"There's something about surprising someone." He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. "I can almost smell the fear—he inhaled– and feel your heart hammering inside your chest from clear across the room. It's almost like sex."
She stiffened. Unable to take her eyes off him, she remained silent. For how much he was scaring her—and he was definitely freaking her out—there was something else about him that frightened her even more.
His eyes, usually so clear and direct, held hers, but it was almost as if he wasn't seeing her. Yet, he was looking. The disconnectedness physically wounded her.
"Have you ever experienced tasting the terror you bring out in someone?" He shook his head, breaking his gaze. "No, probably not. You've had no reason to frighten anyone."
"Serge, I–"
"I'm not asking you to talk." He stood and approached the other side of the kitchen island. "I left you last night with a request that you call me in the morning. You didn't."
"I–"
"You. Did. Not," he said. "Nor did you answer the phone all day. So, in my worry, I came here."
"W-what?" She reeled away and pressed herself against the refrigerator.
Instead of going into the office this morning, I came here to help you. Because that's what I fucking promised I'd do. Imagine my surprise when my knock went unanswered. Then, upon finding you not home, I made some phone calls. After confirming with one of your employees, I believe his name was Kenneth, I learned you were at work, and according to him, you were setting up cots and lugging groceries into the kitchen." He stepped around the island and leaned his hip on the corner. "My worry turned to anger.
She crossed her arms, thought better of infuriating him more, and put her fists down at her sides. "I can explain."
"Oh, you can explain?" He gazed up at the ceiling. "Since you're feeling well enough to work, it goes without saying that you're in good enough shape to fuck."
Her throat closed. She shook her head because that wasn't what she wanted.
"That's what I want. I want to fuck you. Fuck you so hard you won't think about lying to me again."
He stalked toward her. She melted against the flat, slick surface of the fridge, and even then, she couldn't escape. Not giving her an inch, he pinned her against the appliance. She gasped at the definite hardness pressed into her stomach.
His head lowered, and he spoke into her ear. "You want to know the real me? I'll show you. You want to speed things up and take what I need instead of pussy footing around with what I was giving you so you don't get scared, I'll give that to you, too."
His hot breath on her ear sent a quiver down her spine. One she tried hard to push back, one she wanted to refuse, one she knew she shouldn't like. But, she did.
"I told you what you'd get from me, and you stayed. You know what kind of man I am, and you begged me." He nipped her earlobe with his teeth. "No doubt, if I put my hand in your panties, my fingers will come away wet."
She turned her head away from him. He merely followed her and placed his mouth on her neck. The firm suction on the delicate skin at the top of her shoulder confirmed he was right. Her core spasmed, rebelling against her brain.
"I made a promise," he whispered against her skin. "I will always, always, take care of you."
Her knees weakened, and he dipped his body, nailing her to the appliance. His erection ground into the V of her thighs. Her eyes rolled, and she closed her eyelids in a vain attempt to hide the truth from him.
She wanted this. This wild, unbridled passion he brought out in her.
The dominance. Overtaking her power to think beyond the moment. Everything.
"S-Serge..." She wasn't sure if she spoke or thought his name.
"I'm making you a new promise, so listen carefully." He took her wrists and held them out to the sides, stretching her, crucifying her. "I will die trying to get inside your head. You can't run from me. What you think, feel, and fear is now mine. I will know every secret you've buried, every worry you've fed, and every love you've nurtured. You think I'm scary now, just fuck around and find out."
As if he'd promised her the moon instead of threatening her safety, she let go. Every muscle in her body ceased to work. Serge held her dangling from her wrists. The force of his hardness cut into her pubic bone, and the pain, the discomfort, the inability to do a thing about it, because she wanted everything he promised.
She'd gone beyond fearing him. He was the only man who could save her.
"Please." She hung her head. "Please, please..."
Whether she begged him to hold up his end of the promise and not give up on her, or to end the torment of what he was doing to her body, she couldn't say. She only knew he filled her with something so profound she'd die without him.
The tinkle and clash of glass snapped her gaze up to find dishware broken across the floor. He lifted her as she comprehended that he'd knocked everything off the counter. She groaned as the front of her body met the cold tile of the kitchen island. He yanked her jeans over her ass, down her legs, and then pulled her ankles until her legs hung off the counter. Facedown, she reached out, but her hands slipped on the smooth tile.
