Page 17 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)

THIRTEEN

GRIFFIN

I pull her away from the party by the hand but refuse to let her go once we get into the car. I nod at my driver, and he heads in the direction of my penthouse.

Her hand is warm and comforting in mine, and I feel the sudden urge to kiss the sting from her cheek away. But that would reveal that I had witnessed the scene between her and none other than the pesky blonde.

Naz had been gone too long, and I was worried that something might have happened to her. I have more enemies at this function than friends, and I couldn’t put it past anyone to try their luck.

I excused myself from the table and was still chuckling about the confused expression on one of the foreign dignitaries’ faces when I came around the corner to witness a rare moment .

I went looking for Naz, and to my surprise, I found her knee-deep in an altercation with Zander Carter’s daughter. I wish I could remember her name, but she wasn’t important enough for that.

I balled my fist at my sides when Naz’s words floated to me.

“Griffin is mine, and I will not allow you to sully his or my name in any way. He is a fine man…”

I have defied her every chance I get.

This arrangement was contentious at best.

Still, she defends me to a total stranger that I definitely screwed over. The blonde has every right to be angry. I finger fucked her and then used it against her father to get my way. I am sure he gave her a momentous talking to.

Although she must not have learnt her lesson, because going after my woman will not be tolerated. I will have to deal with that tomorrow.

Not that she didn’t handle it beautifully. Actually, I have never seen such loyalty displayed. And I am in a business where loyalty is more important than money.

“Griffin is mine.”

The words keep echoing in my mind. She endured that slap for me. She stood her ground and never flinched in the face of opposition.

You’ve got to respect a woman like that.

She knows what she wants, and she is willing to fight to protect it.

No, not it, me.

She fought to protect me.

That has never happened before.

Emotions rush to the surface and weaken my defenses. I am taken back to a time when I failed to be strong. When I had no one to protect me.

Feet frozen, incapable of helping Naz, I recalled the one night that changed everything.

I chose to stay out till after Mom came home. She always worked late. Or maybe she used it as an excuse to lessen the hours we needed to spend with his wicked temper and foul mouth.

If only she would have listened to me, we could have ditched his ass and gotten far, far away before he woke up from his drunken stupor.

She claimed love kept her coming back day after day and that one day I would understand as well. When I found the right person to love.

I always snorted at her idiotic point of view. Mostly because she sprouted this bullshit while applying another layer of makeup to cover up yet another bruise.

Love isn’t real. It is vindictive and brutal, and the sooner she realized it, the sooner we could get away from him. It was the only way to survive this fucked up situation.

The lights in the house were dark, and it could only mean that she hadn’t returned yet, but most unlikely.

It was rather late. I turned my key in the door ever so slightly as to not alert him to the fact that I was finally back.

I had barely opened the door when it was ripped from my hands.

The handle collided with the wall, and the sound echoed into the darkness of the corridor.

I tripped over the step when I was yanked into the opening with his hands clamped around my arms.

“Where the fuck have you been? School has been out for hours.”

His breath reeked of whiskey and sour cigarettes, and I had to clasp my hand over my mouth to stop from being sick. I did that only once and still have the permanent marks to show for it.

“Mom said I could go to a friend’s house. We had homework to do,” I said, voice slightly wobbly.

He always knew when I was lying, which was most of the time, but still.

“How did such a pathetically weak fucking failure like you come from my lions? You are a liar and a coward. My family used to breed fucking Vikings. I was killing for my country at sixteen and you hide like a little girl. I am surrounded by weakness. Well, no more.”

It always started like this, and it was best to keep quiet. Only this time I couldn’t stop myself.

“What are you going to do, old man? Beat me like all the other times? Then escort me to the school to make sure I lie to the principal about who gave me the black eye this time. If I am a liar, it is because you made me one. But I have never been a coward. The only reason I have not taught you a lesson is for Mom’s sake.

Even though I don’t understand it, she loves you, and it would hurt her if I put you out of your misery.

Tell me, why did you choose to be a family man when you knew you were a vindictive, cruel bastard instead? ”

My head bounced off the opposite wall, and, in my haste to get up, nausea overwhelmed me.

I slid back down to the floor, incapable of stopping his icy fingers from wrapping around my throat.

He raised me slowly against the wall, my head scraping against the roughness.

When my feet left the ground, I clawed at his arms in vain.

He seethed in my face, “I have had enough of you and the pitiful woman you call a mother. You think you are so strong, boy? You think you are in control, little man? Let’s see if you can save her and prove you are a real man.”

He squeezed harder, and my windpipe collapsed. My feet kicked in vain, trying to inflict some sort of blow that would distract him from his plan.

It was there in his eyes.

This was it.

No mercy.

No regret.

I don’t know if it was the liquor talking, but I had to believe that deep down, these feelings must have been rooted somewhere in his soul to escape every time his guard was down.

He was a killer, and I wasn’t fighting it anymore.

I lowered my hands, and although I wasn’t in control of my body spasms, they became less frequent.

I surrendered to the darkness. My arms became limp, and my eyes begged to close.

I wanted to recall my mother’s face so as not to let the last image in my mind be his ruthless face, contorted in anger and sadistic glee.

But I could not recall anything as I slipped into the abyss…

Naz’s sudden movements brought me back. She was pushing Blondie against the wall by her throat. That’s my girl.

Her voice was clear with a hint of malice, and honestly, I had never been more turned on in my life.

An overwhelming desire to please her formed in the pit of my stomach right there and then.

No! Is this what she has been talking about? I refuse to acknowledge whatever this is surging through my body.

Nothing will make me surrender completely, and I will fight her until the day we part ways; I must be strong.

But right at that moment, all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and worship at her feet.

As we drive now, the car’s interior is dimmed, but I get flashes of light illuminating the turmoil on her face. I yearn to remove that look from her face and replace it with ecstasy.

I didn’t miss the horror on her face when the blow landed. Instantly, she was transported to another place before she recovered.

An alarm bell is niggling my mind, and the irritation will only be soothed once I have found out more about her.

She has been a complete mystery so far, and none of my guys have found anything even remotely interesting in her past. But I am certain there must be something.

Mike suggested that we take a more legal route. But I have heard nothing back.

We arrive at my building, and I place my hand on the skin of her warm thigh. She recoils before she recognizes me and sags back into the seat.

“We are here. Are you ready?”

She nods, and I walk around the car to shoo the driver away. I want to open the door for her. It feels right when I take her hand in mine and pull her close to my body.

“I am warning you. I won’t go easy on you. You deserve everything that is going to happen tonight.”

Her eyes are fearful, but she takes my hand and follows me to the elevator.

“Did you want to tell me why you took such a long time in the bathroom?”

She simply shakes her head, and I don’t press anymore. I press the button to my floor and we wait in silence .

When the door slides open, I allow her to walk ahead of me, and feel a slight tremble move through her arm when I pass her to unlock the door.

We enter, and I immediately take off my jacket, hang it on the back of a chair, and wait for her to face me.

“So, what do you want? On the bed, ass up? Or in the shower?” she simply states.

But she is fooling no one. Her body is wired, and she looks around anxiously for an escape.

“All good suggestions, but I thought we could try something new,” I calmly say.

“Just don’t tie me up. Then I should be good,” she retorts.

Interesting. I kick off my shoes and go to kneel before her on the wooden living room floor.

“What are you doing?” Confusion distorts her face.

“I want you to tell me how to fuck you.” My hands fight the urge to reach out and caress the soft skin of her thigh as exposed by the high slit of the dress. From this angle, I can clearly see the absence of any other garments.

Gasping, she places her hand on my head.

“Do you want to submit?” Her voice is issuing a lingering demand.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The hand on my head is trembling.

“What is your safe word?”

“Rebel, Mistress. ”

She needs this. And I need to give it to her. I need to show her that she was correct in protecting me. Prove that she was justified in claiming me as her own.

“Good, little one. Get up and go and collect three items from the fridge. You haven’t had dinner yet.”

Eagerly, I rise and trot to the fridge.

I grab the cold vodka until she calls out behind me, “No alcohol.”