10. Chapter Ten Nathan

Chapter Ten: Nathan

I t would have been so easy to just…push her head against the car, make this all seem like an accident. But as her fingers trembled over my zipper, I realized I wanted this; I wanted her, I wanted more.

I watched her, my breath hitched, as Abby dropped to her knees. Her hands shook, fingers clumsily grappling with the metal teeth of my zipper. It was a dance she knew all too well, yet every time, it felt like she was learning the steps for the first time.

Nervous, awkward, when I knew she was so much more unflappable than that.

A liar…even when she was on her knees in front of me.

"Come on, Abby," I growled, impatience surging through me. "You've done this before."

She nodded, her eyes not meeting mine, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she was somewhere far away, lost in a sea of thoughts I couldn't navigate. I wanted her here, present with me, even in this twisted moment we were sharing.

My hand found the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. I guided her face to my clothed erection, a harsh reminder of what I wanted, what I needed from her. I pushed her against me, again and again, each movement rough enough to make a statement but restrained enough not to harm her.

"Feel that?" I sneered, my voice laced with a venom that didn't quite reach my heart. "That's what you're good for, isn't it?"

Despite myself, a sliver of annoyance crept up my spine. I wasn't trying to actually hurt her, and that held me back, made me less than what I should be in this world we lived in.

A world where might makes right, where power is taken, not given.

"Get on with it," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. But something inside me, something broken and raw, wished she would fight back, wished she would defy me, just so I could feel something other than this numbing void that had taken residence in my chest.

"Give me a second," Abby's voice was barely above a whisper, strained with the effort to remain calm. Her fingers trembled but managed to find my zipper and slowly dragged it down. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet of the garage.

With a hesitance that made my blood heat with impatience, she slid her tongue over my shaft, a tentative touch that only stoked the fire within me. I watched her closely, every flicker of her lashes, every quiver that ran through her lips as they met my skin.

But I needed more from her—more submission, more proof that she understood the gravity of this moment between us.

I reached down, my grip firm on her chin, and tilted her head back to force her eyes to mine. "Listen," My voice was a low growl, every word deliberate and heavy with threat, "If you so much as graze me with your teeth, I won't kill you, but I promise, you'll wish you were dead."

Tears welled in Abby's eyes, magnifying the fear that shone there. She nodded, ever so slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the power I held over her. I could see the conflict in her gaze—the need to survive warring with the urge to rebel against the debasement.

But survival instincts won out, as they always did.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But for now, it would have to do.

As I released her chin and watched her lower her head once more, the ache in my chest expanded. It wasn't satisfaction that filled me; it was a void, an emptiness that echoed with the fractures of my broken heart. The sight of her there, on her knees for me, should have been vindication, but instead, it was a hollow victory.

I wanted her tears. I needed them—as if seeing her cry could somehow justify the pain that clawed inside me, as if it could make me feel less alone in my suffering.

"Keep going," I commanded, a harsh whisper lost in the space between us.

She obeyed, her movements hesitant at first, then gaining a desperate sort of rhythm. But desperation wasn't what I sought—it was destruction. With a hand fisted in her hair, I directed her, forced her, pushing past her soft lips, her compliance, until she gagged around me. My breaths came out in ragged pulls; each time she choked, it was as if she was taking a part of my anguish upon herself.

"Open your eyes," I said, my voice a low growl.

Abby's tear-drenched lashes fluttered as she looked up at me, her eyes glistening with unspoken questions and fears. The vulnerability in that gaze nearly unraveled me, but I was too far gone in this twisted dance of power and pain.

"Are you enjoying this?" I demanded, needing to hear a lie, something to blame her for, to justify the cruelty I couldn't stem. "Blink twice if you are."

Her eyes closed once, a long, deliberate motion. Then twice—quick, like the beat of a hummingbird's wings. It was all the confirmation I needed to label her, to reduce her to nothing more than what I needed her to be in that moment.

"Slut," I spat the word out with venom, hating myself for it, hating her for making me need it. "Lying whore."

In the next instant, restraint shattered. With a guttural cry, I let go, the release painting her face in ropes of pearly cum. She squeezed her eyes shut, an instinctive move to protect her eyes.

But even then, she wasn't safe from me, not from my words, my anger, or my need to see her broken down.

I jerked her head back by her hair, forcing her to look at me, though her eyes remained tightly closed. "I didn't give you permission to look away," I snarled, each word laced with an edge of authority and a crack of something else—something fractured within me.

Tears had begun to mix with the white streaks on her cheeks, a canvas of her humiliation and my disgrace. I extended a finger, tracing the lines where pleasure and pain collided, watching as her tears diluted the evidence of my release.

"Open," I commanded, barely recognizing the harshness in my own voice.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the red-rimmed, glassy pools that held a broken kind of defiance. She did as she was told, her mouth parting slightly. With a flicker of satisfaction, I pushed my fingers past her lips, coated now with a mixture of salt and sin.

"Lick them clean." The words were cold, devoid of any warmth we might have shared once upon a time.

She obeyed, her tongue hesitantly wrapping around my fingers, a silent sob escaping her as she did. It was a sight that should have repulsed me, but instead, it fueled the dark fire burning within.

"Remember this," I growled, my voice low as I leaned closer, so there was no chance of misunderstanding. "Remember that the car outside, the clothes you wear, everything—it's all for show. You're nothing but a hole to me, Abby. And just like you dropped to those pretty knees here, you'll do it again and again. Because if you don't, you'll learn what it really means to piss me off."

Every word was a nail in the coffin of who I had been—of who we had been together. With each syllable, I felt something inside me splinter further, even as I reinforced the brutal facade I'd constructed.

"Understand?" I didn't wait for a verbal answer; her nod, jerky and fearful, was enough.

And I hated myself as I gripped her by the hair again and dragged her up the stairs, every bit the monster this world had made me.