"Dangerous Woman" by Ariana Grande
Bound to the bed, my limbs spread across each side, numb and pallid. I desperately attempted to restore sensation, circling my fists around the tie. He had left me in this vulnerable state for nearly another hour, and I found myself entangled in his manipulative game.
The awareness of what he was doing to me intensified, and my yearning for him echoed louder with each passing moment. Initially, I had convinced myself I could resist him; after all, I had known him for only a day.
But that day felt like a year, which made it worse.
He was a captivating poison, the kind you knew better than to consume, yet found yourself drinking, nonetheless.
In a desperate plea, I screamed, "HELP!"
My voice reverberated through the room, but deep down, I knew no one would return after encountering his presence. Perhaps he had forbidden anyone from approaching the room after encountering his ex. It felt like a dungeon with no means of escape. Just as hope began to wane, the voice of a maid escaped through the door.
"Oh, sweetie, is everything okay? I can't come in; the door is locked," she said.
"My arms are numb. He is such a..."
Before I could finish, I opted for a direct request. "Do you have the key to the room?"
"I'm sorry, miss, but only Mr. Colucci has the key," she informed me.
"Could you please call him? My hands are losing feeling," I shouted.
"Okay," she responded.
Apollo
The basement, a place where those who broke our code faced their consequences, carried the heavy scent of fear and despair mixed with death and blood.
As time passed, I had grown accustomed to its smell, becoming immune to the desperate pleas for life that echoed within. Few were the men who faced their fate in silence, earning my deepest respect.
"Tell me where he is," I demanded, my voice devoid of warmth, the glint of a knife emphasizing my intent as I pressed it against the man's gut.
His response was a symphony of pain and fear.
"I don't know!" he cried out, desperation straining his voice.
Just then, my phone shattered the tense atmosphere with its ring. It was the maid, and her calls only came in times of trouble. A flicker of concern passed through me, a fleeting thought that perhaps Belle had managed to escape.
"What's the matter?" I inquired sharply.
"Mr. Colucci, I apologize for the intrusion, but your wife, Belle, is locked inside your room," the maid reported, her concern evident.
A sardonic chuckle escaped me, fully aware of the circumstances in which I had left Belle.
"Mr. Colucci, she appears quite distressed. She's mentioning there is numbness in her arms," the maid continued.
Despite the gravity of her words, another amused chuckle left me.
"Did you ask her how she found herself in such a state?
I listened as the maid relayed my question to Belle, the air thick with anticipation.
There was a pause, followed by a faint, muffled conversation.
"What does she want, Viola?" I pressed, eager to hear Belle's request.
After a brief hesitation, Viola's voice came through.
"Your wife is requesting a particularly large, uncooked cock. She seems quite adamant about it, despite my suggestions of more traditional preparations like soup or roasting," she explained.
"Tell my wife I'll be there shortly," I said with a chuckle.
"Understood, sir," Viola responded.
I ended the call and glanced briefly at the man I had been interrogating.
"I guess is your lucky day," I punched him, "I'm going to fuck my wife."
Man growled in pain, and I turned to Jimmy, "Finish what I started."
Leaving the basement, my steps led me upstairs, an unexpected weight settling in my thoughts. Choosing the refuge of the guest bedroom's shower, my aim was to cleanse myself of the remnants lingering from the basement - the violence, the blood, the pervasive scent that clung to my skin.
It was almost as if she possessed a sixth sense for such things, and the last thing I desired was to give her cause for repulsion.
Under the steady flow of water, a surprising realization washed over me: a genuine desire for things to work between us. This sensation, unforeseen and peculiar, steadily took root and grew within me.
***
"How was your meeting?" she inquired.
"Intense," I replied succinctly.
She mirrored my tone, "Hmm."
Approaching her, I asked, "And you? Are you in the mood?"
Calmly she responded, "Oh, I'm in a mood alright," she said, her voice taking on an edge, "To beat you fucking ass. Who thinks it's okay to leave someone tied for hours?"
Her frustration was clear, yet there was a challenge in her eyes that I couldn't ignore.
I laughed, "I do."
Her laughter was tinged with disbelief.
"You really are something else, Apollo," she remarked.
Her challenging eyes prompted a question from me, eyebrow arched.
"Do you want to stay like this?"
"Not in a million years."
As I untied the bow, freeing her hand, she quickly used her newfound freedom to deliver a stinging slap across my face.
"Just checking if nerves from my palms are still active," she quipped.
I couldn't help but growl in response, but I proceeded to untie her other hand. True to form, she repeated her earlier action.
"And that's for balance," she said, a fierce gleam in her eyes.
In a swift motion, I caught her hands, pinning them above her head.
"Enough," I said firmly.
Her defiant gaze met mine.
"I'll never stop standing up for myself," she declared.
Our eyes locked, and for the first time, I truly observed the color of her eyes — a mesmerizing green at the center, encircled by a vivid blue, with hints of brown alongside her pupils, accented by a subtle dot. She stood before me, the most stunning woman I had ever laid eyes on.
Her brown hair cascaded in straight strands, framing her face, and her lips were round, full, and undeniably kissable.
Slim and petite, she matched my waning patience, yet her character exuded a fierce determination, mirroring my own.
Her heart, I realized, was not one to be easily tamed, but I harbored no desire to do so.
The spark she ignited within me was one that persisted to glow.
Belle
There was an undeniable charm about him, with his deep blue eyes that seemed to hold entire oceans. He was the kind of man that both intimidated men and captivated women.
And here I was, with him, in a situation I never imagined - alone, under his hold.
Unable to resist the magnetic pull between us any longer, I leaned in and kissed him. Our kiss was a dance of passion and defiance, a perfect yet complex melody.
"You're mine, Belle," he asserted, his voice a low growl.
Silence was my only response.
I've always believed I'm not a prize to be claimed or given away, yet there was an undeniable sense of belonging in his embrace as if I was inexorably drawn to him.
This wasn't a fairytale; I was acutely aware of that; we were far from the classic tale.
I could understand why Beauty might fall for the Beast, yet Apollo was no beast destined to transform into a charming prince, and I was certainly not the Beauty whose kiss could bring about such change. And truthfully, that wasn't what I was seeking.
What if, deep down, I wanted just a Beast?
What if I longed for someone who could stand toe-to-toe with the five hundred and five versions of myself that I sometimes let loose?
I surrendered to the moment, losing myself in his embrace.
"Apollo," I whispered my voice a mix of desire and surrender.
"I adore how my name sounds when it's said by your lips," he responded, his words laced with passion.
"Really?" I inquired, curious yet captivated.
He paused; his expression playful yet intense as he began to trace kisses along my neck. His actions were fervent, as though he was savoring every moment, but then he stopped.
"Why did you stop?" I asked, my voice tinged with both disappointment and anticipation.
"Patience," he said softly, his fingers deftly beginning to unbutton his shirt.
As he undressed, my fingers lightly traced the scars that marked his body, feeling every imperfection and story they held.
"Apollo, may I ask about these?"
He paused, a softness in his eyes.
"Let's not speak about that tonight, Bellissima," he replied, gently moving my hand away from his chest.
His response was different this time; there was no harsh dismissal or secretive refusal.
It appears he might open eventually, but the choice was mine – to push for his past or to let him remain, for now, the 'Beast'.
"I want to understand," I insisted softly.
He shifted, sitting at the edge of the bed, his back to me.
"It's a part of my past that's shrouded in darkness," he said with a chuckle, "darker than you might imagine."
"I'm here, and I'm ready to listen," I assured him, leaning in to rest my head against his shoulder, signaling my readiness to share his burden.
"I see what you're trying to do, Bellissima, but it won't work," he spoke with a hint of resignation.
"Opening up to you... it makes us both vulnerable. You'll pity me, let your guard down, and see me as nothing more than a wounded soul who's lost his trust in the world."
"Wow, you really do have some deep-seated trust issues."
I stepped back, creating a short distance.
"You don't have to share anything with me. I won't pry anymore."
He looked at me skeptically.
"Sure, you won't."
"I mean it," I insisted, feeling a sudden shift in my mood.
"Actually, I'm not in the mood for this anymore."
His forehead creased in confusion, a look uncharacteristic of his usually composed manner.
"What?" he exclaimed.
Suppressing a giggle, I quickly retreated to the bathroom and locked myself in.
"Belle," he called from the other side of the door, "come on, open up."
"No," I replied playfully.
"I'm treating myself to a nice, long bath. You and your cock can wait outside."
He knocked forcefully on the door.
"Belle, don't test me. I can break this door down if I have to."
"But think of the hassle of fixing this custom-made door," I said, my voice playful as I turned on the bathwater.
"I'm about to enjoy a bubble bath, and I'm just slipping out of my clothes."
His voice grew more insistent, even as he banged on the door.
"Belle, this isn't funny."
"Shh," I teased, adding a playful tone to my voice.
"Could you keep it down for an hour or so? I'm planning on a taking a power nap."
"Belle, you're going to regret this little game."
"Oh, I'm trembling," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
His laughter came through the door, a mix of annoyance and amusement, "you just wait."
A lump formed in my throat as I recognized the gravity of who he was and the situation at hand.