Fingers itch to travel as he watches her — careful to catch any changes,
any challenges sent his way — it was part of the reason he favoured her
after all. The others? Eye candy, plain and simple, but they were nothing
like this little piece beneath the palm of his hand. She was fire and the
others? Pure sugar.
Nothing like a little bite, right?
He grins, predatory and sharp as he lets his grip ease for now —-
though fingertips skate across her thigh as he pulls his hand back
only to gently take her chin between a forefinger and a thumb.
”I know you do, Sweet Pea. That’s why you’re My
Girl.”
With a deceptive gentleness, he cups her face with both hands, his
hold frighteningly soft — to any outside viewer the gesture would look
affectionate, loving — if only they could see beneath the surface the
bitter and ugly truth.
”Still, any man would get worried about the idea of his Girl
failing him or breaking her word — it could damn near
break his heart.”
He allows his voice to catch on his last word and for all intents and
purposes, he looks worried (he looks human)
But each were aware whose heart would truly break.
Looming threats last as long until the mask of genial owner slips
back into place and his hands slip away — though he remains
close to her purely for his own enjoyment.
”But enough gabbing, let’s see some of these ideas that’ll
add some flavor to this routine, hm?”
That's why you're my girl.
Honestly, it's enough to make her sick, enough to make her feel like she needs to take a bath and maybe not leave it for the next five hours. But he's right, isn't he? This is the fate she has resigned herself to, the hole she's dug herself for the sake of Rocket. She's his girl, through and through, and there is absolutely no way of escaping it.
( Sometimes she prays, begs that God listens
and sends somebody to take his gaze from
herself. But He hasn't listened since she
reached this awful place. )
It's worth it, she tells herself. She'd always said she'd go through Hell if it kept Rocket safe, but she'd never known it would happen quite like this. Where the Devil is a man with a gun and a thirst for the prettiest girls with swaying hips and long, blonde hair. She went freely, at least, of her own will, even if she did so somewhat unhappily.
And that's better than nothing.
For a few moments, she thinks he might kiss her, and it takes all of her strength not to pull away. She's his girl, she likes this, she likes him in all of his sick and twisted glory. Eyes close, and the kiss she braces for doesn't come.
( Maybe He is starting to listen. )
A breath escapes her lips and slowly does she open her eyes.
"I won't fail you, Blue," she promises, and suddenly finds herself wishing he'd kissed her after all, if not only so she could bite out his tongue. "I won't break your heart."
He lets go of her face, and she feels like she can breathe again. She'd breathe a whole lot better if he moved away, but he stays right where he is, sucking all the air and heat and life out of the room, filling it up with poison and rot.
He wants to see her dance. Good. She feels better when she's dancing, feels safer, feels like she's away from this place almost ( but never quite, and never how she wants ) and that's better than suffering his presence. Head jerks aside, off to the player on its rickety little wheel cart.
andulkaphoto
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
stormborns
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
