Collateral Damage (6 page)

"
Please
." I pressed my eyes shut as he removed the sweatshirt and then my jeans.

"Vince . . . ."

The hand in my hair loosened. I heard Cyrus step away. The bed creaked.

Vince cupped my jaw and bent down to meet my eyes. "You will learn to do as I say."

"Yes." I swallowed, unsure what the darkness in his eyes, in his tone, meant. "I will. Just don't—"

"It's too late." He kissed me, a quick yet gentle brush of his lips over mine. "Don't make this worse."

Worse? How can it get any worse?
Tears clung to my lashes as I stared at his boots.

His kiss, his kindness—without them I could shut down and simply endure. But with . .

. .

"Lie on the bed, and stretch your arms over your head." He reached around me to undo my bra. "Cyrus will hold you."

And make this easy for you? I don't think so.
I twisted away from him and covered my breasts with my arms. "No."

"Nicole . . . ." Vince sighed and backed me into the bed. The cold, metal bed frame bumped my calves. "Don't be difficult."

"Or what?" I let out a high-pitched laugh, locked my legs, and tried to hold on to my bra as he pried my arms apart. "You'll rape me?"

"I won't rape you." He forced me onto the bed, catching my fist when I took a swing at him. "But if you keep fighting, you're going to get hurt."

I did keep fighting, but, by the way he pinned my body and stretched my arms over my head, he didn't notice. Cyrus' legs extended to either side of me, and I felt him clamp onto my wrists.

"Good girl." Cyrus lightly squeezed, but the words and the gesture didn't comfort me. They weren't quite mocking—just not genuine.

My instincts screamed in response to his touch, the way they would to the approach of a feral dog.
Get away!

"Eyes on me." Vince peeled off my panties, tossed them aside, and then pulled out a black strip of fabric. He caught my eye, and his lips curved slightly in approval.

"Now, bend your knees."

Without waiting for me to obey, he leaned on my leg until it folded and then wrapped the fabric—Velcro—around my thigh, then my calf. He did the same to my other leg. Kneeling between my thighs, he pushed my legs apart.

Suddenly I knew exactly what he was going to do. I tugged at my wrists. Tried to straighten my legs. No use. I gasped and shook my head. "Vince—"

"Look. At. Me." He ran his hands up and down my inner thighs. The flesh around his eyes crinkled. "You will enjoy this. A strange kind of punishment, I know.

But effective."

His hands framed my pussy and his thumbs opened my outer labia, exposing delicate, wet flesh. That I was wet was punishment enough. Because he could see it and so could Cyrus.

"Aren't you a little slut?" Cyrus laughed and repositioned himself so one hand was free to play with my hard nipples, yet more evidence that I
was
a slut. An easy, pathetic slut. Perfect for their little games. "I'm going to enjoy you."

Vince slapped my thigh, and my hips jutted up. My nipples were numb to Cyrus'

manipulations, as though the nerves there had shriveled up and died, but I was all too aware of Vince.

"You're not looking at me." He lowered his mouth. Eyes on me, he gave my cunt a long, slow, lick. "Watch me. Feel. Only. Me."

And I did. My mind took us away from there, put us in my apartment, where I brought men for no-strings-attached sex because it was my territory. Because nothing happened there I didn't want unless a guy wanted a face full of the mace I kept in the drawer with the condoms. I'd stripped quickly because I wanted this hot guy to fuck me. He was kinkier than most, tying my hands to the wooden spirals of my oak bed frame, but the knots were loose enough for me to free myself if I had to.

Wham bam, thank you, sir.
A monthly indulgence. No big deal.

I didn't usually go for foreplay, but Vince wasn't giving me a choice. His breath warmed me, spreading my own heat as he delicately traced each and every fold, drawing a half-moon around my clit until it tightened up into a throbbing, needy, little nub of pleasure. My hips twisted in an attempt to guide his tongue over the one place it needed to be.

He pressed them down with his hands, his fingers digging into the crevice along my pelvic bone. When I whimpered, he pushed his tongue inside me, and waves of heat rippled around it, building, building, dragging me under. Every time he withdrew, I gasped in air; every time he thrust in, I nearly drowned in sensation.

"Come for me, Nicole." He replaced his tongue with his fingers and spoke with his lips over my clit. "Now."

He sucked on my clit, and the heat crashed and burned, everywhere at once. I cried out, and my hips bucked against his mouth. He took me from my room to fucking wonderland, a beautiful place where nothing really mattered. Nothing was wrong.

Nothing could be.

I chose this.
And, if I repeated it often enough, it would be true.

When he lay over me, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and urge him on, in, whatever. The stretching stung, but his hands lifting me up to him braced me, helped me accept the sensation as just another way to take him deeper. He moved slowly, giving me time to adjust, to fit around him as I was meant to.

"Deep breath." He said as he settled his weight on top of me. When I sucked in a lungful of air he smiled. "There we go. That's my girl."

My girl.
I gave him a tremulous smile and decided I wouldn't kick him out first thing in the morning. I moaned and rose up as he slid almost all the way out, closing my thighs against his hips to keep him from going too far. He circled his hips and shook his head, eyes twinkling. I released him, and his expression softened as he eased his way past clenching muscle, his shallow thrusts teasing until I gave in and relaxed. He rewarded me with longer strokes, sliding in and out, faster and faster, massaging the muscles of my thighs as I quivered and fought not to tense up as I plunged into pure, liquid pleasure. He pistoned in and out, making it last.

"Jesus." He groaned and lifted my hips right off the bed, slamming in one last time before his strength seemed to leave him. "Good. Very good."

No. Perfect.
The urge to hold him had me tugging at my arms. I couldn't move them. Of course, he hadn't untied me. And then I remembered.
Those aren't ropes.

"Well done, Vincent. I'm sure once she realizes she's not behaving as a captive should, the shame will tear her apart more than any pain I could have dealt out." Cyrus'

grip on my hands loosened, and then left completely. "Now hold her. After watching that, I need some release myself."

Shit!
I bit my lip, still too far gone to even consider what I'd just done. All that I could think was I didn't want Cyrus anywhere near me. Even though he
was
near me.

And wasn't going anywhere.

"She's had enough." Vince's chest blocked me from the room as he covered me with his body and cradled me against him all at once. "We don't want to push her too far."

"If me fucking her pushes her too far, we don't really need her, do we?" Cyrus said. "Don't make me ask again. I'm feeling generous. I'll be quick. If you annoy me, I'll bring Darryl and a few of the others in, too. You know they'd usually all have their turn after an attempted escape."

"She didn't want attention. She wanted to see Alrik."

"I really don't give a shit. Move."

The shield of flesh and bone and man disappeared. Moved behind me, useless. In a half-seated position, I watched Cyrus fit himself between my thighs and shove himself inside me. And he fucked me. Brutally, roughly, while Vince held me for him.

Every pleasure I'd felt was ground up until I was crammed full of the ashes of it. Dirty, disgusting cruds of heat and lust and surrender.

With one last grunt, Cyrus came. Then he patted my cheek and sneered at me.

"I'll leave Vincent to clean you up and get you some new clothes, my nasty little cunt.

You're practically oozing cum." He slipped out and took a kerchief from his pocket to clean himself. "But you're a good fuck, I'll give you that."

He walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. Gone. But not really.

His presence lingered, smeared all over and inside me, giving me the familiar urge to scrub away contaminated flesh. Until I bled and could pretend the scum could be washed off. Could pretend I wasn't ruined.

"Nicole." Vince removed the Velcro straps and then gathered me in his arms, locking them around me when I cringed and tried to throw myself off the bed. "Stop it.

Let's get you cleaned up."

"Can't get clean." I went slack and covered my face with my hands. "Which makes me a prize, doesn't it. After the first time, what does it matter?"

"We'll discuss that later. Hold on to me." He snatched a blanket off the bed, tucking it around me as he picked me up. Then he carried me from the room. Down the hall, up the stairs, bearing my weight as easily as an armful of text books. He shifted me to press my head against his chest as the screams in the hall got louder.

As though they could bother me now.

I wanted this to end. All of it. Maybe if I just let go, I would fade away. I already didn't feel quite there. This ruined body belonged to someone else. Someone else whom Vince gently set down so he could open a door. Someone else who followed him inside without a word.

Soft lighting gave the bathroom a peaceful atmosphere. I perched on the edge of the bath and watched Vince turn the faucets, testing the water, adjusting until he was satisfied with the temperature. Then he went to the cupboard under the counter and picked out a few bottles. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and bubble bath.

"I thought you'd enjoy a good, long soak," Vince said.

"Sure."

He frowned and helped me into the bath. "I'll get you some fresh clothes."

"Sounds good."

My body lowered until it was completely submerged. All sense of sight and sound deadened by a womb of hot, bubbly water. Lungs emptied. Tightened with the need for air. But air meant rising, and this body didn't have the strength.

Vince hauled me up with a slosh and took hold of my chin. "I'd expected more from you."

"More than what?" I asked in a lifeless tone. "I'm doing exactly what you asked."

"I asked you not to play games."

"I'm not."

"So I'm supposed to believe you actually want to die? That you've just given up?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you're still worth something."

Damn you.
Why did he have to remind me? But, at the same time, I was grateful he had. Alrik needed me. Giving up would be selfish. And I wasn't about to follow in my father's footsteps.

"There we go." Vince skimmed his knuckles down my cheek, giving me another one of those smiles that told me I'd done something good. "I truly admire how well you recover."

"Why does it matter?" I caught myself leaning in to his touch and considered shifting away. Instead, I sighed and rubbed my face against his hand. It felt nice. I had a feeling I wouldn't get a lot of
nice.
Why deprive myself? "If I didn't recover I'd be easier to handle, no?"

"No, you'd be useless. We won't keep a broken thing as a teacher for Alrik." He bent down and kissed me tenderly, his eyes searching mine as though to make sure I got it. He seemed satisfied that I did when he pulled away. "Think about that while I'm gone. Think of what we need to do to make sure you don't break."

Alone, I soaked and slowly took in my surroundings. The bathroom was the kind you'd expect in a mansion, bigger than my cell. The whole thing was very Feng Shui, all natural colors, the walls and fixtures offsetting the granite tiles on the floor and around the round tub. Orchids in earthenware planters sat on the granite counter by a sink that looked like a big, white bowl. The huge hot tub was set right in the middle like some kind of monument.

A perfect place for some reflection.

A deep inhale of the steam rising from the bath relaxed me.
Vanilla.
And not the fake kind. The purest essence, rich enough to saturate my skin and linger for days.

I let my mind drift aimlessly over what Vince had said. How could I make sure I didn't break? Well, pretending with him had helped until Cyrus brought me back to reality. But why let what he'd done matter more than what Vince had done? Vince had been careful, gentle. I couldn't even call it rape. I could have forced him to rape me, but I hadn't. Which made sense in a warped kind of way. He was the only one who'd given me the choice.

What had been intended as a punishment became something else. I wasn't ashamed of myself. I'd found a way to escape without leaving Alrik behind. As long as Vince kept me. At least until the boy and I could escape together.

By the time Vince returned with clothes, I'd washed, rinsed under the retractable shower head, and wrapped myself in a big, fluffy, beige towel. He stood in the doorway for a while, watching me comb my hair. He almost seemed afraid to disturb me.

He licked his bottom lip when I looked up at him and held out the clothes.

"Should I leave these—?"

So big and strong, so cold at times, his uncertainty was endearing. Almost like he didn't want to intrude on my privacy. I nodded towards the sink, doing my best to hide how much his brief displays of humanity pleased me. "Leave them there, I'll be right out."

He reached out without stepping over the threshold and dropped the folded sweatsuit on the edge of the counter. Then he paused, stared at me, and laughed. "For a second there, I forgot who you were."

And you couldn't continue forgetting?
I bit my lip as he approached and took the comb. "Who did you think I was?"

"My teacher, the one I had when I was Alrik's age." Combing through my hair with both the comb and his fingers, he said softly, "She had red hair. She was just as beautiful and tiny as you."

I turned and put my hands over his. A lump formed in my throat, and I had to swallow a few times to get words around it. "How long have you been with Cyrus?"