EDITED🤍
The sharp pain in my chest is the first sensation that hits me before I even open my eyes. My throat feels constricted, as though I've spent days screaming without a drop of water. With the little strength I have, I slowly peel my eyelids open, blinking rapidly to clear my blurred vision.
I'm lying on a bed—soft, and the blanket covering me is warm against my chilled skin. Memories of the brutality I've endured rush back, causing my breath to hitch painfully in my throat.
He almost killed me.
Struggling to breathe, my mouth opens desperately for air, the sensation of drowning revisiting me with every breath. But this is nothing new. I've experienced drowning before, though now the source of my fear is more immediate. I lie still on the bed, focusing on regulating my breath.
My heart nearly leaps from my chest when the door opens. I turn my head slightly and release a breath I didn't realize I was holding when I see a petite, middle-aged woman walk in.
"How are you feeling, miss?" she asks, standing over me and gently helping me sit up. As if expecting no answer, she continues, "I've been asked to bring you to dinner, but first you need a warm bath and some painkillers."
Her tone is casual, as if this were her daily routine. I remain silent as she helps me to the bathroom.
"Would you like me to assist you with the bath?" she asks. I shake my head slowly, leaning against the wall as I take tentative steps into the bathroom until I manage to close the door.
A bathtub dominates the space at the end of the luxurious bathroom. I stare at it, feeling suffocated all over again. To avoid processing my thoughts, I avoid looking at the source of my trauma and head to the shower instead, taking a scalding hot bath.
The heat of the water eases some of the pain, and I scrub my body thoroughly, hoping to erase the lingering torment.
"Miss, you need to hurry up," the woman's voice calls out, muffled through the door. I turn off the shower and wrap myself in a plush towel.
"My name is Stella, by the way," she introduces herself as she blow-dries my hair. I nod in response, lacking the energy for more conversation. I put on the white silk floral dress she hands me—it falls just below my knee, so pure and contrasting with the turmoil inside me.
After exiting the bedroom, Stella guides me down a corridor to a dining room connected to a modern kitchen. The house is sleek and modern, predominantly black and white.
A familiar fear grips me when I see him seated at the end of the table. His head is thrown back, eyes closed, his black shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up.
"Come here," he says without shifting from his position. I see that Stella has already left, so I approach him, my steps small and hesitant, preparing to pull out a chair.
"Not there, umree. Here," he commands, pointing to his lap with his crazed eyes fixed on me.
Despite the urge to flee, I force myself to sit on his lap. He leans down, pressing his broad chest against my back, and begins feeding me without a word.
"I... I'm full," I protest weakly. He merely glares at me before continuing until he deems the meal sufficient.
After the forced feeding, which leaves me uncomfortably full, he lifts me in his arms and takes me back to the bedroom. I let him, knowing I have no choice.
"Open," he commands, holding out some pills. I swallow them obediently. He climbs into bed, pulling me down beside him and spooning me, his face buried in the crook of my neck.
"You almost killed me," I manage to say, the words slipping out despite the pain in my throat.
"I wouldn't have if you hadn't provoked me," he responds simply.
"I had to; it was the only logical choice," my brain asserts control, overriding my discomfort.
"I'd rather kill you than let you go," his voice muffles against my neck, sending shivers through me.
"W... why?" I ask, a tear slipping down my face.
"I can't say I know. I just want you. I was crazed without you."
"You were already crazy," I retort, eliciting a loud chuckle from him. He tightens his hold around my waist.
"Yes, I am," he agrees. We lie in silence until I feel his steady breathing behind me, signaling that he has fallen asleep.
Waking up the second time, I feel a bit better, even somewhat energetic. Xavier is no longer on the bed, and it's already morning. I get up and head to the bathroom.
I examine my reflection in the mirror—pale, with chapped lips. I take a long, hot bath, which I always enjoy. Afterward, I move to the closet, finding no female clothes. I choose one of his shirts and boxers, knowing he won't mind, as he has personally dressed me in his clothes before.
"Hello," I greet Stella quietly when I see her preparing breakfast in the kitchen.
"Oh, hi, miss. You're awake already. I was planning on getting you once I'm done with breakfast," she says. I give her a small smile and move to sit on the counter, watching her cook.
I have a sudden craving to bake. I recall a recipe I saw on TikTok and decide to give it a try since I have time.
"Can I make something?" I ask. Stella looks at me and nods.
"Let me know if you need anything." I get down and roll up my sleeves, beginning my baking. I mix the batter by hand and put it in the oven. While it bakes, I whip cream, adding caramel gradually, aiming for a cake layered with caramel and topped with strawberries. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.
Stella hands me a plate of breakfast before leaving the kitchen, giving me more space. When the oven dings, I remove the cake, pour milk over it, and place it in the fridge. I cut the strawberries into a decorative shape.
After about 40 minutes, I admire my work, satisfied with the result.
"Wow, did you really make this? It looks amazing. Can I have a taste?" Stella asks, returning to the kitchen. I cut a slice and hand it to her.
"Mmmm, this is delicious," she says, moaning in pleasure. A shiver runs down my spine as I feel his predatory gaze on me. I turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, his usual stoic expression in place.
"Out," he says quietly. Stella leaves the kitchen, and I'm left alone with him.
"Do you want to try it?" I ask timidly, cutting him a slice of cake. He approaches me, standing in front of me with his intense gaze.
He doesn't acknowledge the cake. Instead, his fingers caress my chin before gently gripping my jaw, which surprises me. He leans down and captures my lips with his, the plate sandwiched between us.
He pulls, sucks, and nibbles at my bottom lip, while I stand frozen, shocked by his unexpected gentleness.
"Umm, delicious. You said I should try," he says, pulling away and staring at my lips.
"I... I meant the cake," I stammer, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
"You're my cake," he replies, taking the plate from my hand and dipping a finger into the icing. He drops the plate on the counter and draws me against his body, his arms encircling my waist.
He smears the icing on my lips before capturing them in a passionate kiss. His tongue explores my mouth, sucking and playing with mine, as if he wants to devour me. I moan, my rationality slipping away as I kiss him back.
He groans, increasing the intensity of the kiss, his hands gripping my hips tightly.
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@Daisyheys0 this chapter is dedicated to you❤️
Sorry y'all I have to cut it here
YOU ARE READING
COURTNEY ||18+||
Romance"Open them wider"he instructed,i sob quietly the fear that comes with the thrill of the unknown increasing by the second,i obeyed spreading my legs wider my heart beating so hard clearly wanting to escape my rib cage and end my misery. "Wh...
