Hold Me Never (Holding Never) (22 page)

As my orgasm subsides, he slides his fingers into the
hole where his tongue has just been. Licking his fingers, he gazes
at me with hooded eyes and murmurs, “Exquisite. You taste so
sweet, Zoey. Like honey.”

I blink up at him, my mind yet unable to surface from
that wave of pleasure. He begins to strip off his uniform, undoing
his buttons with one hand and shrugging off his shirt cleanly. His
movements are purposeful, sharp. He doesn't waste time with
superfluous gestures. I watch his muscles ripple as he moves to
sheath his erection in a fresh condom.

I have seen him before, felt him deep inside me, but
still I marvel at the sheer size of him. His manhood is as proud and
impressive as the man himself. Hard, unyielding, demanding, hungry,
pulsating with rage and lust.

His eyes flash as he thunders towards me. With a
squeal, I scramble backwards. He is upon me in a heartbeat, flipping
me over onto my belly and grabbing my breast in his large hand.

I arch my back as he hauls my hips up so that I am on my
knees. Moving between my legs, he holds me in position and pauses.
His hands caress my butt cheeks, moving forward to rub my sensitive
clit and stroke my pussy lips. Feeling my juices flowing, he inhales
sharply and pierces me in one vicious stroke. When I whimper, he
freezes, going completely still inside me. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head, pushing myself up slowly.

He waits, whispering my name. “Zoey,” he
sighs, and begins to slide out of me.

“
Jaxon...” I protest, twisting round.

But he is not leaving me like that, hanging, wanting.
He slides his cock all the way out, leaving just the tip at my
opening, before pushing into me again. I moan, feeling and loving
every huge inch of him. “You feel so good, so big,” I
groan, closing my eyes.

“
And you are so damned tight!”

His fingers dig into my hips as he slams his full length
into me. The sound of our flesh slapping together reverberates round
the bedroom. He fucks me hard from behind, pounding forcefully into
my body. He maintains that frenzied pace, not stopping, not slowing
down. Just when I think he is going to come, he stops thrusting and
starts to move his hips in slow circles instead. I moan in pleasure,
feeling his cock stir round my pussy, stroking against my walls. “Oh
Jaxon,” I pant. “Mmm.”

“
Baby, touch yourself,” he tells me harshly.

I move one hand down my body, past my swaying breasts,
grazing my nipples with my palm. I find my clit and move my finger
against it tentatively. The friction makes me cry out, and Jaxon
takes up the cue and resumes pounding me. He hammers his cock
relentlessly into me, his hands on my waist, as I close my eyes and
increase the pressure of my aching clit. The pleasure builds until I
orgasm again, my walls clenching him rhythmically.

Jaxon leans over me, and kisses my back and shoulders.
I angle my face to the side, and he takes my mouth. He is still
buried inside me, hard and throbbing.

He turns me over and lowers me to the bed on my back.
“Zoey...” he murmurs as he slides into me again. “I
could do this to you all night.”

He cradles my face between his arms and stares into my
eyes as he slides slowly in and out of my body. His movements are
loving and tender this time, and when I look down our bodies to where
we are joined, my breath catches. The sight is so beautiful, so
erotic and so right. We move against each other with a natural
rhythm, fitting together like we're meant for each other. It just
feels so perfect.

He grasps me tighter against him and rocks into me, his
chin touching my forehead. I gasp as his lean, hard body presses
against me, moving in short, quick bursts of power. My nipples rub
against his solid chest, and his crotch moves against my clit as he
thrusts into my body. My breathing quickens, and my heart feels like
it is about to explode. His name escapes on a scream, as we climax
together, clinging to each other, drowning in each other for the
longest time.

Jaxon kisses my eyelids and the tip of my nose tenderly,
and plants a soft, lingering kiss on my lips.

I reach up to cup his face and he nuzzles into my palm,
turning to kiss it. “Zoey,” he starts. “I
have...”

A sharp electronic beep sounds from the side table.

With a curse, Jaxon reaches out to snatch his flat,
squarish wristwatch off the side table. As he reads the message
flashing across the small screen, his entire demeanor changes.

All his muscles tense, his veins throbbing on his temple
and neck. His nostrils flare, as his breathing becomes harsh.

His eyelids flip shut for an instant.

“
It has begun,” he says under his breath.

He turns to me. “Zoey, I have to go. I
must...leave now. The...”

I don't want to hear the rest of his words. I am
already on my feet, scrambling for my clothes.

“
Zoey...” I hear his aching voice and see
him reach for me, but I twist away.

“
Go,” I say. My voice comes out harsher
than I intended. Which I guess is good. At least he can't hear it
trembling and breaking. “You said you have to go. So go.
Leave.”
Leave me
.

All this time I had known that this cannot last. We
cannot last. I knew that he would leave. And I knew that he would
leave soon. Soon has become now.

And now, this very moment is unbearable.

I snatch my crumpled clothes off the floor and secure
the cloths haphazardly and hurriedly over my body. Kicking up my
chin, splintering into a million fragments inside, I stand in front
of him, my scanty attire firmly in place on my body, which is still
throbbing and burning from his touch.

He stands and drags his pants up over his long, muscular
legs. In two strides he closes the distance between us and pulls me
into his arms.

I pound my fists into his bare chest, his scent, his
presence, his heat invading all my senses. Mercilessly, I punch him,
my blows hurting him not at all. At least not physically.

“
Why?” I cry, as I smash my fist over his
heart. “Why, Jaxon?”

I hate you!

He raises his hand to stroke my hair, and I see the
screen on his watch flashing urgently. The angry beep sounds at
regular intervals, but Jaxon ignores it. But he is just delaying the
inevitable. He can only ignore it for so long. In the end, he will
still have to leave.

And it will be even more unbearable then.

The longer he holds me, the more it will hurt when he
finally lets me go.

“
Let me go now,” I say, lifting my head.

He takes a ragged breath as he looks at me, his eyes
moving from my face to our joined hands. I lace my fingers tighter
through his and tug him towards the door, towards the lift.

“
No.”

I force out a smile. “Walk with me.”
One
last time.

“
Zoey, I promise you...”

“
Don't!” I press my fingers over his lips
and look away sharply. “Don't, Jaxon, just don't...don't
promise me anything!”

You will be leaving tonight.

I will be dancing for the Emperor tomorrow night.

There can be no promises between us.

“
We both have to leave,” is all I say
instead. “Please, Jaxon, just...walk with me. That's all I
want.”

I turn and walk out the door. When the lift door opens,
I step into it and wait. He cannot refuse me my last request.

He walks into the lift with me and takes my hand. We
stand side by side, hand in hand, facing the door, staring at our
blurry reflections.

In front of my cell door, we stand in the same position,
our eyes staring straight ahead, our fingers tightly clasped
together, each refusing to let go.

Finally, I squeeze my eyes shut and wrench my hand out
of his. I turn and grab his massive shoulders, pulling myself up to
give him a farewell kiss. His arms circle my waist as he kisses me
long and hard. My hands fumble behind me to punch the button.

With a hiss, my cell door slides open and I pull away
from Jaxon.

I back into my cell, my eyes holding his, memorizing his
image.

“
I. Will. Come. Back,” he says, just
before the door seals. “I love you.”

I gasp and rush to the door, my fists sliding down the
cold metal. What did he say? What did he just say?

No. No!

I punch the door. “Bastard,” I whisper.
“You bastard! I hate you.”

Why did he have to say that?

I will come back.

For what?

For my corpse?

I should have told him. I should have told him that
tomorrow, I dance for the Emperor and Empress.

And tonight, is our last night together.

That is all I wanted. One. Last. Night.

Nothing more. I was prepared for it. There can be no
promises.

But this—I was not prepared for this!

Why did he have to say those last three words to me?
Why did he have to make me not want to die? Why did he have to give
me a reason to fight, to live, to hope? I have no chance at all, no
chance of winning. Why fight when this is something I cannot fight
against? I can't win, I can't live, I can't love. Why did he have
to make me hope and wish for something I will never have? I had
nothing to lose, but now, now I have everything to lose. Everything
to live for. What right did he have to say that to me?

“
You have no right, no right at all,” I
whisper hoarsely through my tears.

I clamp my hands over my ears but his words echo
endlessly in my dark, spinning cell.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you!

I bite down on my lips until I taste blood. I refuse to
utter those three words aloud, even to myself. Never. Never!

His name, his face, his voice. The image of him, the
memory of him slams into me, shredding my heart into jagged pieces.

I surrender to the excruciating, exquisite pain, letting
myself fall completely apart. I have to be completely broken so that
they can't break me anymore.

It is the only way. Die now so that I am already dead
when dawn comes. And I will have nothing to lose.

Mam Mallisa flits around the Grooming Room like a
psychedelic butterfly.

But butterflies have very short lifespans.

These beautiful creatures encapsulate the ephemeral
nature of life perfectly. They dance through the earth, touching
flowers and lives, spreading beauty and fragrance as they flutter
through their short, intrepid lives. And then they die.

Gone. In a few hundred breaths, a thousand passing
heartbeats.

Mam Mallisa has certainly lived longer than a butterfly.

And so have I.

With the dawn comes an unnatural calm.

And when night falls, I dance.

We have been in the Grooming Room for ages. After our
trays arrived heaped with rice and a thin, salty gravy, we were given
some time to finish up our lunch before being ushered up to the
Grooming Room. Our bodies have been painstakingly washed, waxed and
plucked, like chickens being prepared for a stew.

After we have been dried, the Matrons apply a coat of
bronze polish over our skins, giving us an unnatural, metallic sheen.

I'd expected the Matrons to do something outlandish with
our hair, but Gwin only combs my hair carefully, untangling all the
knots. My hair falls over my shoulders, just covering my breasts.

“
Bring out the costumes!” Mam Mallisa calls
out in a singsong voice. She seems to be in a good mood, but her
smile is too tensed. She is wearing a shimmering black dress with a
large, fluffy, neon cape. Her hair is fashioned into two green
cones, adorned with countless pins and ribbons.

I pivot round on my platform and see a row of Matrons
matching in bearing our costumes.

I squint and frown. Are those our costumes, or are they
some plants from the palace gardens?

I watch with rounded eyes as the Matrons step up to the
girls and help them dress. Clasps and hooks are fastened and a
string of glowing leaves hang from the girls' hips. Their breasts
are covered with what look like bunches of grapes.

I inhale sharply.

Those are bunches of grapes. Not fake ones, but real
fresh, glistening, juicy grapes.

Gwin begins to rub a smooth, perfumed ointment over my
skin. After a while, I feel a growing heat beneath the surface of my
skin and I scratch irritably.

“
Don't do that,” Gwin cautions. “It'd
make it worse.”

“
Make what worse?” Nothing can be worse.

“
This serum will cool the surface of your skin,
trapping all your heat underneath your skin. The inside of your body
will feel increasingly hot, but the surface of your skin will be
cool. If you scratch, you'll feel even hotter, your internal
temperature rising even faster.”