A/n: so I know that is a lot like Tight Grip but it is different. I wanted to play with his manipulation of her; it isn't really a happy ending. I hope you enjoy and don't think that it is too much like my others.
She cracked open the door slowly, praying that it didn't creak or juggle. Nellie pushed herself through the small crack. She looked around the room before fussing with her hair and dress, pressing it all back in to place.
The fire in the oven had died till only the embers were left glowing in their cast iron prison, casting an orange light across the stone walls. Striking at match, she lit a small lamp on the table. Nellie set quickly to work pouring flour over the table and pounding a round ball of dough on to the flour.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the inner stairwell. Her breathing hitched as she heard his boot on the floor outside her bake house. She quickly sprinkled flour over the dress and smeared it across her face.
His dark figure appeared in the door way, his face shrouded by shadows. The orange light fluttered across his face, leaving dark holes in his thin sculpted cheeks. Nellie pretended not to sense his presence but it surrounded her. He watched he pounded the dough, watched her curls bounce, her body move.
"Where were you?" He asked stepping carefully in to the room.
"Oh Mr. T, I didn't hear you come down." She brushed a curl from her face with shaking hands.
"Where were you?" He stepped in to the light fully.
"Here, making dough." She fidgeted as he stepped close to her.
"Where were you?" His voice was sharp, laced with anger, his fists tightened in to balls as his sides.
"I was here." Nellie pushed her curls out of her face. Sweeney lunged forward gripping her thing neck in his large hands. She sputtered as he tightened his grip. Sweeney twisted her face to face him, craning her neck about. Through his spread fingers he could make out a small purple imprint on her smooth skin.
"Where were you?" He whispered harshly. He pushed her over the table, her back lying down in the flour. The purple mark taunted him from between his fingers. With his free hand he pulled at her dress, lifted the hem to her thighs.
"No!" She screamed. His eyes squinted his anger, burning with a hot fire. He let go of her neck and started to pull at the strings over her dress.
He watched her twist about on the table; a small smirk crept on to his face as he watched her.
"Why my love?" He said with spit.
"He'll know." She whimpered, pulling herself away from him.
"Who dear? The one who gave you this?" He said roughly, gripping her neck once again and twisting it to him. Her gaze fell to the floor. "Who my dear?" He screamed in to her face.
"No one!" she struggled to speak.
"No one made that mark? Highly unlikely." He let her go. "I don't like other people touching my things! Tell me my sweet, who is he?" He reached out to brush her cheek tenderly. Nellie stared in shock as he touched her, called her his. He smiled softly at her, masking the anger in his eyes.
"Jonathan, Jonathan Smith." She whispered.
"And why is he touching you my love?" He reach up and touched her cheek again, his could hands against her warm skin.
"He loves me." She stammered.
"But I love you." Sweeney whispered, his eyes closed as so not to give his dark secret away.
Nellie's head shot up and stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Do you?"
"Of course Mrs., My Nellie." He bit his lip, cursing himself for slipping up.
"Oh Sweeney." She melted.
"I would like to speak with him dear, tell him I love you that I don't like others touching my things."
"Invite him for dinner? You won't hurt him will you?" She gripped his shirt lightly.
"I won't lay a finger on him." He smiled sweetly. "Go up and get in bed, I would like to join you tonight." He said. Nellie looked up at him, her mouth open slightly waiting for his. He pressed his lips slightly against her. She slid off of the table and walked to the door. She paused for a moment watching him, seeing is he was for real. He stood there smiling at her.
"Are you coming?"
"Of course love." He shuffled behind, a sneer crossing his face. The bake house door slammed shut.
A/n: I hope you liked it; there will be at least one for chapter if you all like it.