Descent Page 10

  I just stare back at him.

  “I’m bringing you down a notch.”

  14

  Hayden

  I’m not sure what I prefer. A woman on her knees her mouth filled with my cock, or a woman on her knees about to take my dick in her pussy or her ass.

  I guess the common theme here is a woman on her knees.

  And Persephone on her knees like this, fuck, if I’m not careful I’ll blow in my fist just looking at her.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, scooping up the last of the butter and finger-fucking her tight little hole. “I’ve lubricated you inside and out. You just try to relax and enjoy the ride.” I pull my fingers out and bring the head of my cock to her tight hole.

  “No, no, no! You’ll rip me in two! Please!” Her eyes go wide as I grip her hips with both hands, using my thumbs to spread her ass cheeks wider. I close my eyes and enjoy that initial squeeze.

  “Fuuuuck,” I open my eyes and look at her. “You’ll be the death of me.” I pump slowly, taking centimeter by centimeter. I don’t want to hurt her. I want her ready when I fuck her. I want to watch her swallow her pride as she comes multiple times with my dick up her tight ass.

  “It hurts!”

  I slide one hand down to her clit and when I take it into my hand, she catches her breath. For a moment, she’s fighting it, fighting me, but I feel when her body relaxes, when she arches her back just a little.

  “Do you hate me now?” I ask when she closes her eyes and I take an inch. Her asshole is tight and warm and slippery with the butter lubricant. “Tell me,” I say, pumping slowly, looking down at her as she stretches to take my length, my girth.

  When she doesn’t reply, I smack her ass.

  She gasps and her eyes fly open.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I…” she starts but I’m rubbing her clit again. I’m about half-way in and fuck, I’m going to come hard.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  Her answer is a whimper as her mouth opens and her eyes close.

  I grin, rub her swollen nub and watch her face because she’s so fucking beautiful when she comes. When her walls begin to pulse around my cock, I claim more of her, her moans making me harder, her asshole opening to me like a greedy little thing that wants more. More. More.

  I’m happy to oblige.

  When I’m fully seated, I stop, taking a moment to enjoy the tremors of aftershock as she pants and tries to force my hand from her clit.

  “I’m all the way in. All the way inside your tight little hole. Are you ready to get your ass fucked, sweetheart?”

  “I can’t…It’s too much—”

  “You can and you will. You’ll take my cum too. I’m going to fill you up with my cum.”

  And when I pull out and thrust back in, she lets out a loud moan, and arches her back. The words she’s saying are nonsensical. The only one I recognize is my own name.

  Hades.

  The name she gave me a breath on her tongue.

  Her life’s breath.

  God.

  Fuck.

  This woman. Fuck. Fuck me. I’m screwed.

  Because I know what this is.

  And as her walls throb again, I thrust deep inside her and still there. It’s like just then, in that moment, time is suspended. Stopping just for us and we’re both coming. She’s moaning my name, her cheek on the floor, eyes closed, one hand fisted, the other clawing at the carpet as I fill her up. As I empty inside her and I claim this other part of her. And all the while I know the truth, even if she doesn’t.

  She owns a part of me. She always has.

  No. That’s not it.

  Persephone owns my fucking soul.

  15

  Persephone

  How is it like this with him? How is everything different with him?

  He’s gentle after. He lifts me up and cradles me on his lap like I’m his most precious possession.

  I lay my head against his warm chest and close my eyes. I listen to his heartbeat and let myself snuggle into the safety of his arms.

  And like last night, I want to cry.

  I don’t understand this confusion of emotion. This chaos inside my head. My heart.

  He’s right. I don’t hate him. And it’s not just that that scares me. It’s that the opposite is true. It’s always been true. Maybe since that first day out on the curb when I was a kid.

  And I know I’m fucked. I am well and truly fucked.

  That’s exactly why I can’t do this. Why I can’t let him hold me. Why I can’t let him be gentle. Tender, even.

  I can’t take comfort in his arms, or against his chest. I can’t feel protected. Safe.

  I can’t.

  I push away, look up at him.

  He seems surprised but doesn’t speak. He studies me instead and I have to be careful because I think maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s not human.

  He can’t just read my mind. I think he can see inside my soul.

  “I don’t want Anna,” I blurt out.

  “What?” He’s clearly taken aback.

  “I don’t want a cook.”

  My throat feels full, like the emotion is going to choke me. Like it’s going to cut off my oxygen and kill me.

  I push away, try to stand, stumbling as I do with my jeans around my ankles.

  He’s already got his pants up. I guess he took care of that after fucking me.

  I bend to pull my jeans up while he gets to his feet. He disappears into a room I didn’t realize was there—another one of those doors flush with the wall like the elevator. I hear water running and a few moments later, he returns, drying his hands.

  “Let me clean you,” he says.

  I still feel him inside me, his cum inside me. And this insane, masochistic part of me, it wants that part of him.

  Wants any part of him.

  I shake my head, rub my face. “Where’s my coat?” I ask, snatching my purse from the couch.

  “Persephone—”

  “I need to go.” I swipe my hand over my eyes, hoping he thinks it’s just an itch. Not the tears I need to hide.

  “What’s going on?” he asks.

  I take a deep breath in, my gaze falling on the empty butter dish. I try not to think about what he did with that butter.

  “Persephone?”

  I think about other things instead. Bad things.

  Nora.

  No, not that. That’s too sad.

  Jonas?

  Bad, yes. But not that either. That will only steal my strength.

  My father.

  Yes.

  My father.

  I conjure up the image of him lying in his hospital bed. I think about the man who ran him over and drove away. I think about how maybe it wasn’t an accident. How that’s always been in the back of my mind.

  I think about my betrayal today, signing that contract and giving Hayden control of Abbot Enterprises while my father lies helpless in a hospital bed. I think about being cornered by Hayden and I steel my spine because I have to.

  I force a grin that must make me look insane and try to swallow that lump in my throat. Try to ignore the twisting in my belly. The constricting of my heart.

  “Well, you did it. You brought me down a notch. Congratulations.” Tears. Fucking tears. I hate them. “I’m going to go see my father now.”

  I remember then that my coat is downstairs. I took it off when I came in here. God, how I’d come in here. Cavalier. A warrior!

  A fucking idiot.

  “Don’t worry,” I hear my voice quaver. “I’ll be home later for whatever humiliations you have planned for me tonight.” I make my way to the elevator and look at the keypad. Fuck, I can’t even get out of here. “Let me out,” I say, staring straight ahead because I can’t look at him.

  “Mind telling me what the hell just happened?” he asks.

  I push buttons, it’s ridiculous I know, but I’m desperate.

  He captures my fingers, closes his big
hand around them.

  “Persephone.”

  I can’t do this. “Let me out.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Let me the fuck out!”

  He holds me, presses his body to mine. His arm wraps around me, hugging me to him but I can’t lean into him. I can’t rest my cheek against his chest. I can’t. Not if I want to survive this. Survive him.

  Too late.

  “Stay,” he says.

  I open my mouth and I know he hears it. Hears me crying. “I paid my time for now. You can’t require more.”

  “Stay with me,” a whisper, and then silence. Just his breath at my ear, just my tears sliding down my face.

  “Let me go.” Because if you don’t, I’m going to lose it. I’m going to lose it here and now and I can’t do that. “Please, Hades.”

  Keeping my hand in his, he stretches his arm to punch in the code on the pad by the elevator.

  I thank God that the doors slide open instantly. I don’t look back when I step inside. I don’t look at my reflection, either. I don’t meet his eyes in the mirror. I keep my gaze down, very aware of his eyes on me.

  And when the doors slide closed, I let my shoulders slump and rest my forehead against the mirrored wall, finally meeting my reflection. What I see scares me. Because what I see is a woman broken.

  “I’m going to stain you, Persephone.”

  Is this what he means by that? That he’ll break me in order to own me. A body is not a soul, doesn’t he know that?

  But with Hayden, it’s different. Different than it was with Jonas even when we were engaged.

  Jonas never had any claim on me.

  Hayden? He can and will steal my soul.

  A few moments later, the elevator doors open again, and I hear the sound of men talking, smell cigars and whiskey. Isn’t it early for such indulgences?

  Before turning, I find my sunglasses in my bag and slip them on my face. Without bothering to ask for my coat, I walk out, shivering in the cold morning air.

  I find my Jeep, get in then fumble with the key to get the engine started.

  And when I finally drive away, it’s not to the facility where my father is housed. It’s back home, well, to the back entrance of the house where I trudge through melting snow and make my way to the chapel between our properties. Make my way into that dreary place and hug my arms to myself as I sit in a broken pew, making myself look at the wrecked altar. At the broken Christ half-hanging on his cross from the wall.

  I don’t know why I come here. Why I call for God here of all places. It’s not like he ever answers. Not for me. Not for Nora. Not when we needed him. And certainly not now.

  16

  Persephone

  The shadows have grown long before I pull the Jeep onto the driveaway. I’m surprised when I do to see the truck from Sotheby’s consignment parked outside.

  I can’t deal with this right now.

  Climbing out of the Jeep, I walk up the front steps of the house, open the door. I hear Anna right away. Am I surprised she’s still here? Not really.

  “Hello?” I call out, appreciating the warmth of the house. The broken walls of the chapel don’t offer much protection.

  They’ve lit the fireplace in the entryway. It’s a huge one. I haven’t seen it lit in a very long time. It was always too much of a bother for my father, so he only did it when we had company, which was less and less often in the last years.

  If I think back now, I see the signs of what’s come. Signs of our decline. If I’d paid closer attention, would I have known earlier? Would I have been able to help? To make a difference?

  But my father was larger than life to me. I could rely on him. Lean all my weight into him. I never even imagined a life without him. And it never occurred to me we might one day lose everything.

  “Anna?” I walk toward the sound of a man laughing.

  What I find, though, isn’t what I expect.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, stepping into the dining room to see them place the final pieces of furniture back exactly where they belong.

  The two men from yesterday and Anna look up at me. The men appear confused, but Anna smiles. “Mr. Montgomery arranged for the delivery, Miss. If anything isn’t in the right place, we can rearrange it.”

  “I think I remembered how you’d set it up,” one of the men says.

  I walk out of the dining room and into the living room. Same thing there. All the furniture back in place.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, although I’m not sure to whom.

  “If you’ll just sign here,” the shorter man with the clipboard says to me. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

  “But why did you bring it back?”

  He looks puzzled. “Not a question we normally get.” He smiles awkwardly, eyes his colleague.

  “I didn’t…” I swallow my pride. “I can’t pay for it.” If they think they’ll get their money back, they’re mistaken.

  “I just do the deliveries, Ms. Abbot. If you’ll sign?”

  I take the pen and sign and a few moments later, they’re gone, and I’m left looking at Anna.

  “Oh, your sister came by to pick up some clothes. She said she’s spending a few more nights with her friend. She wanted me to let you know.”

  “She did? When?”

  “About an hour ago. And Mr. Montgomery’s asked that you be ready by half past seven. He asked that you wear the red gown.”

  I dig for my phone in my purse and switch it back on. I’d switched it off when Hayden wouldn’t stop calling me.

  I have thirteen missed calls from him.

  Ignoring them, I try to dial Lizzie, but her phone goes right to voicemail, so I disconnect.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Anna asks.

  I shake my head, turn to walk away while my brain works to make sense of this. I should just ask Hayden. He’s the one who arranged for the return of our things. Did he buy our furniture back? Although, I guess like the house it’s his furniture now.

  I go upstairs, checking the time on my phone when a message comes through.

  “You disappear again, and we have a problem.”

  Hayden.

  And he’s pissed.

  Good.

  I tuck the phone into my pocket, and I wonder if Anna reported my return to him. I guess so.

  I go up to my room and sit on the edge of the bed. I call Celia and apologize for not coming. I ask her how dad is—the same—and promise to visit tomorrow. I then strip off my clothes and run a bath, locking the bathroom door and soaking until the water cools, all the while thinking about what happened. Why it felt like it did—not like he said was his intent at all. Not him taking me down a notch.

  Was it the same for him?

  “Don’t be stupid,” I tell myself out loud and climb out of the tub to get ready for tonight.

  I did, after all, promise to be available for further humiliations.

  17

  Hayden

  I carry Persephone’s coat as I walk through the house to look into the now furnished rooms. Everything back in place like I remember it.

  Anna is talking, giving me a rundown of events, but her voice is like a buzzing in my ear and I don’t really care.

  “Is she upstairs?” I ask, cutting Anna off as I glance up the long, curving staircase. She’d better be.

  “Yes, sir,” she says.

  I nod and head up, opening her bedroom door. She’s sitting at the vanity that’s been replaced and wordlessly meets my gaze in the mirror.

  I toss her coat onto the bed and take a look around the room. “Everything where you want it?”

  She puts down the tube of lipstick and half-turns. She’s wearing the dress I told her to wear, which surprises me. The red is stunning on her, setting off her creamy skin and dark hair.

  “Why did you buy back the furniture?”

  “Isn’t ‘thank you’ more appropriate?”

  “I didn’t ask you to do it. And besides
, it’s not for me. It’s your house. Your furniture. I’m just your tenant.”

  I don’t know what the fuck is up with her. I thought the afternoon on her own would clear her head, but if she wants to play it this way, fine. I’ll engage.

  “I thought it was a fitting reward after this morning.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Like a ‘thank-you-for-the-fuck’?”

  “Exactly. Speaking of, how’s your ass?”

  “Fuck you.”

  I chuckle. “Brought your coat back. You were in a state to leave without it.”

  “Aren’t all the women you fuck in a state?”

  “I’m glad to see you’re starting to appreciate the honor of your position.”

  She snorts.

  “Speaking of positions, having you on your knees with your ass in the air may be my favorite for you.”

  Without bothering to look at me, she flips me off and I grin, check the time. “I need to shower and change.”

  She shrugs a shoulder like she could care less, her attention to applying lipstick.

  I walk into the bathroom and strip off my things, showering quickly. My clothes have been moved into the closet. Anna is a competent housekeeper. I put on my tux and am adjusting the bowtie when I walk back into the bedroom.

  “Where did you go?” I ask.

  “Nowhere.”

  “Not to your father.”

  “No, not there.”

  “Then where?”

  She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “None of your business.”

  “Everything about you is my business. But fine.”

  I pick up my phone which I’d left on the dresser and type in a text to Peter: Get a tracker installed on Ms. Abbot’s Jeep. It’s at the house. I want it done tonight.

  I get an instant reply confirming he’ll take care of it. This is the kind of service money buys.

  I tuck my phone into my pocket, take the tuxedo jacket off the hanger and put it on. I go to Persephone, place my hands on her shoulders and squeeze.

  “Red is your color.”

  She drops a compact into her clutch and I step back for her to stand. She’s wearing four-inch heels, but the top of her head just barely comes to my chin. I take a moment to look her over.