Stealing Cinderella(50)
“P-p-please, no.” I shake my head, frantic.
She tells me this is the only way to cure me before she turns me around and shoves me over the desk. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and pain splinters the length of my spine as she shoves the broom handle inside me. I retch again, but nothing comes up this time.
She twists the handle and then pulls it back out, lashing me across my back. The thunderous crack echoes off the walls, and my vision blurs as I sway to the left. Before I can fall, she shoves me back onto the chair and climbs on top of me, forcing my head back as she lifts her skirt. My head collapses back against the chair, and she forces me inside of her.
“That’s good,” she praises as I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for it to be over. “You like this very much, Thorsen.”
“Ella.” I scoop her limp body into my arms and brush my fingers over her face. “Wake up, min gudinne.”
She stirs, confused, and then terrified as she glances down at her arm. When I wipe the red wax away, she crumples into herself, breaking down into full-body sobs. I did this to her. I’m an emotional terrorist, and I think I just fucking broke her.
I drag her up against my chest and sweep the hair away from her face, kissing the tears on her cheeks as I try to find the words to comfort her.
“It’s just wax.” My voice is rough and raw. “Just wax, Ella. You’re okay.”
But I know she isn’t okay. I didn’t really burn her, but she thought I was. I knew exactly what I was doing when I manipulated her fears in my moment of weakness. All because I was too much of a coward to admit she fucking terrifies me. I wanted to punish her for making me feel this way. She was just supposed to be a toy. Someone to use and control and release the pressure at a boiling point inside me. But Ella is fucking everything up. The way she looks at me, touches me, and even worse… the fact that she refuses to hate me no matter what I do to her. It’s all too much.
I want to tell her she should go. Things are already confusing between us, and time will only complicate matters. But the thought of her walking out now isn’t something I can accept. She promised me two months. When they’re up, I have to leave her. I have to do the only thing that’s ever made sense.
“It isn’t okay.” Ella shakes her head against me, even as she clings to my suit. “You terrify me, Thorsen. You are so fucking broken, and I don’t know if I can survive you.”
“I know.” My eyes fall shut, and my grip on her tightens. “And I can’t promise that you will.”
Her body shakes as she continues to cry, and at some point, I realize that I’m rubbing her arm. It feels at odds with all the unwritten rules I have about women, but even as I consider that, I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
“There needs to be some kind of boundary,” she says finally, her voice weak, but resolved. “If I tell you something is too much, then you need to accept that. Don’t push me past my breaking point again, Thorsen.”
I want to promise her I won’t, but I know myself better than that. Whatever this thing is between us, it’s too volatile for my own good. She sets me off in a way nobody else ever has. My emotions are amplified to the point of being so intense I can’t deal with them. For twenty years, I have only known numbness, but I fear that Ella is bringing me back to life.
“I need to have control.” My lips brush against the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “It’s the only way.”
“So have your control,” she whispers against me. “But don’t provoke my fears because you’re upset.”
My fingers blaze a path over the lines of her face, and she’s so soft, it surprises me that she can be hard too. It isn’t common for women to challenge me this way, and it makes me question everything about Ella’s motives.
“Is it really worth it?”
“What?” She blinks up at me.
“The money.” My voice feels brittle. “Is it worth two months in hell with me?”
She frowns, and she’s quiet for so long, it only compounds my frustration. I don’t like her silence. I want her thoughts. I want them all in their rawest, most unfiltered form.
“I want you to save the sanctuary.” She toys with the hemline of my suit. “That’s all I’ve wanted for months. But I don’t want to think of our arrangement that way either. I don’t just want you to see me as the person you’re paying to be here. Because that isn’t how I think of you.”
Her words settle over us, heavy with too many landmines to navigate.
“It must be so exhausting to feel everything so deeply,” I mutter.
“It’s my curse.” She rests her head against my shoulder with a familiarity that makes me nervous. “But I know you feel things too, Thorsen. Even if you can’t admit it.”
“We aren’t talking about me.”
“Why do you do it?” she pushes. “Why do you want everyone to think you’re so heartless? I know that isn’t true.”
“You don’t know anything,” I bite out.
“I know there’s a lot more to you than people give you credit for. I saw your schedule. All the work you do for charities and your country. You are capable of doing good, and you do good every week, you just don’t want people to know it.”