Not Enough, Never Enough

Chapter 8

TW: knife play, brief mention of sexual assault

I woke with a start, fuck those nightmares didn't get any easier. I reach over to turn on the lamp and nearly screamed, Damian sat in a chair facing the bed, watching me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded. After Danny had 'relieved my stress', I'd ran and hid in the bathroom, washing my shame away in the shower. I really needed to get better at refusing their advances. When I'd finally re-entered the room Danny was gone and thankfully I didn't see anyone else for the rest of the day, until now apparently.

"You were having a nightmare." The clock on the bedside table read two thirty am. His eyes were less feral today, a calm, stormy grey which was somehow even more unsettling.

"So?"

"What was it about?"

"You." I lied and he just smirked. In the next second, he was in the bed with me, hovering over me as I tried to press myself further into the mattress to get away from him. He pressed his face to mine, licking the seam of my mouth, but I refused to open for him. I was not doing this again. He smelled like pure male, a musk that was all whiskey and leather and metal.

"There's nothing sweeter than a lie." He held both of my hands together with one of his above my head. When had he done that? How had I got myself into yet another compromising position with one of these men? "If you had been dreaming of me, you would've woken up hot, and panting but it wouldn't be out of fear. No, it would be for an entirely different reason. And your panties would be drenched. Shall we check?" His other hand snaked its way between us, I struggled against his grip.

"Get off me." The hand between us gripped my hip hard to keep me in place.

"Tell me what your nightmare was about."

"Fuck you."

"Oh I want to." He leaned down so his lips brushed my ear, "And I know you want it too. Just tell me about your nightmare." He licked the shell of my ear, making me shiver involuntarily, and then his tongue continued down. Licking a long line down my neck and then over my collarbones "Was it the story behind this pretty scar Danny was telling us about?" His tongue moved over my scar in maddening ways that had me arching up into him. "Come on baby girl, tell me." His hands came up and removed the bandage from where he had bitten me. When the wound was revealed he groaned, low and gravelly, it was a sound so primal and it had heat flooding between my thighs. "I really marked you up good didn't I?" Then his tongue was moving over the barely scabbed bite marks, making me jerk in both pain and pleasure. "Do you like being marked? Claimed?"

"No."

"Why you gotta make things so difficult baby? Just admit you want me."

"Fine." Because there was no point lying to these kinds of men. "I want you. But I'm trying to create a boundary between me and the guys who have taken me prisoner."

"Fuck boundaries. Why can't you fuck the guys who have taken you as their own."

"Because it's not right."

"Why?"

"Because you're bad people."

"The worst." He agreed, with a sardonic grin.

"It's wrong." He flexed his hips, grinding his hardness harshly against my thin panties. We both groaned.

"I disagree. But if you want it to feel wrong, I can make it feel wrong baby girl." One of his hands disappeared from view, as he claims my mouth with his, distracting me. And I was distracted until I feel the cool bite of sharp metal on my outer thigh. "James lied last night." He drags the knife across my thigh and then traces it along the edge of my panties. "I may cut you." He increased the pressure slightly and my breath hitched. "If you ask me nicely."

"Why would I ask you to cut me?" My voice was barely audible.

"Because you're a good little prisoner." I was trembling, partly out of fear partly out anticipation and sick curiosity. Judging by the damn smirk on his face he knew, he knew I was thinking about letting him. His knife easily cut through my thin cotton panties and then he pressed the flat of the knife against my pussy. "And you'll like it." He started to tilt the knife, so the pressure was all on my clit. I wanted to move. To squirm or jerk or move in any of the normal ways you did when someone was working you up to an orgasm. But I couldn't. One wrong move and I'd be cut. Why was that slice of fear so delicious? Why did heat flood between my thighs? Damian leant down to graze his mouth over the bite mark on my neck again, and this time I did jerk, the knife cutting into the fleshy skin of my mound.

I gasped at the small pain and he sat back on his heels, assessing the damage, grinning as he saw the trickle of blood. My eyes zeroed in on the blood too and they didn't see a small superficial cut. They didn't see Damian. They saw a different man, hands coated in blood as he forced my thighs apart, my hands shaking, weak, unable to push him. Damian started to drag the knife across my thigh and I jerked away, my survival instincts finally kicking in and anxiety replacing my arousal. I was not about to get stabbed again.

"RED!" I screamed, frozen in fear. And he jerked back immediately, dropping the knife on the bed. Wow, I can't believe that worked. With Damian of all people. The feral one. The one that clearly relished in my pain. Was actually respecting a safe word I had briefly mentioned nearly forty-eight hours ago when we hadn't exactly gone over boundaries in this encounter. But he was. He sat back so he no longer touched any part of my body and surveyed me with concerned eyes.

He let me scoot back until I was sat, pressed against the headboard, pulling the sheets up to my neck. I closed my eyes, pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes until I saw stars, and trying to get my breathing under control. I felt the bed dip as he moved off the bed and heard a door open as he presumably left. I breathed a small sigh of relief even as my throat burned with the tears of being abandoned when I was in such a vulnerable state.

Which is why I lurched away when I felt a hand gently encircle my wrist. Damian stood there, a fresh pair of panties and wash cloth in one hand and glass of water in the other.

"Isn't this the part where you leave me alone?"

"No. This is the part where I take care of you, make sure your alright, and then we discuss why you needed to use your safe-word." I wasn't exactly sure when I had entered into the dom-sub dynamic with my captor, but I guess here we are. He crawled back on the bed and I let him. Let him pull the sheets away. Because my raging abandonment issues were screaming in relief that he hadn't left and I was about to cry with the gentleness he was taking care of me with. He wiped the blood away and pulled the clean panties up my legs, securing them onto me. Then he laid back on the other side of the bed and I rolled over to curl up into his side.

I guess, this was where we discussed my use of the safe-word? But he wasn't initiateng any conversation. In fact, his breathing had evened out. Was he asleep? The door creaked open and some poked their head in.

"Everything okay in here?" Danny. He probably heard me scream the safe-word. I didn't answer, expecting Damian to, but he just gently nudged me.

"That question is aimed at you." Oh.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine now."

"Now?" Danny pushed, joining us on the bed. He lay beside me on his side, one arm propping his head up and the other gently running up and down my arm.

"I pushed the knife-play a little far."

"Knife-play? For fucks sake Dami-"

"It's fine." I interrupted, "I...don't think I like being cut." I admitted. He pulled back a fraction to look me in the eye but I avoided his eye contract as I continued, "But I don't mind the knife."

"Noted." Damian said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Now let's sleep." Danny said, settling down next to me. And I did. I slept soundly. I between two of my captors.