Beast: Part Two Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’s close enough to touch. He holds his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
    “Why?” I whisper.
    “Because I asked you to .”
    And because he asks me to, I do it. I hand him my phone, and study the fresh scar underneath his chin as he punches something in. A second later, he hands it back to me with my bank’s home page open.
    “Put in your info rmation.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I said so.” His hand cups my cheek, and his mouth tugs into a grim-seeming half-smile. “Oh, Angel,” he says softly. “I see we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
    I can’t look at him. My body’s gone white hot. I keep my eyes on my phone’s screen and try to remember to breathe. My fingers type my sign-in information. The page flickers, then loads.
    AVAILABLE BALANCE: $51,110 .03
    My eyes fly to his. “Why? Holt told me the two of you made nice.”
    He closes the remaining two-inch gap of space between us. His hips against my stomach. His abs against my breasts. One hand comes up to caress my hair. “I’m doing it,” he says slowly, “because I want you. And what I want, I take.”
    I wonder who else’s he’s wanted since he’s been here. Do women line up on conjugal day to fuck him? If they do, does he meet them here, in this empty library?
    “Who’s the warden when Holt is gone?” I ask instead.
    “N ame is Perkins.”
    I’m lost in his eyes. Now I understand that phrase from books: I’ve fallen in to them. I blink. Still in. “He lets you do what you want?” I can’t tell if I’m whispering, or if my voice sounds small because the roaring in my head is so loud.
    His fingers comb through the coils of my hair. “He and I have an understanding.”
    “Not just him,” I say. “Everyone seems to do whatever you want.”
    “You want to know how much power I have. Why? Because you need to know before you fuck me again?” He drags his thumb over my lip. I have the urge to part my lips, but don’t obey it.
    “Last time,” I manage. His eyes are rapt on mine. “I wanted it,” I hear myself explain. “But…”
    I want to tell him that it frightened me. How utterly I surrendered. The way I lay there, l etting him have his way with me. He flung me down and pushed inside, and I— I what?
    I let him.
    I shake my head. “If that keeps happening…”
    Already happening.
    I’m drifting like space dust, no longer corporeal. All my atoms are vibrating in sync with his. My feet work on their own. I take a small step back.
    “ You look nervous,” he says. His hand, still in my hair, turns to my cheek. It’s warm. Calloused. “Come sit down.”
    He takes my hand and leads me to a window seat. A built-in bench, pressed up against a wall of glass. He wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me up. My eyes scan the patchy, dirt-strewn yard outside. The way the raindrops make the puddles ripple. The sky is white. Stark white.
    “Just a minute,” he says.
    I turn back around to see him reach onto some shelves along the wall and grab an armful of navy blue blankets. Painters’ blankets, I realize. He sets them on the bench beside me. Smooths one out. Lifts me up and sits me on it. Then he tucks another one behind me.
    “Thank you,” I murmur. Despite the blankets’ tattered appearance, they seem soft enough. There’s no paint on them, and they don’t smell like it. Another one unfolded by his big hands, tucked around me.
    “You got wet. Warm up a minute .”
    I sit there because m y brain is broken and my heart feels puffed up like a balloon. I sit there, watching him. The last thing I expect is him, climbing up behind me. He leans his torso against my back, spreads his legs around my butt and thighs. Gentle fingers stroke my hair off my back, over my shoulders. Strong hands begin to knead.
    “Don’t be nervous , Angel. I’ll take care of you.”
     
    *
     
    Beast
     
    I’ve brought many women here. Conjugal sessions are every Tuesday and Thursday, on a small hallway with hard cots and no heat. But I bend