Fable of Happiness Book One Read online

  Almost as if he knew I’d reached my limit, he stalked in bare feet to the rack and plucked off a fluffy cream towel. Silently, he came closer to the shower and spread it wide, ready to wrap around me.

  A white flag perhaps?

  A sign of truce between us?

  Never looking away from him, I turned off the shower and gingerly stepped across the wet tiles. I paused before him. More naked than I’d ever been before someone. His eyes once again fell to my breasts and lingered on my pebbled nipples.

  I was confident in my body. I’d trained it to keep me safe while climbing and to stay healthy in all my risky endeavors. I was toned. I was strong. Past lovers had appreciated my hard work and commented on muscles they didn’t even have.

  But no man had ever watched me as he did.

  No man had ever given me his utmost attention.

  No man stopped breathing or began to tremble the longer he studied me.

  The way he watched me was borderline worship. He made me feel both like I was his for the rest of my life and that I was the ruler for the rest of his. He made no attempt to hide such fervency. No masks or quips to keep the upper hand. No games that so often existed in the bedroom between new partners.

  Silently, I turned and gave him my back.

  His sharp inhale sent my skin prickling, followed by the almost unfightable reaction to crumple at his feet as he draped the soft towel around my body and wrapped me tight.

  I froze as he rubbed my arms, drying me off. Such a simple kindness. An unthought moment of sweetness.

  But then his fingers dug into my biceps as if remembering our dynamic, and he stepped away from me. He backed up so quickly, I swayed as if he’d removed a wall from behind me.

  Grabbing the towel, I turned to track him.

  His jaw was clenched beneath his thick shadow of scruff, his long hair kissed his shoulders, and the tattered condition of his trousers hinted I wasn’t the only one in need of a shower.

  He needed a shave. A haircut. He needed someone to groom him and teach him and perhaps, someday, remind him that whatever life he’d been living out here wasn’t a life at all.

  It seemed whenever we were close, our eyes refused to unlock. I couldn’t look away from him—partly out of wariness in order to react quickly if he tried to hurt me, and partly because...despite everything—despite the two nights in a cellar drinking tap water and peeing in a bucket. Despite him shattering my cell phone and PLB. Despite the two strangulations and the forced blowjob, there was something inside him.

  Something I’d been seeking ever since I was stupid enough to type up a dating profile. Something that no longer existed in men bred in today’s world.

  That intoxicating blend of danger and doting. The ability to hurt but also to heal.

  He kept watching as I dried off. I ought to have been embarrassed to rub the towel over my breasts and between my legs. Ought to have turned away and hidden all the pieces of me that I could.

  But...if his lust could be harnessed—if I could do the unthinkable and make him free me, then I wasn’t embarrassed to use my body as a weapon.

  The cold water and bathroom break had rejuvenated me.

  I’m ready to fight again.

  The longer I wiped off every droplet, the harder he trembled. Pain etched his eyes as his cock tented his trousers until the zipper strained and the button popped free. He looked in agony, yet he didn’t touch himself.

  Licking my lips, I said in a voice that shook against my will. “I don’t have any other clothes. Do you...” I glanced past him to the bedroom. In my uninvited traipse of his home, I’d noticed wardrobes full of clothing. Some for men. Some for women. All rich and decadent and unused. “Would you allow me to borrow something while I clean mine?”

  He lowered his head, his eyebrows shadowing the darkness of his stare. “A favor for a favor. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” His tone bordered a growl, thick with lust and frustration. Looking down at his cock, he snapped, “Deal with that, and you can have whatever clothes you want.”

  Deal with that.

  What does that mean?

  He spoke of his body as if it was a traitor. As if the pleasure he was feeling and the anticipation of a release was torment instead of bliss.

  “How...?” I swallowed, activating the fresh bruises around my neck. “Do you want to, eh—” I thought I’d come to terms with this. I had come to terms with this. I’d been prepared to offer my body in exchange for hope. Yet for some reason, verbalizing it took a strength I almost didn’t have.

  Arching my chin and tapping into new courage, I asked clinically, “Do you wish to fuck me?”

  He jolted.

  His eyes snapped shut.

  A guttural groan escaped his parted lips.

  My belly coiled, and I was suddenly no longer cold from my shower. I was hot. I was steamy. But I didn’t want it. I couldn’t understand why my body reacted to his.

  “Your hand,” he grunted. “I’ll fuck your hand.” His eyes opened, blazing coal and smoke. “Drop your towel and come here.”

  Survival, Gem.

  The only thing that matters.

  Locking down my emotions for what was about to happen, I did as he requested.

  I dropped the towel. I strode toward him bare. I stopped before him, suffering a full-body shiver at the heady heat rolling off him.

  He didn’t touch me.

  He looked as if he’d locked himself in place with shackles of invisible iron. “Free me.”

  My heart somersaulted.

  My inner battle for survival tangled with the ugly submission of giving in. Offering myself up verbally had been hard enough...willingly initiating sexual contact threatened to shove me back into the empty void from before.

  “Do it,” he breathed, harsh and haggard. “Don’t and you’ll wish you obeyed.”

  I looked up, fighting the urge to hide my body. “Do you...do you intend to touch me in return?”

  I have to know.

  Mentally, I had to prepare.

  His jaw worked as his dark stare stroked my nakedness. “Make me come and you’re safe tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  His lips thinned. “Tomorrow? Nothing is guaranteed.” Impatience etched his mouth. “Enough talking. You owe me. Do it.” His hips rocked, almost against his will. “Get it over with.”

  Get it over with?

  Another hint that sex for him wasn’t normal. “If you don’t want—”

  “I want. I want the pain gone,” he muttered. “Now. Give me your goddamn hand.” Grabbing my wrist, he forced my trembling hand to press against his zipper.

  The second my fingers made contact with his stiff arousal, he let me go. “Don’t stop.”

  Just do it, Gem.

  Freedom comes with a price.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I ordered my hand to obey, shaking and wary, dragging the zipper down.

  He grunted as the fabric pressure on his cock vanished. The ruined slacks slipped down his legs to the floor. The muscles in his belly stood out in explicit detail, cords of strength and ridges of vitality.

  No underwear.

  I paused for a second, studying his erection just as he’d studied me. I’d tasted him, pleasured him. I knew his body before I knew his mind. The thicket of hair was as wild as the hair on his head. Untrimmed and unruly, hiding the balls drawn tight between his legs. And thanks to the lights gleaming above, I noticed something I hadn’t in my gloomy cell.

  Scars existed on this part of his body, too.

  Tiny snaking lines followed the thick arteries pumping blood into his cock. An awful tapestry of yet more pain he’d endured.

  Was it self-inflicted?

  Was it punishment?

  Who is this man?

  And why did he fill me with equal parts hate and the unfathomable need to nurture?

  “Touch it,” he snarled, frustration thick in his throat.

  I jumped from the spell I’d been put under, seemi
ng to slip whenever I was too close to him. I cursed it. It shouldn’t happen. This was my enemy. My prison guard—

  “Fuck, please—” He groaned as if his frustration had escalated to pitiful misery.

  Once again, he scrambled me up.

  Here was a man who didn’t hesitate to hurt me, who could kill me where I stood, yet...his beg was full of despair. It made me want to obey more than any threat he could utter.

  He wanted to come via my hand.

  He’d spared me the task of having him inside me. He said he wouldn’t touch me in return.

  I was grateful for that.

  I wouldn’t risk him deciding otherwise.

  Taking a fortifying breath, I reached for his impressive length. The moment my fingers locked around his velvety girth, his head tipped back, and he collapsed against the wall behind him. “Fuck.”

  Once again, he gave me everything. He put himself entirely into my hands as I stroked him from crown to stem.

  He groaned long and low as I cupped his balls with my free hand, tugging down as I stroked up with my other.

  I wouldn’t drag this out. He wanted to come? I’d make him release as quick as possible.

  “Christ.” His forehead furrowed, and his eyes stayed shut, squeezed tight as if in agony and anguish. His hips thrust forward, pushing his heat through my fist, doing what he said and fucking my hand.

  The wildness inside him sprang to the surface. A demonic forest dweller who followed no rules and found pleasure wherever the hell he wanted.

  He thrust sharper, quicker into my palm.

  I matched his pace.

  I stroked and tugged, rolling my wrist and dragging my thumb over the slit already damp with pre-cum. His balls throbbed in my hands, growing hotter with every thrust.

  It was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  Yet somehow, I felt powerful. I had a man quaking from my touch. A man who looked as if he could raze entire villages and challenge any other male to death if they came within sniffing distance.

  His power transferred to me.

  He gave it to me the entire time he shivered under my touch.

  I squeezed him harder.

  He buckled and thrust faster.

  The chemistry between us deleted everything, leaving only misty lust and feverish shame.

  “God, don’t stop. Don’t...fucking...stop.” His voice wasn’t human anymore, thick as bristled fur and black as midnight.

  I stopped thinking.

  I became his to use as he worked himself deeper and faster into my fist.

  The muscles in his belly twitched into starker definition. His thighs bunched, and his hands landed in my hair as his lips opened in a feral grunt. His face was one tight grimace. His teeth sharp and features entirely primitive.

  “Fuck...” His hair swung around his ears as he tipped his head forward and thrust a final time into my palm. “Fuuuuck!”

  His fingers pulsed in my hair in time to the ribbons of cum jettisoning from the top of his cock. My hand grew sticky as the scent of his musk infiltrated the bathroom. On his last clench and jerky sigh, his forehead crashed against mine, and my heart stopped.

  His lips sought for me.

  His breath skated over my lips.

  He dragged me closer by my hair, losing himself to the inevitable kiss.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t pull away.

  I panicked at the thought of what a kiss from this man could mean.

  At what it would do to me.

  Don’t....

  But as his lips almost touched mine, as the heat of his mouth seared my own, common sense slammed into him. He shoved me away so quickly, I tripped over my feet and skidded on my discarded towel.

  Falling to my knees, I looked up at him. I blinked at the sudden change, then glanced down at the white threads of his seed all over my hand and wrist. I held evidence that he’d come undone, that the wild beast before me had granted me his power, even if it’d been for a few seconds.

  He was about to kiss me...

  Raw rage painted his face, killing all the passionate chaos inside him. Raking ten fingers through his hair, he blew out hard then ducked and wrenched up his slacks. He buttoned and zipped with quaking hands, almost as if being naked for longer than necessary was a sin he couldn’t commit.

  It went against how I’d met him.

  He’d worn nothing that day.

  He’d run as if not wearing clothes was familiar and enjoyed.

  He’d been a savage barbarian as much as a beast.

  So why did he act as if I had no right to see him undressed now?

  “Clean that up.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust at my cum-covered hand. “Once you’re done, join me in the bedroom.”

  He stalked out before I could blink.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I PACED.

  I wanted to run. To bolt. To gallop so far and so fast that this godforsaken place could never trap me again.

  She was wrong.

  She was dangerous.

  Her touch had felt a million times better than any touches from my past. Beyond intense. Terrifyingly consuming. A simple squeeze had stopped my heart. A quick tug had made me detonate. What was I supposed to do with that? How was I supposed to stop my body from wanting more when she put a fucking hex on me?

  Christ.

  Pacing to the window, I glanced out at the dark-shrouded wilderness. A coyote dashed past in the moonlight, followed by the chatter of a raccoon in the distance.

  They were free.

  I was not.

  I thought I’d earned my freedom; turned out, I was still chained to this place, and now I had yet another cross to bear.

  Her.

  “I’m...clean.”

  Her voice whipped me around.

  She stood wrapped in the towel I’d given her, blond hair darkened by water, her hands blessedly washed from my mess. Seeing the evidence of how badly I’d lost control had pissed me off. I’d never liked the by-product of sex. I always found it almost as disgusting as the need for sex itself.

  The pleasure she’d granted had blinded me and struck me dumb, but the crash afterward had never hurt so much. I couldn’t keep doing this, but I also couldn’t fucking stop either.

  Gritting my teeth, I marched across the bedroom and yanked open the closet. I’d cleaned this room last month. It was my second least favorite in the house. Not because of the red and silver color scheme but because of what’d happened in that bed.

  At least the clothes in the wardrobe were ownerless. No one had left them behind. They didn’t smell of another. They were spares in case someone needed a gown, lingerie, or outdoor attire.

  Stepping back, I waved stiffly at the hanging offerings. “Take what you want. Makes no difference to me.”

  I couldn’t wear any of it. If my stash of male clothing eventually ran out, I might learn how to cut up a ball dress and fashion a shirt, but until that day came, I wanted nothing to do with them.

  “Thanks.” She offered a small nod and drifted toward the wardrobe, her hands that’d touched me now clutching her towel as if it were a force field against me.

  The sweep of her shoulder blades sent another crackle of lust down my legs as she turned her back on me and rifled through the clothes.

  I wanted to snatch the towel off her. To reveal her nakedness beneath. I hadn’t drunk my fill before. I doubted I ever would, even if I commanded her to walk around naked for the rest of her imprisonment.

  All my questions about her body had been answered.

  Her stomach was toned.

  Her legs were pale but not ghostly.

  Her muscles were lean and carved beneath soft ink-free skin, adding definition to the curves of a woman who had substance. If I hadn’t believed she climbed here before, I did now. Even her fingers were strong. Her grip had rivaled anyone who’d ever touched me. She’d squeezed hard when I’d needed it and relaxed when I’d spent. She had the uncanny ability to read
me, and it fucked with my head.

  She was supposed to be the one afraid. She was the one trapped. So, what the hell was going on between us?

  Moving toward the bed, I sat stiffly while she pulled a soft charcoal sweater from the wardrobe. Bending, she opened the drawers below, selecting a pair of lacy white underwear, some black satiny slacks, and bronze threaded socks.

  Beside me rested the item I’d gone to fetch when she’d shut down.

  She’d mentioned a way to tie her.

  It’d reminded me of something.

  That something was now resting against my hip and waiting to be used.

  Glancing at me over her shoulder, she bit her lip as if debating whether to take her stash back into the bathroom where I couldn’t see her or perform a reverse striptease for me.

  Leaning back on my hands, I tilted my head, waiting to see what she’d choose.

  Her eyes locked on the leather coil beside me. Questions ghosted over her face, followed by stubborn pride not to ask. She was smart beneath her stupidity of trespassing and offering herself up to me, so she probably already knew what the cuff entailed.

  Another means of captivity that she wasn’t prepared to address right now.

  Once again, she stood in a dilemma. She swayed toward the bathroom, hugging her chosen clothes. If she left, I’d order her to return. I wanted to watch. Therefore, she had no choice but to let me.

  She seemed to know that—once again reading me correctly.

  That unnerved me but could also prove useful. If I groomed her well enough, all it would take was a simple stare, and she’d be on her knees ready to serve.

  My balls tightened.

  She’d surprised me that she hadn’t run when I’d left earlier. Then again, the hollowness in her eyes when I’d tipped up her chin hadn’t been faked. No one could fake that depth of unhappiness. In that, we had things in common, and I was both proud and slightly sick that I’d been the one to put such sadness there.

  She surprised me again as she finally made her choice. Inhaling sharply, she whipped her head back around and dropped her towel.

  Instantly, my cock swelled and ached.

  I’d seen hundreds of stunning women. Slim ones, expensive ones, cruel ones. But never had any of them come close to the provocative perfection of this girl. If I had the freedom to touch myself, I would have.