“M-make it stop,” she mewls as her cheek lies on the table, facing me. “I did what you asked.”

“So, it was all an act.” I don’t know why the fuck that pisses me off, but it does.

“I... what do you want from me, Jasper?” She reaches for her nightgown. “I did what you asked.”

“Remove that hand. Right. Now.”

“But—”

“Put them back where they were.”

Like a kid caught stealing from the jar, she plants them back on the table and stares at me with tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Jasper. I need release.”

I raise an eyebrow as I stalk toward her. “Again?”

She nods slowly.

“With my cock or with the vibrator?”

“You,” she breathes.

As I approach her, I notice the stain at the front of her nightgown. My cock turns fucking hard at the fact that she’s been craving me while her knight in shining armor was right beside her.

With a flick of my thumb, I stop the vibrator and she sags, breathing harshly.

“Straighten up,” I order.

She does, her back snapping in a rigid line.

For this, I need her in her right state of mind.

I stroke stray strands of hair behind her ear and she leans into my hand, briefly closing her eyes. “You said I’m your man.”

She stops moving against my hand but doesn’t pull away or open her eyes.

My fingers drop down to her jaw, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger. “Was that an act?”

She slowly opens her eyes, they’re light, shining, and I see the answer in them before she says, “No.”

“You’re mine, Pet.”

“I am.” She doesn’t hesitate this time, the words come easy as if they were always meant to.

“You were a good girl tonight.”

A soft moan rips from her lips at the words. My little Petal likes being called a good girl and likes being at my mercy.

“Good girls get rewards.”

“They do?”

“They do.”

She squeals as I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder, carrying her to the bedroom.

Tonight, I’ll fuck her slowly, worshipping every inch of her body.

It’s a first for me, but my little Petal has been my first in a lot of things.

 

 

26

 

 

Georgina

 

 

I've been stuck in my apartment for two days now.

Two days of Jas relentlessly fucking my body until I promised him everything in the world for the taste of pleasure, a lick of what he kept away from me for hours that felt like years.

He started by fucking my body, but now, he's progressed to fucking with my head.

By the third day, I'm a fucking mess. The night before, Jasper showered me himself, spraying my body with bursts of hot and cold water until I was a confused, dripping mess. He put me in bed himself. I don't even have makeup on, and my hair is a wavy tangle, but he doesn't seem to care. He stares at me like he's about to fucking devour me, and as for me... I'm living for every second of it, not that I'd ever admit it to my captor.

"Jas.” My mouth so dry it feels like it's cracking with every word. "You're fucking me up."

"Just the way you like it," he replies. "Now go to sleep, Petal. Dream of pretty, wonderful things that you can't have anymore."

My eyes close and I let the darkness pull me under.

Suddenly, I'm in a world I've tried to shut down for years. A world of darkness, shadows and secrets being whispered on every corner – a world I can't pretend to understand any longer. My mama's there, still alive, still breathing, holding me close to her heart and telling me everything's going to be alright over and over again.

"You're okay," she whispers in my ear. "You're okay, my darling girl, I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to make sure nobody ever hurts you again."

I believe her. I'm a little girl again, except I'm not a little girl, I'm a little boy, and I like picking daisies and the older boy who takes care of me.

I startle, my eyes opening again as I whimper and my hands seek out Jasper for comfort. He's next to me, his body stiff as I latch onto him, holding on for dear life.

"You're scaring me, Jas," I whisper. "You're doing something to my head, you're fucking with it, I can't even see straight anymore."

"Let it take you under, Petal.” His dark voice soothes. “It’s the only way you’ll get rid of those anxiety attacks.”

I allow the pull of the memories to start taking me away from him again. I don't want to remember, but I need to. To save myself, to save Jas.

Remember.

Remember.

Remember.

I don't know how he's doing this, but events I've tried to sweep under the rug for decades are coming back in full technicolor glory. My eyes water as I remember a beautiful woman that looked just like me. Dark hair, frail, thin body, gray eyes. My mama.

She took care of me. She loved me. She was the only person I had.

Until she was ripped away from me.

I'm traveling back now, back years in time until I'm small and fragile and young, sitting on greener grass than I've ever seen. I'm in a garden, a garden of daisies. The little white flowers litter the ground, sprouting from the most unlikely of places and making me smile, putting dimples in my chubby cheeks.

I shake my head, groaning.

I don't want these memories.

I don't want to remember.

But why?

The woman is singing in a beautiful voice, Italian words that I don't understand blending together in a soothing lullaby. She's trying to comfort me, but as she sings, her voice begins to shake and tremble, and the melody loses its meaning.

"We have to go now, little one," she tells me, grabbing me and gathering me in her arms. The flower crown I'd been making out of the daisies falls to the ground.

"But I'm not finished," I complain. She pays me no mind. She runs along the grass. Her feet are bare and streaked with green, and so are mine. We're in our own world. A place where we're safe, and happy, and good, until we aren't. Until someone barges into our fantasy with a bang. Bang bang bang.

"Mama!" I cry out, little arms extending for my mother. "Mama, don't go!"

But she's being pulled away. She reaches out for me, and then there's a loud noise, bang bang bang, again and again, over and over again. Rosettes of deep scarlet bloom on my mother's chest and she stumbles back, having never quite reached me, her last chance of comforting me being cruelly ripped away. She utters my name, but no sound comes from her lips. They open to shape the letters of my name and then darker red, almost black liquid spills from her lips.

I don't know what's happening, but I know something's wrong, and I start to wail. Mama falls to the floor and I crawl closer to her, watching her gurgle blood, trying to speak and tell me something that could save my life. But there's nothing. No words come out. She reaches out for me, but her hand falls midway, her arm brokenly lying on the grass and her eyes lifeless, staring into nothing.

"What's wrong, Mama?" I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's going on, why won't you talk to me?"