His to Save (Mastering Melody Book 3) Page 4

“And now your hair.”

  I let the husky rasp of his voice and his desirous expression take my mind off all the worries which regularly ran through it, moving my hands to my hair to pull out the pins one-by-one. I dropped them to the floor until they were all out and my hair hung around my shoulders.

  He pulled me closer until I stood between his spread legs. Then, his hand found its way between my legs, where all the training I had as a slave meant my body was ready to receive him with little effort, and I couldn’t stop the moan from escaping when he inserted two fingers inside me.

  His touch disappeared, both his hands grabbing my arms as he gripped them tightly, hoisting my body onto his lap as if I weighed nothing.

  Aware of what we were going to do, I spread my legs and bent my knees as he made me straddle his lap, keeping me slightly held up off his legs so his cock rested at the entrance of my pussy.

  My hands slapped down onto his shoulders when he began pushing his cock in and curled the more he stretched me open, my nails digging into his skin. He didn’t seem to mind and kept his gaze locked on mine the whole time, an arrogant smirk on his lips while my own rounded, a soft moan escaping every time he went a little bit deeper.

  He grabbed my hips and rocked my body back and forth, moving his hand to my clit once I took on the rhythm he wanted myself, and his touch almost induced an immediate orgasm.

  That was when he shoved his cock the rest of the way in, holding my body tight against his while my release rolled over me, the walls of my pussy clenching around him as he remained still.

  I noticed it then, how having him in all the way didn’t hurt like the first time, and when he began to lift me up quick only to slowly bring me down again, each stroke leaving him groaning in satisfaction, my nose began to tingle. I tried hard to hold my tears back, closing my eyes to hide from the intense knowingness of his gaze, but it didn’t prevent them from slipping down my cheeks.

  When he started fucking me harder and faster, I knew his own orgasm approached, and in that minute, all rational thought fled. All I understood was that if he wasn’t hitting my cervix like last time, that might mean I was fertile and could get pregnant, and the part of me that didn’t want it decided to fight like hell.

  Without thought of anything, not even the consequences, I opened my eyes and screamed, lifting my hand to slap his face before he saw it coming.

  And when the shock left his face as quick as it arrived, he replaced it with a chuckle while his grip tightened on my hips, a reaction I would’ve been afraid of in my right mind.

  I bucked in his hold, using all my weight to try and free myself, but he must’ve known this would happen. Or guessed there was a chance I wasn’t ready for his plans.

  He shook his head, making a tsk’ing sound, and stood up from the chair. I pounded against his shoulders, screeching and howling while continuing my attempt at freeing myself from his grasp, and sobbed hard enough I gasped for air as he lay me on the bed.

  Keeping my body beneath his, he snatched my hands and held them together by the wrist, using the ties on the bed to immobilize them before flipping me over onto my stomach like the first time.

  Seconds after his body didn’t cover mine anymore, the first smack of his hand landed on my ass with ferocity. This wasn’t like last time — he was furious — and the blows came one after the other, sometimes missing my ass to land on the sensitive skin right where it met my thigh, leaving me crying for an entirely new reason.

  When I stopped moving my legs and attempting to escape his punishment, he kept my legs together while pushing his cock back inside my body, gripping my hips once more while fucking me hard and fast.

  It hurt every time his body brushed against my abused ass with each stroke, tears continuing to stream down my face while the same movement heightened my pleasure all over again.

  Not much time had passed before he grunted, eliciting another orgasm from me along with his own, and slowed down gradually before letting out a contented sigh. Lowering his front to my back, he kept his body immobile, his hands planted on the bed on each side of my head to keep from crushing me.

  It would’ve been better if he had gotten off me, left me to cry, and didn’t let me think he cared about my feelings at all. But of course, he didn’t.

  No. He stayed hovering over me and stroked my hair, making soft shushing sounds, and murmuring comforting words while occasionally kissing the exposed parts of my neck or my shoulders.

  Eventually, he leaned up a bit and whispered in my ear, “I recognize you’re grieving, Melody, and you must for your own health. But do so on your own time, not when you are here with me. Is that understood?”

  My body remained limp underneath him while answering him was clear defiance. “No, because feelings don’t shut off when I enter a room just because you command it.”

  He didn’t reprimand me, leaving me wondering how much longer he would let me get away with not having the attitude he desired as he said, “I understand loss and the way it can make one feel as if they are drowning. However, you belong to me now, and this is your life. You will bear my children and do your duties as a mother.”

  Ignoring him, I whispered, “You could’ve let me go and you still can. I wouldn’t say anything, but this isn’t the life for me. I never wanted it forever.”

  My eyes slammed shut at the feeling of his cock hardening inside me again as his punishing grip returned to my hips, and I braced for the eventual torturous thrusts of him inside my sensitive pussy.

  “Your decisions led you here, Melody, and here you will stay.”

  He stretched above me as the soft sobs restarted and opened my eyes right as he grabbed two pillows. He released his grasp on one hip, elevating my midsection to put the pillows under my body, and then pushed my body on top of them.

  I moaned, pissed that he clearly researched how to increase the chances of conception, and clutched the comforter in my fists as he began fucking me a second time.

  And, just like last time, it ended up being a long night, except this time I screamed a lot less due to his increased gentleness.

  After all, he wouldn’t want to harm the woman who was now his broodmare.

  One fucking attempt.

  One!

  And, just like that, I carried his child inside my body all while not knowing how to feel about it a mere six weeks after arriving.

  My body wasn’t happy, though, as getting sick in the mornings started my days off shitty. However, at least it didn’t last morning to evening this time.

  Because I’d become acquainted rather well with my body in this time, as well as two prior pregnancies, I knew the truth before being made to take a test for certain.

  Later that night, after spending a few moments alone with a delighted Marius, who wished to ‘celebrate the good news’ with a surprisingly sweet session of sex, I climbed into bed, curled into a ball while clutching my stomach, and finally truly grieved as I should’ve months ago.

  Because after all this time without a word from Marius’ friend about Rohan or Tiaan’s whereabouts, I couldn’t believe they remained alive any longer. Cruel, vindictive Frans no doubt killed them yet told me he kept them alive only to torture me with not having them.

  And in truth, I hoped they were dead because then at least I knew they wouldn’t be in any pain or suffering. It killed me with not being able to hold my son or sleep next to Rohan, but no amount of selfish desire to have them in my life could compare to making sure they didn’t live in torment under Frans’ rule.

  As for me, I had this child to consider now. Another baby. Whether boy or girl, I was to become a mother again, and that meant the baby came first no matter how conflicted my emotions were.

  So, I cried for my lost baby, for Rohan and for the life I no longer controlled no matter how hard I wished to. I wept until there weren’t any more tears inside of me, until what felt like a gaping hole in my chest lessened to an ache, and then I did what I had been good at from the beginning with al
l of this.

  I moved on determined to make what I could of an untenable situation.

  7

  “Melody, you shouldn’t be carrying that!” Layla clucked her tongue, rushing up beside me to take the heavy basket from my arms and dropped her gaze to my rounded stomach as she shook her head. “I know you were told to not lift anything at this stage.”

  “I’m bored,” I said with a shrug, sighing when she merely glared at me briefly before switching to her brilliant, happy smile. “I have nothing to do.”

  “Rest. You are close to giving birth any day now, and although you should walk some, I haven’t seen you sit down for longer than two minutes today. Go.”

  “But—”

  She shook her head and pointed toward the living area. “No. You need to rest because you look exhausted, and until the baby arrives, there isn’t anything we can do to help out except make sure you are well rested. Go on. I will wake you for dinner.”

  I did because she walked away without another word and sat on the sofa with an unhappy sigh. Months and months of this behavior — coddling me, slowly lessening the work I did daily — had left me feeling useless as well as annoyed.

  Sure, in theory being able to sit around and do nothing while everyone else took care of everything sounded nice, but it wasn’t. No, it fucking sucked, and I hated being treated differently just because of being pregnant with the Master’s child.

  Also having a huge swollen belly that meant I hadn’t seen my feet except when sitting down for a couple months now along with increased hunger and the more frequent trips to the bathroom. The only plus was having nausea hadn’t lasted long and for that I was grateful.

  But everything else? No. I looked forward to having the baby so the women could fawn over it and I could go back to doing something more than sitting around. Chances are they wouldn’t let me do that either, and I feared I would go mad sitting around even longer than I already had.

  However, Layla wasn’t wrong, because as I sat on the couch, my eyes grew heavy and soon, I laid down on the sofa and passed out.

  Later that evening, I sat on the bed in Marius’ room with him beside me, his hand resting on the top of my stomach.

  After confirming my pregnancy, he spent a little more time with me, and sex always happened until about a month ago.

  Since then he invited me to his room so he could murmur things against my stomach in a language I couldn’t understand, and when I asked him what it was, he refused to tell me. He enjoyed the kicks and the movement, the light in his eyes telling me he would love this child as a father should, even though I worried about what would happen as the child grew.

  I didn’t want my kids involved in such a business as this but also knew that was likely, and I had no say in the matter.

  I learned the baby would stay in my room with me while young, but eventually would move to the area turned into a nursery when I became pregnant again, and the other women would help with caring as well as raising them.

  When I asked how quick he would get me pregnant again, he merely smiled and said, “When it is decided it would be a good time.”

  An answer that told me nothing and left my body and pregnancies at his whim, obviously. The fact this pregnancy had gone perfectly didn’t help because smooth sailing meant my body could handle it well. I didn’t know much about it overall, but I was certain some time should be spent recovering and bonding with the baby before getting carrying another child.

  I wanted to hate him, to despise him for rescuing me only to keep me for himself, yet I didn’t no matter how hard I tried. It was hard to hate a man who cared about suffering enough to save those other women from torturous fates and brought them into his home, making sure they had everything they needed and wanted. And when he caressed my stomach as if the child inside me were the most precious gift he ever received, that made it impossible.

  Tonight, especially, because it marked forty weeks and the baby could come at any time, and Marius was more attentive than ever.

  “Are you comfortable?” He kept one hand on my stomach while drinking water from a glass and when I nodded, he turned to place it on the stand beside the bed before looking back at me. “No pains or anything yet?”

  “No. If I feel anything, I will be certain to say something.”

  “Good.”

  We fell into silence as the baby kicked again and when he chuckled, I peeked at him from under lowered lashes, licking my lips before deciding to try to find something out about this man I was now connected forever with.

  “I wish you would tell me something about you,” I finally murmured, staring down nervously at my stomach and hoping he wouldn’t reject my innocent inquiry. “Like your age maybe.”

  “Such a simple thing would make you happy?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s possible for me to be happy seeing as how I don’t want to be here.” When he sighed, I shrugged and muttered, “You don’t get it.”

  “You are partially correct. I have never experienced being in the position you’re in, but it doesn’t mean I have never been in situations I didn’t like.” He reached over and gripped my chin, turning my face so I had to look at his flattened lips and angry gaze. “Here you are fed, clothed, and kept out of harm’s way, yet you ache to go back to a life of prostitution and homelessness? You think with your heart and not with your head. Your freedom outside of this house wouldn’t be better — perhaps even worse than before — and you are a fool if you believe otherwise.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and my lower lip wobbled, upset to have opened my mouth in the first place. “I’m not—”

  “Yes, you are,” he insisted, tightening his hold on my chin and shaking his head as he interrupted. “It is the thinking of a child to believe everything will be better if you simply get what you want because what you already have isn’t what you desire. You are not abused, mistreated, or shared with anyone else in my household. Not even in your prior circumstances could you say such a thing, nor in your life on the streets. Why do you consider that life such a better one than here?”

  “Because I had my freedom.” I whispered my response, my entire body tense and ready to flee at any moment. “I had the right to decide my own life.”

  “Did you?” His laugh was disbelieving and his reply filled with scorn. “Freedom is an illusion, Melody. It is a lie told to those who are eager to believe their life has a purpose, so they will work and make money and spend money and have families who will do the same, all within societal constructs. They are all slaves to the system where they must please their boss or the customers they rely on to spend money so paychecks are received. But people are not free because the definition of freedom is one who has no restrictions and society is filled with limitations on one what can and cannot do, is it not?”

  “Yes, but you can make your own choices.”

  Cocking a brow, he let go of my chin and asked, “Can you? So you became a prostitute and lived on the streets due to nothing more than choosing it and wanting that life as your own? Nothing led to that being the way you had to live your life?”

  When I didn’t answer, because I could see his point even if I couldn’t formulate a response that moment, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest while still gazing at me with a serious expression.

  “Here you have the autonomy I give you and, in that freedom, you get to make choices. And yes, they are limited in some ways, but not without good reason. The only ones you aren’t allowed to make are those I refuse to let you have. Life here is much like the world outside, yet without worrying about how you will feed or clothe yourself tomorrow. However, your romanticizing of freedom outside these walls means you’ll remain unable to see the magnificence of the life I’ve given you here and will only hurt yourself because of it.”

  He left the bed then, keeping his back to me as he walked across the room and stood at the window without looking at me.

  I should’ve kept the disbelief to myself, but his last statem
ent just astonished me, but it also surprised me that he let me speak to him this way when he didn’t stop me from spouting off at the mouth to him.

  “Magnificence? What I can watch on TV is controlled like a parent would for a child. There is no internet, no phone, no connection to the outside world at all. I haven’t known where I’m at in over two years now. Except for the small outside space that is like inside but without the roof, going outside isn’t allowed nor is going places such as the store. The only people I can speak to is the other ladies, and our entire lives revolve around waiting for you to fuck us. You don’t do anything except that. There is nothing fucking magnificent about any of that!”

  My voice had gone to near yelling level by the end, but he merely stood there with a bemused smile on his face when he finally glanced my way and asked, “Anything else you would like to add to your list of complaints?”

  Well, if he was going to ask…

  “Yes!” Stabbing a finger in the direction of the hallway, I hissed at him, “Those ladies might be grateful you rescued them from their hellish lives, but I’m not any longer. I might’ve lost Rohan and Tiaan, and Frans might’ve been a monster, but at least there wasn’t any question of where slaves stood in his life. You treat us like a gaggle of housewives whom you spoil only in ways it suits you and you may not beat us, but if you think you deserve the love of any of them or me because of that, you’re fooling yourself, since love has nothing to do with how much you fuck someone.”

  At that, both of his eyebrows rose, and the scowl returned to his face. “I don’t proclaim to love them, and if they love me, that is their choice.”

  “No, it’s not.” I moved my legs to the edge and slipped off the bed, walking over to the door while trying to keep the unshed tears from gliding down my anger reddened cheeks before turning to face him again. “It’s not a choice when you’re the only fucking option.”

  “Ah.” He chuckled and walked toward me, trapping me against the door with a hand on each side of my head and staring down at me with an amused gaze and curved lips. “What do you propose I do then? Allow other men into my home so there is a variety available to the women who serve me?”