huh?”
He rolled his eyes, and it was funny to see a grown ass, big framed man nearing fifty with a bushy moustache, rolling his eyes like a petulant schoolgirl.
“You have absolutely zero comprehension of the hard times I have endured, Emma, and I hope you never have to,” he replied, solemnly. “And that’s why I’m here. That is my job.”
I sighed. “You’re such a party pooper.”
“Why am I a ‘party pooper’?” He said that with air quotes and all, looking offended.
“Because you don’t know how to just relax and have fun.”
“I’m not paid to relax and have fun. I’m paid to protect you, and the situation we’re in demands a certain level of seriousness that forces me to be a so-called ‘party pooper’.” More air quotes.
“Boring.”
It was his turn to sigh.
In all seriousness, I understood the situation warranted caution. The text had visibly rattled Borden, and while I didn’t actually read it, I knew it was bad and the threat was real. I was doing as I was told because I didn’t want to be those dumb girls that defied orders and went out on their own, pretending there wasn’t a real danger in doing so. I watched enough horror movies to know they always died, and they died in the most awful way too. Like being cooked alive in a spa booth, or hacked to pieces by a chainsaw. Real fucked up shit like that, which led me to questioning why on earth I would watch movies like that in the first place.
Anyway, I didn’t want to die. I liked my life lately. I was being fucked by a god of a man on a daily basis, was still free to see my friends and grandmother, still making good money at a job next to said god of a man. The only complaint was that I was surrounded by Borden’s men in the process.
Or Borden himself.
I had to be honest, it wasn’t so bad when he was around. He was unpredictable, and I always felt my pulse race in anticipation when he lingered nearby. Sometimes he’d just look at me, his face clear of emotion save for those icy blue eyes which bore into me with a lust that made me tingle everywhere. He wouldn’t touch me in those moments. Just stare and admire me the way a person admired a delicate piece of art.
And sometimes he just fucked me, out of nowhere, right when I least expected it. I could be making coffee in the kitchen and find myself bent over with my cheek pressed against the kitchen counter and his cock deep inside of me. Muttering things in my ear. Biting at my shoulder. Pounding into me until I came so hard around him my vision would lose focus, and he’d just carry on until he came, marking me.
There was no consistency with him. No night time sex sessions all neatly planned out and pencilled in. The spontaneity was glorious. I loved being used for his pleasure, which was a sick admission, I knew. But…it made my body fiery hot with need. Horny Emma was currently satiated and quiet.
No complaints here.
“Can I know who’s down there at least?” I asked, purposely steering clear of images of Borden inside of me, working me like the strings on a guitar. “I mean, how come Linda gets to walk in and out, and smirk at me like I’m beneath her, and I’m stuck here?”
“Linda is different.”
“Different how?”
“She doesn’t belong to Borden.”
Yeah, but I bet she wanted to. She hated me, probably as much as Hawke did. Only difference was I caught her staring at Borden at times and her look was so penetrating and filled with emotion. She cared for him, and it was no wonder she was always such a bitch to me. Whereas Hawke’s hatred was immediate and without real reason, and it only extinguished in the presence of Borden. He reminded me of a stray cat Granny used to take in some nights when I was a child. She called her Joy, and I never understood that, because that fucking cat wasn’t joyful in the slightest. She scratched and clawed, growled at me whenever