His hand moves, releasing my throat to tug at the neck of my dress, hauling it off my shoulder until the fabric draws tight against my chest, digging into my skin as it strains, scoring a line in my flesh.
The pressure increases until I try to fight, the fabric finally tearing.
“Stop fighting me, you freak.”
“Says the guy who needs a gun to get hard.”
His eyes drill into mine, fires raging behind their glacial blue. The gun skids across the floor, far out of reach, and he straddles me, sitting back on his heels as he grabs my dress to rip it farther, the fabric rending until he lets go and the halves fall on either side, my chest exposed.
In a second, the urgency leaves him. He cradles a hand under my neck, raising me as he peels the material away from my body, leaving the tattered pieces to pool around my waist, holding me upright as his fingers snap open my bra.
I try to help but he flips the front above my head, twisting and binding my arms in the straps as he fastens his lips to one breast, taking it inside his mouth, the steady pull of suction tugging at an invisible cord that attaches between my tits and my cunt, flooding me with desire until my mouth seeks any part of him I can reach, desperate to have any piece of him inside me.
But the moment he raises his head, he twists the elastic straps, binding my arms even tighter. He flips me onto my stomach, skin retracting in shock from the cold tiles, groaning as he settles his weight back upon me.
“What use is your experience now?” he whispers into my ear, breath hot against my neck. Then he puts his mouth to use, kissing and sucking at my shoulder, my back, my neck, crushing my arms against my back as he tips his weight forward, fumbling to release himself one-handed, nails scraping thin lines in my skin as he searches for my hem, tugging it upwards.
Then his fingers slide under me, lifting my hip as they delve into my panties, curling against my pussy, fumbling, rough as they slip inside my silken-wet folds, a groan escaping his lips as he strokes me. He eases the pressure when I yelp against the force, slipping and sliding, rubbing and stroking, his middle finger breaching my entrance.
I arch my hips as much as I can under his weight, matching my rhythm to the thrust of his finger inside me while his hips grind his hard cock against my arse.
“Fucking tease.”
His hand disappears, hauling my underwear halfway down to my knees with one furious motion. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” he croons, and it’s like he’s possessed by two different people.
The beautiful caring boy who holds my hand as we walk along the school hallways, building trust, wheedling compliance. And the rough man who couldn’t care less what I think or feel. The brute who injected a sedative into my muscle tissue; all so he could take whatever he desired, heedless of my screams.
I want both. Twisted and tangled together, gentle and forceful, one driving forward, relentless, while the other holds back.
Goosebumps chase across my flesh, heightening my sensitivity, sending a cascade of hot and cold tingles to ripple across my skin until the entirety becomes an erogenous zone, desperate for his touch.
“Please,” I croak in a cracked voice, spreading my thighs as far apart as the tangle of underwear will allow.
He seizes them again, this time tugging until they’re all the way off, tossing them above my head to land on the gun, hiding its cold anger beneath the silky fabric, still warm with a glistening streak from the gathering wetness between my legs.
“That’s it,” he rumbles in my ear, punctuating his words with a twisted groan. “You beg for me and maybe I’ll deliver.”
My hips have a mind of their own, bucking against him, seeking his hardness, seeking the pleasure that only his fat cock can provide.
“I want you.” My voice cracks to a halt as his thick fingers fasten around my throat again, tighter than any collar. “Nobody else, ever again. Just you.”
The head of his cock pushes against me, blindly seeking its warm resting place. I twist my hips, arching my back to make it easier. While one hand continues to act as my collar, the other burrows between my legs, trying to find its home.
He pushes forward, surging into me, a gasp loud in my ear as he stops, withdraws a little, then thrusts all the way home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MADDOX
My blood is smearedacross her back, the pale skin marked with my frantic and disastrous attempt to leave this painful world behind. The throb in my wrist matches to the pounding in my temples and the pulse in my cock, every beat making it harder, stronger, more desperate.
The urge to pull back and thrust is close to overwhelming, but I choose stillness instead, letting my senses calm enough to feed me the information I crave, the flood of input that feels so good easing inside my memory, lodging deep inside my brain.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, mimicking Evie’s earlier query, still unanswered except by the evidence available to her eyes.
If she said no, I couldn’t bear it. A pool of calm spreads across my fiery emotions, a gap allowing me time to breathe, space to think.
And what I think is that Evie is glorious. Her snapped retorts and dangling taunts, the speed with which she takes my jibes and turns them back on me.
