Lily
My eyelids slowly flutter open, and I realize immediately I’m not in my room when I focus on the blue-green walls surrounding me. I’m in Cason’s room.
The next moment, the warmth from his body registers in my brain, and I look to my right to see his chest slowly rising and falling while he sleeps. A tattoo of what looks like a skull moves with each breath, up and down as I watch it.
My gaze roams over his skin covered in tattoos, some shaded in grey and others with colors. A woman’s face on his chest above the skull. What may be a dragon with green eyes on his right shoulder. Dozens of others I can’t make out in the dim light of his room.
A thin stream of sunlight reflects off his nipple piercing when his chest fills with air, and then the glint of light disappears when he exhales. I stare at the silver barbell through his skin and wish I could touch it. In the whole time we were together last night, I didn’t even see it.
The hours in this room are a blur, even now as I try to remember all we did. His arm around me says I fell asleep in his arms, but I don’t remember that. My memories are filled with little else other than sex.
Violent, passionate, unforgiving sex that began with me on my knees on the floor and ended with me on my hands and knees on the bed. An ache in my thighs and my shoulders reminds me of all the other positions too.
I would have said yes to anything he demanded to make sure he doesn’t follow through on orders from his boss to kill me at the end of this week. Not that I didn’t enjoy fucking him. He’s beautiful and built and has a cock that makes me moan and beg for more. Even more, he’s not like those boys he kept referring to. They treat me like I’m a dainty little flower who might break if they thrust too hard.
Little do they know that I like it hard. A little pain adds to my pleasure. So while they worry they might hurt me, I spend my time wishing they’d do just that.
Cason either doesn’t worry about inflicting pain on me, or as I suspect, enjoys doing that with everything in his life. The more he tugged my hair, I wetter I became. The harder he fucked me, the more I squealed for more.
We were a match made in heaven. Well, maybe a few feet below that. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s my captor and possibly will be my killer in a few days, we’d be perfect together.
As it was, we were perfect for a few hours.
I can’t forget who he is, though. No matter how good he felt inside me. No matter how much he knew just what I needed to get off. No matter how sweet he looks sleeping there beside me.
He’s a killer, and he’ll kill me if I don’t give him a reason not to.
Last night was my first attempt to convince him not to be that person with me. But it doesn’t end with that.
A fleeting thought about running away as he sleeps rushes through my mind, but between the guards and that electrified fence, I’d never make it away alive. Better to take my chances on changing Cason’s mind.
He moves against my arm and then turns away from me, taking my arm with him as he rolls over. Still asleep, he shifts around before getting settled and holding my hand against his chest. Is he worried I’ll try to escape, or does he simply like the feel of me against him?
I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. All that matters is by the end of this week he likes the feel of me alive more than he wants to obey an order. I don’t pretend to think this will be easy. He’s worked for that boss for a long time and only known me for a day.
That doesn’t matter either. Men are men, and even the hardest of them want to feel like they aren’t despicable pieces of shit with one person in the world. I need to do that with Cason.
I repeat the same mantra over and over when I begin to doubt myself. I have a body, and I can use it. I don’t have a weapon or strength, but I have my body.
When all you have is your body, then that’s what you have to use. Purity and goodness exist only in safety. I don’t have that, so they’ll have to be patient. For now, whatever he demands of me he’ll get, and in return, I hope on day eight I can say it was worth it.
I lay my head on the pillow and close my eyes, ever aware of how tightly he holds my hand to his body. As I drift back to sleep, I say my mantra once more, not even finishing the ending words.
“Wakey wakey. Time to get up.”
Cason’s deep voice sounds like it’s a million miles away, and for a few seconds, I think I’m dreaming. Then I feel his hand on my shoulder pushing hard against me, and I know none of this is a dream.
Opening my eyes, I see him standing next to the bed looking down at me. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans and looks oddly refreshed after the night we spent together.
“What time is it?” I ask as I push my hair back off my face.
“Time to get up. You don’t listen well, do you?” he says in a ragged voice that doesn’t match his appearance at all.
“Not when I just wake up, no,” I mumble and push myself up.
He doesn’t continue our sad attempt at a conversation, so I do what I always do. I talk more. Fill the dead space. Maybe he’ll jump in with something to say.
“Well, if you won’t tell me what time it is, can I at least know what I’m supposed to wear? You ripped that T-shirt and my clothes are dirty. I don’t have any others either.”
Cason’s eyes narrow to slits, and I can’t decide if he’s angry or confused by what I’ve said. Slowly, he shakes his head and sighs. “Why do you ask me questions I have no fucking answers for?”
Without missing a beat, I respond, “Because I don’t have anyone else to ask. You are the person holding me hostage. That sort of forces me to deal with you.”
I want to mention that hours of dealing with him has left me feeling like I need a massage or at least a hot bath, but there’s no hint of him being interested in even talking to me, much less about the sex we had last night. The only thing coming off him right now is irritation at my very simple question.
He thinks about what I have to say, and then in a flash, his face is in front of mine, his eyes full of that same rage that so often marks them. “Maybe I should just tie you up in here so the issue of clothes isn’t something I have to fucking think about.”
The words come out in a hiss, like every ounce of anger inside him rides out on the back of each syllable. Each one terrifies me, but all of them together make me want to cry. After all we did just hours earlier and now he’s threatening to tie me up again?
“No, Cason. Please. Don’t do that. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t tie me up again. Please.”
My words are nothing short of pure begging, and I don’t care. I mean every one of them. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just don’t want to be tied up again.
He looks into my eyes, and staring into his, I see a hint of humanity in them. He doesn’t want to tie me up again. I have to believe he doesn’t.
“Then don’t ask me about what clothes you should wear. Put the ones on from yesterday and don’t talk about them again.”
Relief rushes through me, and I eagerly nod, happy to wear yesterday’s outfit if it keeps me free. “Okay, I’ll do that. Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you breakfast?”
Cason leans back and shakes his head. “You sound like my boss with the playing house shit. Don’t get confused about what this is, Lily. In six days, if your father is too stupid to pay up, you get to pay the price.”
God, why does every word out of his mouth right now have to be so cruel? Like I could ever forget that I may only have six more days to live.
“I just thought I’d be nice and ask since I need to make myself something to eat. If you don’t want anything, okay. I won’t make any for you.”
He doesn’t say anything in response, so I move across the bed and stand up to go into the bathroom. My legs ache and my shoulders feel the sting from him holding my hands behind my back while he fucked me, and all I want to do is sit in a hot bath until my body doesn’t hurt anymore.
I barely get two steps toward the bathroom before he grabs my arm to stop me. His fingers press into my skin, instantly hurting me.
Turning back to look at him, I see him glaring at me. “I just have to go to the bathroom. What did I do wrong now?” I ask, unsure if in my frustration I’ve pushed too far.
“Don’t be too long in there, Lily. And don’t even think about climbing out the window and escaping. I’d hate to see that pretty little head of yours get hurt.”
His warning comes through loud and clear, but something in the way he says those words make me wonder if he actually would hate to see any part of me get hurt. Not that he isn’t in total control of that. He could let me go anytime he wants, and then my pretty little everything would be just fine.
I know there’s no point in saying any of that to him, so I just paste a smile on my face and nod. When he lets me go, I head toward the bathroom, but when I take a quick look back, I see him watching me as I walk away.
Closing the door, I have to admit that maybe even though he’s just as callous and unkind as before we slept together, perhaps it did have an effect on him after all. Step one in my plan to stay alive might have worked, even if only a little bit.
Now onto step two.
I close my eyes and let the hot water cover my body as it fills up the bathtub. The only thing missing are the bubbles, but even those wouldn’t help my muscles this morning. I point my feet out in front of me and touch the tips of my big toes against the other end of the tub, stretching every inch of my legs from my hips to my ankles. Pain gives way to relief, and for the first time this morning, I feel like a normal human being.
Congratulating myself on what I’ve accomplished with Cason so far, I plot out what I’ll do next. He doesn’t have to want me to cook for him to be pleased by it. Twice already, I’ve seen him genuinely happy because of the food I’ve made, so I need to continue to offer that to him.
How does that old saying go? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? I’m not interested in Cason’s heart. Just his conscience. But whatever works.
After that, whatever he wants is what he’ll get. Sex, however he likes it, followed by food.
Feed him and fuck him so he’ll free me. Maybe that will be my new mantra, I think to myself.
A hard knock on the bathroom door tears me from my thoughts, and I open my eyes to see Cason standing over me staring at me for the second time this morning. His gaze zeroes in on my breasts, so I arch my back ever so slightly so my nipples peek out of the bathwater.
“I’m almost done. I promise. I just needed to have a hot bath after last night.”
“Do you always just lay there when men barge in on you in the bathtub?” he asks like he’s disappointed by my show.
I quickly sit up and push my wet hair off my face. “I figured after what we did last night that I didn’t have to pretend to be chaste and cover up like some virgin.”
“Time to get moving. I’m hungry, so get out of there and get dressed,” he says just as irritated as before, but this time I know better.
He’s getting used to the idea of me feeding him. Good. The more he thinks of me as someone who can give him something he wants and needs, the better my chances of staying alive are.
“Okay. I’ll be out in a minute. My clothes are back in my room, so I’ll have to run down the hall to get dressed. That Nate guy isn’t here, is he?”
Cason’s expression turns instantly darker, and he spins on his heels out into the bedroom. “Move it or I’ll tie you up again, Lily. Understand me?” he barks just before he slams the door and walks out.
I don’t answer, but I do understand. I understand far more than he realizes, in fact. I understand that he’s getting used to me cooking for him, and I understand he’s got some issue with that Nate guy around me.
Whatever his issue is with him, if the opportunity presents itself, I need to use it to my advantage. That I understand all too well, Cason.
As I dry myself off and knot the towel above my chest, I take a deep breath and look in the mirror. “You aren’t some little girl who can’t handle herself. Never forget that.”
When I walk into the bedroom, I see my black yoga pants and my green T-shirt from yesterday on the bed. They aren’t laid out and they were clearly tossed onto the sheets with little care, but they’re here and not in my room, as I mentioned to Cason.
I dress alone by the side of the bed where we slept together, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of captor and killer gives a damn about who sees their hostage in a towel. Even more, what killer bothers to do anything thoughtful at all for their hostage?
Maybe last night had more effect on him than I thought.
Or maybe he’s not as cruel as he wants me to think.
As I walk downstairs, I tell myself I can’t get lured into believing he’s some guy who’s deep down not the person he is on the outside. He is. I remember back in school when the teacher talked about that famous person who said something like don’t disbelieve when people show you who they really are. They aren’t lying to you. You’re lying to yourself.
I can’t afford to lie to myself here in this beautiful place that’s one big lie. A beautiful cage is still a cage. A prison with lovely furniture and decorations is still a prison.
And Cason is still a killer, no matter how he makes me feel when we’re naked in each other’s arms or how many little gestures he does that seem like nice things. A killer is still a killer, no matter how beautiful his face may be.
No matter how much I may wish he wasn’t.
