Chapter 13

MINA

I pulled on silky pyjama pants and a sleep singlet and sat down on my bed, my back against the pillows.

My hand still tingled from where Reuben cleaned the blood off my skin. I could still feel his touch long after the blood dried. So gentle and thorough, right before he ordered the deaths of several people.

Some would call him a monster, but my whole body throbbed in a way I hadn't felt in the longest time. Chained up in that cage, the last thing on my mind was intimacy or arousal. All of my attention was occupied with surviving.

Now, with time to think about other things, I could dwell on killing that woman.

I acted out of anger. That was the worst thing I could have done. I was trained to be cool, calm and rational. Not furious and rash. In spite of Reuben, Gianni and Damon's reassurances, I was regretful, my anger now turned inward to myself.

After a brief tap on the door, it swung inward and Reuben stepped inside. He wore black trousers and a dark grey button down, folded to his elbows. This seemed to be as casual as he ever got. I suspected he didn't own a pair of jeans or even a T-shirt. What would it take to convince him to try either of those?

He was handsome and compelling, especially with those intense, ice blue eyes. He also had the muscles to pull off a T-shirt and make women stare. Men too.

He didn't wait for an invitation. He closed the door behind him and stepped over to sit on the side of the bed.

"Have you come to tell me again that I shouldn't blame myself?" I asked. "Because you can say whatever you want I'm still going to?—"

"I didn't." He spoke in a voice that was both deep and as compelling as his eyes. "I saw your reaction to killing that woman. And to Hunter killing that other man." He seemed to be hunting for his name, but couldn't remember.

"Benny," I supplied.

He hummed his agreement in the back of his throat. "They tend to blur together after a while. That's not important. What's important is you. What you were feeling at the time."

"Are we having a therapy session?" I asked lightly.

He choked back a soft laugh. "Fuck no. Not exactly."

"Then what?" I asked. "I wasn't bothered by seeing them die. I've seen enough death that it doesn't get to me anymore."

He tilted his head back and looked over at me. "I think we both know that's not true. It does get to you. You like it. Death turns you on."

His words left me breathless for a couple of heartbeats. Of all the things people ever said to me, this was the first time I felt as though anyone actually understood me. More than that, he looked at me with absolutely no judgement. No, whatever he thought about this, he wasn't judging me for it.

"I never said I wasn't fucked up," I said.

He made no move towards me. Or away. "You're not fucked up. Everyone has things that arouse them. It's what we do with them that matters."

"You've come to share what gets you off?" I asked.

One of his eyebrows twitched. "This isn't about me. This is about you and what you need."

"And what do I need?" I whispered. The idea of being touched was terrifying, but the way my pussy reacted to his presence, to the memory of warm blood all over my hand, I needed something.

"I'm guessing you didn't touch yourself when you were in that cage," he said.

"Not…not like that," I said. I glanced down at the bed covers.

"What about before that?"

I looked back up at him. "Before that I did. I mean, I was, you know…"

"A normal eighteen-year-old woman?" His jaw clenched, clearly furious at my father and Kurt for stealing those years from me.

"If you could call me normal," I said lightly. I didn't think there was much normal about me back then, but compared to now I supposed I was.

"What did you think about?" he asked. "When you touched yourself."

I thought back. "I don't know. Guys I knew. Book boyfriends. You."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Me?"

Should I have said that? I couldn't take it back now. His raised eyebrow was a clear insistence that I explain.

"Why not you? You're strong, powerful and handsome. Dangerous. Like an open fire a girl shouldn't step into."

"But you wanted to?" His eyes darkened in a way that, under other circumstances, in another lifetime, I might have peeled off my clothes and begged him to fuck me.

"Yes," I said simply.

"Touch yourself," he whispered. "I want to see you."

I swallowed. "It's been so long."

"Exactly. You deserve to know your body belongs to you." He looked like he was about to add 'and me,' but held the words back for now. "Touch yourself."

I slipped my hand down between my legs and lightly ran the tips of my fingers over the front of my pyjama pants.

My eyes on his, I ran them up and down, barely touching the fabric, or my pussy underneath them. It felt good. Better than good. It felt as though a part of me was slowly coming back to life. That maybe I could put what Kurt did behind me. If I wasn't ready for a man to touch me, there was no reason I couldn't give myself pleasure. And give it to Reuben by doing this.

I slipped my hand down the front of my pants and over my damp pussy and throbbing clit.

"Are you wet?" Reuben asked.

"Very wet," I whispered. I traced circles around my clit with my fingertips before sliding my fingers inside myself.

"Fuck," Reuben said breathlessly. "Does that feel good?"

"So good," I murmured. I hesitated for a moment before I hooked my thumb around the waistband of my pants and pushed them down, exposing my pussy to him.

"Good girl," he whispered. "You have the most beautiful pussy I've ever seen."

I worked myself slowly, driving my fingers in deeper while I rubbed the heel of my hand against my clit. I slipped the other hand up the front of my singlet to roll my remaining nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

"That's my girl." He hadn't moved, but I saw his arousal tenting the front of his pants, his cock straining against the seams. He didn't touch me or himself, just watched while I drew closer and closer to coming.

"Reuben," I whispered. "I'm going to come."

"Good girl," he said again. "Let me see you come."

I moaned and drove my hand faster and faster before I came in a rush of sensation I hadn't felt in so long. It wasn't the most violent or intense orgasm I ever had. Instead, it was a gentle sweep of pleasure that curled my toes and made me cry out loud.

I slumped back against the pillows and pulled my fingers out of my wetness.

"You're even more beautiful when you come," he said. "So perfect."

Without thinking, I pulled my pyjama pants back up into place and rolled onto my knees. Slowly, and with my eyes still on his, I crawled towards him. I pressed my fingers, still wet with my juices, against his lower lip.

His eyes widened slightly, but he opened his mouth and took my fingers between his lips to suck them clean.

"You even taste perfect," he said as he slid his mouth along the back of my hand. "One day I'm going to taste your pussy for myself." He took my hand in his and kissed the centre of my palm.

"Thank you," I said. I seemed to have said that a lot in the last couple of weeks. "Thank you for reminding me I'm not his prisoner anymore. I can still live my life in spite of what happened. All of my life." Someday I could let him inside me. I wanted that, when the time came.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Reuben said. "Watching you come was a gift. One I won't forget. This first time between us will always be special." He didn't have to say it wouldn't be the last time, that was heavy in the air between us.

"Gianni—" I started softly.

"Also wants to be with you," he finished for me. "I'm well aware. I'm man enough to admit there are things I can't give you that he can. Damon too. As long as you don't choose them instead of me, then I don't see why we can't explore all our options. We want the same thing, what's best for you. That's the only thing that matters." He kissed my forehead and stood to adjust his pants.

"I hope you sleep well." Quiet as a ghost, he slipped back out the door and closed it behind him.

I lay down and drew the blankets over myself. I closed my eyes and did something I hadn't done in a long, long time. I fell into a deep sleep.

Reuben

I stepped away from Mina's room, grimacing at the steel in my pants. I couldn't remember being harder in my life. Watching her touch herself like that, was the single, most erotic sight I'd ever seen. I wanted to touch her. To fuck her. I would, when the time came. Seeing her get off, that was enough. For now.

I opened the door to my room at the back of the house, and stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, but didn't lock it.

If anyone entered my room, they had my permission to be inside my house. No one got past the security system. If they did, they wouldn't get past Gianni and Damon. Both knew better than to come into my private space anyway. Terry wouldn't bother.

That left Mina. She was welcome at any time, regardless of the hour, or if I was sleeping. She was one of very few people who'd survive the experience if she woke me up.

I stepped out of my clothes and left them in a neat pile on the floor. Terry would slip in and take them for washing in the morning.

My bedroom was the largest in the house, the most opulently decorated. It was also the one that looked the least lived-in. I only spent several hours a day here, mostly sleeping. There was no need to step through the door, otherwise. My library was my sanctuary and my office was for working. This was just a place to rest and store my clothes. And wash.

It was to the bathroom I headed. I closed the door behind me and turned on the shower, hot almost to the point of scalding. I stepped onto the black and white penny tiles, the same as in the house's other bathrooms, and under the water.

Washing took only a couple of minutes, but I didn't start on that yet. Instead, I leaned against the walls, the subway tiles cold against my back, and wrapped my hand around my thick cock. My erection under the water, I started to slide my hand up and down, from head to heavy balls.

My eyes closed, I pictured Mina, her legs spread to display her glorious pussy. Her hand moved over her clit, fingers pressed deep inside her. The more she worked herself, the more her fingers glistened with her own juices.

I pumped harder, remembering the way her breath came in pants and tiny moans. I didn't think she was aware of the sounds she made, but I committed each one to memory, seared into my mind like a brand.

I leaned my head back and pressed my eyes shut tighter. My lips curled back in a grimace as my orgasm rose so fast I couldn't stop it. It washed over me with the water, flooding my senses and forcing me to grit my teeth to keep from shouting out loud.

I didn't shout, ever, but I could have screamed her name in that moment. All I could think of was her. When cum exploded out of me in a rush, I wanted to spill myself into her body. I wanted to fill her so full she overflowed. I wanted to hear her scream my name as I pounded into her.

Puffing lightly, I sagged forward, my orgasm fading and leaving me exhausted and not completely satisfied.

I wouldn't be until I came inside her.