“Don’t you dare cum,” I hiss, biting the back of her neck, tasting the copper of blood on my tongue. “Hold it. Hold it for the camera, Raven. I want him to see you suffer for it.”
She’s wailing now, a raw, primal sound of pure sensory overload. Her legs are giving out, only held up by the strength of my grip on her waist. I see the glitch on the screen intensify—the static turning into a frenzied crawl of white noise—as if the observer on the other side is losing his mind watching me claim every part of her.
I feel my own end coming, a dark, heavy pressure behind my ribs. I pick up the pace, my thrusts becoming shallow and lightning-fast, bottoming out against her until she’s nothing but a sobbing, vibrating wreck beneath me.
“Now,” I growl. “Cum for me now.”
She shatters.
A long, high-pitched keening sound spills from her throat as she collapses forward onto the console. I follow her down, burying myself as deep as I can go, my own release hitting me with the force of a physical blow. I groan into her shoulder, my heart hammering against her spine, marking the monitors with the sweat and heat of our combined collapse.
The room falls into a heavy, ringing silence, broken only by our laboured breathing and the hum of the cooling fans.
I stay inside her, unwilling to let go, unwilling to give the watcher even a second of her back. I look up at the main monitor. The static is gone. The screen is black.
He saw. He saw everything.
I pull Raven back against my chest, her body limp and unresponsive, her skin cooling in the air. I wrap my arms around her, a human cage, and whisper into the dark.
“Now… we get the locks.”
Chapter 2
RAVEN
Istill taste him on my tongue. I can feel him under my fingernails. Pressed into the cracks of my skin. Etched between the spaces in my ribs. Damien gets inside me in ways I can’t wash off. Ways I don’t want to.
But it’s not just him anymore. It never was.
The walls hum like they’re breathing. Like someone’s standing just behind them, watching me through the plaster, waiting for the next time Damien’s not looking. Waiting for when I’m alone. Except I’m not alone. I’m never alone. The lock clicks. Twice.
His rules bite the back of my throat like a prayer I don’t know how to stop saying.
Stay where I tell you to stay. Speak when I tell you to speak. Walk when I tell you to walk.
It should choke me. It should make me claw at the door, pound my fists against the walls, scream for space. But I don’t. I don’t want space. I want him. I want the cage.
The sound of Damien’s boots scuffing the floor pulls me out of my skin, drags my pulse into my ears. He’s pacing again. Tracking something I can’t see. I stand in the doorway of the surveillance room, my shoulder pressed to the frame like it’s the only thing holding me up.
The Polaroid sits on the desk. Face down. But I can still feel it looking at me.Do you taste her when you sleep?
I wrap my arms around myself. Tight. Too tight. I shouldn’t wonder if he does. But I do. I shouldn’t wonder if I want him to. But I do.
Damien snaps his head toward me like he’s heard my thoughts scratch across the walls.
“Come here,” he says, sharp, precise.
I walk to him. He grips my wrist, pulls me onto his lap, tucks me against him like I fit there—like I was built for this place.
“You feel safe?” he asks, his breath warm against my temple.
I nod. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just holds me there, his hand splayed across my ribs like he’s counting my heartbeats.
“They’re still watching,” I whisper.
He hums low in his throat, the sound rumbled through my back. “They can watch.” His voice is a slow cut. “They can watch you beg. They can watch you cum. They can watch me break you over and over again.”
My breath stumbles.
