I didn’t care about the tears trickling down my face or the constriction in my throat. All I wanted to do was hurt him.
I kicked my feet and swung my arms, striking Preston anywhere I could. He responded to my attack by dropping me on the ground and backhanding me across the face.
That was enough to make me stop.
Blood trickled from my split lip as I rolled my eyes up. “I hate you.”
“You think I give a fuck?” Preston bent over, grabbed my chin, and dug his fingers into my cheeks. “I want you to hate me.”
This was different than all the other times. Usually, he was calculated, calm, and cold. But now, Preston was pissed, and not because I hit him. Something else irritated him before he came into the room. As intriguing as that was, it was something I could figure out later.
Right now, I had to calm him down. Otherwise, I really would die in this cage.
The only question was, how in the hell did I do that?
I don’t know where the words came from or why I even thought of that moment, but when Preston started to lean in, I quickly spouted out, “You said you were going to teach me.”
He paused and knitted his brow. “What?”
Was this working?
“You said you would teach me everything I needed to know.” I pushed myself to sit. “So, teach me.”
I assumed he meant sexually, but given the other choice, that was the lesser of two evils.
Preston stared down at me as if searching for something, but his shoulders relaxed slightly, so I decided to keep going.
I got on my knees, sat down on my calves, and peeked up at him through my lashes.
“Is this what you want?”
There was a second where I held my breath and waited for everything to blow up in my face. That moment didn’t come.
“Put your hands on your thighs,” Preston ordered. “Palms up.”
I did what he said.
“Bow your head.”
I did that too.
Playing docile kitten was a small price to pay. I would humiliate myself if that was what it took. My problem came when Preston stroked the back of my head. I had to remind myself not to flinch while my scalp tingled and fear pumped through my heart. It was a strange yet somehow enticing contradiction. A soft, tender touch coated in rage. It was also disturbing how much I liked it.
“I know what you’re doing.”
That wasn’t exactly hard to figure out. “Is it working?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to hurt me?” I shivered at that question.
Then again, with his answer.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to?”
Preston continued to pet my head. Forever seemed to pass while I sat there waiting. The feel of his fingers combing through my hair was oddly relaxing, so much so that I’d almost forgotten about my question.
