34. Rhaim

34

RHAIM

I had absolutely gone into a bathroom to jack off after my last meeting of the day—and this one was probably only fifty-one percent about Lia's ass being on my desk earlier, and forty-nine percent sheer stress relief.

I couldn't believe that Nero was going to die. I wanted to rail against that fact, but he had enough money to explore all his options—I was sure he'd gotten the best doctors, and had gone through second, third, and fourth opinions.

I also couldn't believe that I was expected to keep quiet about that fact, and to continue babysitting his bright and beautiful baby girl, until he could hand her off like a baton at a relay race.

It was ridiculous that I thought I knew her better than he did after two short weeks, but it had to be fucking true.

In fact, I suspect I knew her better than she did herself—and I had to get her to a place where she could stand on her own two feet as quickly as possible.

Would it be any fair that I was using pictures of my own dick against her, to prop her up, like a kickstand?

Probably not.

And I knew that even after all my harried bolstering when the truth came out, in regards to how much of Nero's plans I knew in advance, she was going to fucking hate me.

But there was a slim chance I could fix her, by then, for our mutually fucked-up values of becoming functional.

There was nothing wrong with her— compared to me —and the sooner I got her to see that, the more beneficial it would be for her long-term sanity.

Which was why I was breaking into her apartment at two in the morning.

The place smelled like her. A little bit like roses, a little bit like honey—I didn't think she wore perfume; it was probably just something nice she used to wash her hair.

I liked it.

I carefully pulled her apartment door closed behind me, so she wouldn't hear it latch.

She'd left all her lights on—expecting me, no doubt.

I was in black jeans and a black T-shirt, and I'd given the sleepy doorman a fistful of twenties—I'd have the man fired once I finished here, because I couldn't have someone who was bribable taking care of my little girl's building, but his avarice had been useful in the moment.

The place was spacious and open floor planned like my own, but everything was softer. No pictures on the walls, but she'd just moved back. There was a bookshelf full of books she liked to read in the living room—and I figured I already knew some of these books by now, from snooping on her Instagram account. I pulled one of the books off her shelf and found it tabbed, like she'd been studying what was inside—and when I held it spine down in my hand, it fell open to a naughty bit, which made me silently chuckle.

It almost made me feel bad about just what it was I was here to do—but not quite.

I set the book back and wove backward to her bedroom, where no fewer than four nightlights were on.

So paranoid about me visiting her—yet she'd still managed to fall asleep.

And there, on her nightstand, was a rather large penis-shaped vibrator. That did make me laugh, at the same time as I grabbed the sheet she'd tossed over herself and yanked it off the bed.

"Wake up, Lia," I growled, throwing the sheet to the side before I pounced on her.

She woke up at once and panicked, thrashing without thought, as I clapped a hand against her mouth to muffle a scream. Her eyes were wide with fear, but it was too late for her to do anything—I'd trapped her hands beneath my knees on either side of her hips.

She was wearing a silk two-piece pajama set, and over her heart there was a cursive, monogrammed L in a darker shade.

"One nightlight's décor. Four is a choice," I told her, as I grinned mercilessly down. "Scared of me? Because you should be." I slid the hand above her mouth down to circle around her throat.

"How did you get in?" she whispered.

"There's no place on earth you can hide from me. Get used to it." I stroked my thumb up and down her racing pulse. "Did you think I would just let you disobey me? Was that it? Did you just need to try me?"

I felt her swallow and try to shake her head. "No," she hissed.

"So why didn't you do what you were told?" I asked, leaning so close to her our foreheads almost touched. "Bad things happen to little girls who don't listen, Lia."

Her eyes were watering with unshed tears already. I hadn't expected her to be that fragile, I was going to need to adjust my plan of attack. "Please don't make me," she whispered.

"Please don't make me," I mocked her. "Beg me," I said, while reaching my free hand for her cuff.

"Please don't sir—Mr. Selvaggio—please-please-please, Rhaim, sir, please—" she started chanting, like a prayer.

Whatever showing her wrists to me meant to her—that hook was planted deep.

Fine, then.

I would see the rest of her.

I changed course and leaned over to snatch the vibrator off her nightstand, holding it at her chin like a knife, with a wolfish smile showing all my teeth. "You want to bargain?" I asked her, and she nodded frantically. "Good. Then fuck yourself with this."

She gasped, as I rocked back and off of her, dropping the sex toy on her chest.

"Did it sound like I was joking?" I demanded, grabbing hold of her pant cuffs, and yanking. She slid halfway down the bed with a startled yelp as I yanked again, pulling her pajama bottoms off entirely. She scrambled up the bed, breathing hard, her eyes wide with fear, her legs curling up protectively.

It was too late. I could already see everything—the tight nest of pink folds I wanted to lick, hidden between her legs.

I pulled my attention away from her pussy and mounted the bed again, taking one of her ankles to draw down, then the other, and while she didn't flow with me, she didn't fight me either. Then I saw her eyes start to glaze as panic took over.

"You don't get to go away, little girl. You have to stay here with me the whole time," I said, crawling up to grab her jaw and squeeze it, making her focus on me. "Pick your toy up."

She did so with shaking hands. She was panting now in terror, and she dropped the thing twice. I knew she wanted to ask me not to do it—but she also knew I had no more forgiveness in me for the night.

"You have a safe word," I reminded her, in a growl in case all of her sense had fled—but it hadn't. I felt her head twitch, denying the need to use it, as she turned the vibrator on.

"If I do this, you don't look?" she whispered.

I let one of my eyebrows arch up. "Only if you do it well."

She took a deep and steadying inhale at that. I moved to crouch over her again, so that to reach herself she had to thread the thing through my knees, and I heard her turn it on. The slight whirring of its mechanized parts quieted as she pushed it in, and her previously frantic breathing deepened.

"Are you embarrassed?" I asked. The expression on her face said she was, but she denied it.

"No, sir."

"Good girl." I waited a good long while, with only the sound of our breath and the slowly slickening toy between us. "Do you make yourself come a lot?"

The color rose on her cheeks, making her the same shade of pink as the top she still wore. "Every night," she whispered.

"Who do you think about when you do?"

She swallowed. "You. Always you."

I heard the ring of truth in her voice, and it was what I wanted, right? To be her everything, so that I could protect her from herself. But I wasn't prepared for the intensity I felt as her words hit me. It felt like old scabs of mine were being ripped up, only instead of the agony I expected, it was like cool and soothing bandages were being placed upon them. "Fuck yourself harder, Lia," I commanded.

Her wrists brushed against the insides of my thighs as she did so and I let out a groan, which made her slow down. I leaned closer to her and growled again.

"If you make me use that on you, I swear to god I will shove it so far inside you it won't come out."

She made the world's most beautiful please-don't-hurt-me face, and then redoubled her efforts with her eyes closed until her jaw fell. The scent of her sex was heady, and the vision of her working herself so hard for me was just as potent.

Her amber eyes fluttered open. "I don't want to come without you again," she whispered.

"I'm right here."

She shook her head and pulled one of her hands back, tracing it up the inside of my thigh, to stroke her fingers against my hard on, hesitantly at first, but then rubbing me, making me give her a rumbling sound.

"I know you want to. You can. I swear it. I'll never tell."

I took the wrist of that hand and pinned it over her head, leaning forward, touching my forehead to hers. "Do you think me being scared of your father is the only reason I'm not fucking you, Lia?"

Her eyes went wide and she nodded.

"No," I refuted her. "It's because you don't deserve it yet. Because you're not so good at following instructions, little girl. And only the most perfect, most compliant little girls get fucked."

She frowned at that, and I didn't know if it was because she was upset I wouldn't fuck her, or the implication that she wasn't good enough.

Either way, the answer to what ailed her currently lay between her legs.

"Listen to that," I whispered. The sounds of her using her toy were inescapable now, the wet noises and the intermittent buzzing. "Poor little moth, so ready, just wishing it was me."

She pouted and writhed, a shiver running through her, her hips rocking against the insides of my thighs. "So close," I purred. "So hungry."

"Rhaim," she panted, and I decided not to call her out for using my name, because I liked the sound of it on her lips when she was almost there. "Rhaim—I'm— fuck —" she exclaimed, and fell apart beneath me, crying out, and shuddering.

It was taking superhuman effort not to fuck her, because I knew if I unzipped my jeans and pulled her toy out, I could slide right in, all the way up to my hilt, pressed on all sides by her perfect pussy.

She shook a few more times and made mewling sounds, before fluttering her eyes open.

"Little girls don't cuss," I teased, and she made an exasperated sound as I reached between us to pull her toy out. The entire thing was glistening.

"How else am I supposed to say what it's like, then?" she whispered, as I tossed her toy aside.

"I don't know. You're the reader," I said, casting a look around her room full of books. I leaned forward to put a hand by her head, and used the other to stroke an errant lock of her hair away. "You okay?" I asked her and she slowly nodded, smiling sweetly.

"Good," I said, leaning even further to whisper in her ear. "Because this is your actual punishment, Lia—the fact that I fuckin' lied."