Chapter 45: The Lunatics
Vivienne was still tied up to André’s bedpost like some cheap sacrifice waiting for a drunk god. Her arms were stretched above her head, wrists bound in silk, and her back pressed against his sheets. The sunlight from the noon window poured onto her naked body, which only made it worse. No shadows to hide in. Just pure, humiliating brightness.
Her brain screamed at her: Scream, Vivienne. Shout. Kick. Do something. You’re about to get fucked while being tied up, and this idiot will make it slow. Stop this before it gets worse. Say something. Pretend you’re sick. Pretend you’re dying. He’ll believe it. He’ll leave you alone.
But nothing came out of her mouth. Her lips were sealed shut. And the longer she stayed quiet, the worse it felt.
God, this is so embarrassing. Look at me. Naked, tied, spread out like I’m begging. There’s no dignity left. I am a dead woman. I should have become a nun. At least then I’d die clean. Now I’m going to die moaning under this lunatic.
André, of course, noticed everything. The man could smell hesitation like a wolf sniffing out fear. Even though Vivienne tried to keep her face still, he saw it. He saw her biting her lips too hard, trying not to say the truth.
He leaned close, his hand gentle as it cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek like she was made of glass. His voice dropped, soft, broken, almost like he was begging her not to abandon him.
"Why are you saying nothing, Vivienne? Do you not like this?"
He looked like a saint asking for forgiveness. His tone was sad, wounded, pitiful.
Vivienne stared at him, blinking fast. Out loud she said, "It’s not that... I’m just nervous. And excited."
Inside her skull, her thoughts were knives. Of course I don’t like this, you fucking idiot. I don’t like you. I don’t like your stupid handsome face. I don’t like your dramatic voice. I fucking hate you. I hate your entire existence. I wish you the worst death imaginable. I wish you choke on your own orgasm. I hope you die from coming. That would make me happy.
André didn’t know the curses living in her head. All he saw was her shy act, her nervous lips, her trembling voice. His heart bloomed with joy. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a soft embrace. He pressed a kiss to her forehead like she was his holy relic.
"Don’t worry, Vivienne. I will never hurt you. Never. You are too precious to me. I love you."
His words dripped like honey. His tone was solid, convincing. To anyone else, it would sound like truth.
But inside, his own thoughts were laughing. What a little liar you are, Vivienne. Do you really think you can fool me? I know exactly who you are. A thief. A liar. A rat wrapped in silk. And yet you smile and whisper back like a perfect actress. But keep acting. It only makes it more fun.
Vivienne whispered, "I love you too."
She thought, I love you too, my ass. I’d rather marry a pig than you. But if that’s what you want to hear, fine. I love you. I love you so much I want to stab you in your sleep.
André kissed her forehead again, then her cheek, then her lips, moving slower and slower, like each kiss was a prayer. Then he went lower, kissing her throat, her chest, the swell of her breasts. His lips trailed like worship, each touch dragging fire over her skin.
Vivienne melted in spite of herself.
Her body betrayed her.
She hated him for it.
Oh for fuck’s sake, Vivienne. Stop melting. Stop moaning. He’s kissing you like you’re some goddess. You’re not a goddess, you’re a prisoner. Don’t let him win. God, this teasing is hell. Enough with the I-love-you crap. Shut the fuck up, you bastard. Stop kissing me like a relic and just fuck me already. Take off your goddamn clothes. You’ve already destroyed my dignity. Stop dragging this shit out!
André’s eyes flicked up to her face. He saw her clenched jaw, her annoyed brows. He knew. He knew she hated it. And the knowledge only made him smile wider.
He kissed her chest, her breasts, soft and slow. His lips traveled down her stomach, pressing against her burning skin, until he reached her thighs. He kissed them too, first one, then the other, gentle as if they were jewels.
Vivienne trembled. Her skin burned hotter with every kiss.
Why are you trembling, you idiot? He didn’t even tie your legs. Kick him. Kick his fucking head. Kick his stupid face into the wall. Do something, Vivienne. Don’t just lie here melting like butter. Fight back!
But before her legs could obey, his fingers slid inside her.
Vivienne’s eyes shot open. Oh God, not again. Not again. He’s doing this on purpose. He wants me to lose my mind. This isn’t love. This isn’t passion. This is punishment. He’s punishing me like a cat torturing a mouse. This bastard is insane.
Her lips, however, betrayed her. Soft moans escaped without permission.
Her back arched against the sheets, her wrists pulling helplessly at the silk.
André moved his fingers slowly, deliberately, savoring her useless resistance. He bent down to kiss her ankle, his mouth hot against her skin.
Her body wanted more.
André knew it.
He slid in another finger.
Harder. Faster. Deeper.
Vivienne’s moans grew louder. Her body shook, traitorous and weak.
God damn it, stop moaning! Stop sounding like you’re enjoying this. This isn’t enjoyment. This is torture. He’s going to keep doing this all day. He’s going to ruin me. I hate him. I hate him. Oh God, oh God, I—
Her thought ended in a cry as pleasure rushed through her. She came undone against his fingers, her body clenching, her voice broken and breathless.
When she collapsed back against the bed, she was panting hard, sweat dripping from her temple, her chest rising and falling in frantic waves.
André watched her with glowing eyes. He pulled his fingers out slowly, savoring every second. Then, without shame, he licked them clean.
His smile spread like a devil’s. This is only the beginning, little thief.
Vivienne stared at him, her body still trembling, her mind in ruins.
He’s insane. Absolutely insane. He’s not human. He’s completely crazy. And worse—so am I, because I keep letting him do it.