Page 11 of The Bad Man
MIA
I stare at Jamison in utter shock, and all I can do is open my mouth and then close it. No words can come out, and for a moment, I’m unnerved. That’s when I realize I’m alone with a man that so many people have labeled as dangerous. Not only that: if I don’t return after my lunch hour, I’m somewhere in the facility that I won’t likely be found for a long while.
Almost as soon as the concern for myself bubbles up, it changes to concern for Jamison. In the blink of an eye, I forget about my own safety and wonder why someone hasn’t protected him. The abuse that marks his skin is so much bigger than my own fear.
Despite my love for order and rules, I find myself drawn into his chaos. If I'm honest with myself, I'm addicted to it. I was never prepared for what would come next between us, but it certainly wasn’t this.
“Are you scared of me now, Mia?” Jamison tilts his head to the side, watching me. He is always watching.
“Who did this to you?” I ask as I step closer. The need to touch him is overwhelming.
“You didn’t answer the question.” Jamison closes the rest of the space between us, and as gently as I can, I place my hands on his bare chest. His eyes close for a brief moment as he sucks in a breath. “Answer the question, angel.”
“Yes,” I admit. When he looks at me, I can’t tell if he expected the answer. Does he want me to fear him? “But not for the reason you think.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m not afraid you’ll physically hurt me.” I know that’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever said, but I'm gradually accepting this reality. I'm more concerned about his ability to manipulate me into doing things without giving them much thought.
“Are you sure about that?” He steps back, making my hands fall away from his chest.
My feet stay grounded, and I will myself not to chase after him. It’s kind of pathetic, really. I’m always seeking his attention or finding a moment when we can be alone. Our time together is fleeting and leaves me wanting so much more.
“Strip.” He gives the order before walking over to the wooden contraption against the wall.
It has some sort of restraints attached to it, and I can’t figure out the purpose of the device. Surely it’s not a medical instrument because it looks like someone built it for their own use.
Jamison rests his hand on the wood frame, waiting to see what I might do. Is this some kind of test? The need to pass makes me slip my shoes off, and I don't miss the slight smile he quickly hides. Something tells me that if I ask him what this is, he won’t answer. Or maybe I’m not ready for it.
“This is new for me,” I admit when I pull my top off and decide to expose myself in more ways than one. But after seeing all those bruises on Jamison, I believe he's the one who's more vulnerable. If I do this, maybe he’ll trust me and show me more.
“Keep going.” His hold on the wooden contraption tightens, and I can hear the slight groan of the wood. Now it’s me who’s fighting to hide a smile.
He wants me, and right now, that’s all that matters.
Next I remove my scrub pants and kick them away. When I’m standing there in only a bra and panties, I’m not sure what to do with my hands. My underwear isn’t anything fancy, but at least it matches. Jamison licks his lips as he stares at the simple, soft blue cotton. No one has ever looked at me the way he does. There’s so much in his eyes that I can’t believe it’s only about sex.
“Come here,” he orders, and I walk over to him. My mind is spinning, and I’m wondering what he might tell me to do next. What if it’s too much for me? Hell, what if it’s too much for anyone? Even with all those doubts, my feet keep moving until I’m in front of him. His hand comes up to grip my chin, and his eyes meet mine. “Are you ready to fall, angel?”
“Is that what you want?” I ask him.
Jamison rubs his thumb across my bottom lip, and I slide my tongue out to taste it. “I don’t think you can handle what I want.”
Something stirs in my belly, and I take that as a challenge. There’s a need to give him everything, and maybe it’s because I get the feeling that no one else has. I assumed that life would be difficult for someone spending time in the system, but Jamison has spent years trapped here. There’s no warmth in these walls, and he knows it.
When I part my lips, Jamison pushes his thumb inside. I wrap my lips around it, hollowing out my cheeks, and suck. My tongue slides back and forth, and I see something dark flash in his eyes. He abruptly jerks his thumb out and turns away. His breathing is heavy in the quiet room, and I don’t know what I did wrong.
“Jamison?”
“Don’t say my name,” he snaps, and his shoulders tense. I can tell he’s fighting an inner battle, and I wish he would talk to me. I want to understand, but I don’t know how to get closer to him.
“Tell me what I did wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you down here,” he snaps before turning around and trying to brush past me.
“Wait.” I grab his hand to stop him because I can’t let this end this way. Every day when I lie down in bed, he’s all I can think about. Then, when I do sleep, he’s all I dream of. “Are you scared of me?” Being close to people is scary. They are so easy to lose, and once they’re gone, you're left all alone.
A humorless chuckle leaves him. “Oh angel.” He shakes his head. “I want to do terrible things to you.” Then suddenly he’s gripping my chin again. “Things that are wrong.”