. “See you soon.”
He left.
His steps echoed as he skipped down the stairs, cracking the baseball bat on the banister.
A panic attack swooped in on killing wings, suffocating me instantly.
I can’t breathe.
The room squeezed.
Stagnant unhappiness rained.
Tears ran backward down my throat as I forbid them to stream from my eyes.
I was grateful Master A had gone.
But I screamed at the hole Mr. Prest left behind. A hole that’d been warm and almost content for a few stolen hours now whistled with gales of cavernous fear.