Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Tink

I don’t know where to look. At the image in the mirror of this man kneeling between my spread thighs, my body on display from the rope work. At the man himself, exploring my pussy with his mouth as if he wasn’t doing the same thing fewer than twenty-four hours ago.

The logic gets twisted up in my head, but I can’t help it. There’s no space for thinking clearly. There’s only his touch and the ropes holding me as helpless as his hands bracketing my thighs.

If he lets go, I’ll fall.

I’m terribly afraid that I’m falling despite that.

He sucks hard on my clit, and my frantic mental circling thoughts morph into a high keening sound. I’m only partially embarrassed to realize it’s coming out of my mouth. I thrash, but even I can’t say if I’m trying to get closer to his wicked tongue or put more distance between us.

It doesn’t matter. I’m completely at his mercy. I won’t be going anywhere until he allows it.

The knowledge spins beneath my skin, gathering strength and heat. Trapped, yes. But not helpless. A fine line we’re treading. Too far in either direction and he’ll trigger a response I have no control over. One of true terror.

“Tink.” He doesn’t look up, barely lifts his head enough to speak. “Tell me something.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer, which is just as well. I can’t quite find the breath in my lungs to form words with his lips ghosting over my clit. “How often did you watch me scene in the Underworld?”

He resumes circling my clit with his tongue slowly. Not quite teasing but also not getting me where I need to be. More like he wants to memorize the exact shape of me, to file away every involuntary shake and shudder and moan.

Like this means as much to him as it’s starting to mean to me.

“Every time.” The truth bursts from me before I have a chance to call it back. “I didn’t want to but … Every single time.”

“Mmm.” Another of those slow licks. “You have a favorite?”

My favorites are all more recent, all involving me. “You and Alaric,” I gasp. Alaric is one of the few switches on staff at the Underworld. “I love watching you top him.”

His dark chuckle curls my toes. “Dirty girl. It’s a shame he’s traveling for the near future. I suppose you’ll have to do with Gaeton as a substitute.” He glances up. “You really do want to watch me take his ass, don’t you?”

“Yes.” It’s not even a question.

“I’ll give you everything you want, beautiful girl. Everything you need.” He moves before I have a chance to register his plans. My view goes topsy-turvy as he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I curse, but he just laughs and smacks my ass. “I’m not interested in having in him in bed with us right now, though. Tonight is about us.”

Us.

How can he disarm me with a single word? It’s not fair, but I can’t quite manage to dredge forth anger as he dumps me onto the bed, careful that I don’t land on my bound arms. Hook flips me onto my stomach and catches my hips to drag me to the edge of the mattress. He kicks my legs wide, the height of the bed ensuring I can barely touch the floor, and palms my pussy. “I’m taking what’s mine now.”

“Can’t take something I served to you on a silver platter,” I grind out.

His laugh licks up my spine. “True enough.” A crinkle of a condom and I turn my head to the side to watch him roll it over his cock. He doesn’t give me a show; he’s too intent on our destination. He notches his cock at my entrance and that’s the only warning I get before he plunges deep, sheathing himself to the hilt.

I whimper, but he doesn’t give me time to adjust. He palms my ass, squeezing and spreading me, and making a faint growling sound as if he can’t help himself. “The things you do to me.”

Something goes melty inside me despite my best efforts. I’m not even doing anything, and he’s so fucking undone by me. Hell if that isn’t as intoxicating as any drug I’ve ever tried. More, even.

He leans over me and gently guides my face to the other side. I see his intention immediately. From this position, the mirror gives a perfect view of us. He hasn’t taken off his pants, and the sight of him partially clothed against my nakedness and rope does things for me. It does a whole lot.

He pulls out almost all the way and slams into me. This time, there’s no stopping, no slowing down, no checking in. He’s sure of me. He damn well should be. I’m on my toes, trying to angle my hips to take him deeper, trying to move with his thrusts, trying to do anything but simply take it.

Impossible. I’m immobile and held steady by his big hands on my hips, by his ropes binding my upper body. The thickness of them rubs against my skin with every rough stroke, a slick slide that has me moaning almost as much as the feeling of his cock stretching me.

“Jameson.”

“That’s right, beautiful girl. See me.” There are layers to his words, depths I’m afraid to sink into for fear of drowning. This should just be fucking, but it doesn’t feel like only fucking. It feels like he’s reached into the very core of me and now he’s pulling out bits and pieces with every thrust, exposing the weak and terrified part I keep hidden.

My throat burns, and my eyes go hot. What the hell is happening to me? “I don’t … I can’t …”

“Let it go.” His soft command lashes me with more finesse than any flogger.

I come with a sob. I fight the orgasm the same way I fight the bindings, but the struggle only seems to make the pleasure go higher. The last shudder works through my body as Hook carefully turns me over and sits me up. He studies me, his dark eyes seeing too much. They always see too much.

I think I’m crying. I can’t be certain. I can’t be certain of anything anymore. My gaze drops to his still-hard cock, and for some reason that makes the horrible heat clogging my throat so much worse. “You didn’t come.”

“Not yet.” He frames my face with his big hands and strokes away my tears with his thumbs. I try to pull away, but he holds me immobile. “Tears don’t mean weakness, Tink. Even if they did, there’s no shame in weakness with those you trust.”

“You’re assuming a lot,” I whisper.

“No, I’m not.” He moves onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. I hate that I feel self-conscious on top of everything else, which only makes my emotional response that much stronger. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t even use my own hands to wipe them away.

I can’t do this.

Why did I think I could do this, that anything would be simple with Hook? He’s always asked too much, demanded I act against my instincts. Defend. Run. Hide. He won’t let me do any of it. If I wasn’t a goddamn coward, I’d let him as close as he seems to want to be. I would see this sham of a marriage as a chance to maybe have something I’ve wanted since I was a kid, a burning desire that has been used against me time and time again. I might even love this man with his wicked charm and wounds that are far too similar to mine.

But I am a coward.

“Pirate,” I gasp.

He’s moving before the word is completely out of my mouth. I can’t see what he’s doing but then the bindings are gone, and I suck in a breath as if I’m drowning. Hook yanks the ropes away from my skin, and I can barely process that he cut them before he’s wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.

“Take a slow breath, Tink. Deep inhale, deep exhale.” Hook wraps me in his arms, and even though every part of me wants to run, to put as much distance as possible between us, I can’t do anything but sit there and shake. And cry, goddamn it, because I never stopped once the first tear fell.

“You’re safe.” He somehow gets the comforter up around us, creating a cocoon of warmth.

“Not that. Never that.”

His grip tightens on me before he seems to make himself relax. “Yes, safe. Right here, right now, you are fucking safe.”

Even as my mind spins in increasingly frantic circles, my body melts into him. I cannot reconcile the two, cannot understand how I can be so afraid and so comforted at the same time by the same man, so I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his shoulder. My body continues its efforts to shake itself to pieces. Even knowing it’s a result of the adrenaline crash, I resent the weakness.

Or maybe I resent the truth I can’t escape. My weakness goes soul deep. No matter how strong, how fierce, how mean I am, at my center, I’m still the scared teenager who fell for a monster’s false kindness. I’m so, so afraid to repeat that same mistake with this man. My instincts tell me he’s nothing like Peter. But then, history proves that my instincts aren’t to be trusted.

Especially not where my heart is concerned.

I still can’t make myself leave Hook’s embrace. I take the comfort he offers, soaking it up like a flower seeking the sun. I can’t seem to help myself.

Seconds tick by into minutes. I keep expecting him to ask me what triggered the safe word. I really should know better by now. Hook is too smart. He planned too carefully, was there easing me from step to step, studying every reaction and adjusting his course accordingly. There isn’t a single damn reason for me to have safed out, and we both know it.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs against my temple. “I pushed you too hard.”

The words burrow beneath my skin, leaving sick guilt in their wake. My shakes have subsided, but I make no move to leave his embrace, and he holds me just as firmly as he has from the moment we assumed this position. If I’m smart, I’ll let him shoulder this guilt, deserved or not. Hook isn’t heartless, no matter what I fear. If he thinks he edged into harming me, he’ll back off. A desperately needed reprieve and …I can’t do it. I can’t be that cold, even if I’m the one who will pay the price in the end. “No, you didn’t.” My voice sounds as if I’ve smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Tink—”

I know better than to speak truths into this delicate space, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s becoming a horrible habit around Hook. “I’m so afraid.”

He goes rigid beneath me for the span of a heartbeat. A tensing and then it’s gone, and he’s as relaxed as he’s ever been. I recognize it for a lie now.

I close my eyes. “It’s not your fault, not really. I can’t trust you. You see that, right? Except I kind of want to trust you when you tell me I’m safe, and that is the scariest thing of all.” I think I care about you. I think it might be even worse than that. I might be falling for you. Words I can’t—won’t—speak. If he knows my heart is teetering on the brink, nothing will stop him from a full-scale siege. If the last few days have taught me anything, it’s that I don’t stand a chance if all the brakes are gone.

“I’m not him,” he speaks slowly, softly, but no less intensely for it. “You are not the same person you were. Fuck, Tink, you were sixteen when he got his hooks into you.”

“I obviously haven’t learned my lesson.”

“I’m not him,” he repeats, though this time there’s something else in his deep voice. Something like … hurt.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I am messing this up, and I don’t even know what this is. Fake marriage. Revenge plot. A whole lot of lust. I worry my bottom lip. Even my mental list feels a bit like a lie. I finally shift back enough that I can see Hook’s face.

For once, he isn’t offering me a single damn thing. He’s shut up tighter than the vault in Hades’s office. Only the faint tension in his body gives him away. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I don’t comfort. Hell, I don’t even communicate that well unless it’s snark. Negotiating a scene is a whole hell of a lot different than navigating this emotional minefield.

“I know you’re nothing like him,” I finally manage. If I were a better person, I’d leave it there. An acknowledgement of our shared trauma, a nod to the fact that this thing is nothing like anything I’ve experienced. I’m not a better person. I’m a scarred creature who only knows how to strike out, again and again, until it’s left alone. Until there’s no one else. “But you’re no Prince Charming, either.”

I expect Hook to set me down and walk away. It’s the only rational response. He’s handled my aftercare. If I’m not fine now, I’m recovered enough to handle the rest myself. Only a masochist would want to keep spending time with me, and that’s not his kink.

He smooths back the few tendrils of my hair that have come free of the braid. “And you’re no pure princess locked in a tower. We’re alike, you and me. We’ll survive whatever life throws at us, no matter the cost. There’s no place for innocence in our world, and there’s sure as fuck no place for chivalry, either.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “For better or worse, Tink. We have time to figure it out.”

But he’s wrong.

Time is the one thing we don’t have.