I am a monster. No, I’m a fucking animal. How the hell did I go from dressing her wound to... to finger-fucking her so hard that her blood ran down my fingers and into my palm. I glance at my hand now, see the dried blood, and feel an intense wave of guilt laced with animal desire. Unwelcome images of Leah, broken and bloodied, fill my head and I push them away.
This is entirely different. I would never intentionally hurt Imogen. And I would never take advantage of her. Although maybe I just did. Because what just happened was one hundred kinds of wrong.
I pace up and down my room, cursing my own stupidity and my complete lack of control. It doesn’t matter that she wanted it. It doesn’t matter how she moaned my fucking name, or that I made her come. It was immoral. She doesn’t know who I really am. Doesn’t know how fucked-up this truly is.
Where is she now? I wonder. I sent her to bed and she probably obeyed me, taught to do so by the animals who raised her. Animals just like me. Is she feeling any shame about what just happened? I hope not because she has no reason to. She’s probably feeling confused though, after I used her like that and then sent her away.
One day she’ll understand it was for her own good.
My mind is filled with her. Sparkling green eyes and full pink lips. The taste of her lips. Her soft moans. The way her body convulsed when she came for me. The rippling of her tight cunt around my fingers.
Christ! What if I hadn’t sent her away though. What if I’d carried on? Peeled her soft cotton panties down her long slender legs and then spread her wide open for me. Tasted the sweet arousal from her pussy and then sunk myself inside her tight heat.
My cock is aching at the thought, desperate for some relief. I lie on the bed and unzip my pants, hurriedly freeing my length from the confines of my boxers and squeezing the base of my shaft hard. I groan at the sweet relief it brings. It’s not sweet enough though. Not as sweet as her.
I squeeze harder, imagining sinking my cock deep inside her tight virgin cunt. Fantasizing about the soft needy little noises she’d make as I filled her up and claimed her for my own. I can almost feel the sting of her nails scratching my back as she’d cling to me, torn between pain and pleasure. And I’d bring her so much pleasure. Playing with her needy little clit while I fucked her. Making her come for me over and over. Tasting her skin. Sucking on the stiff peaks of her nipples. And then I’d let my mouth move farther down her body, eating her own cum out of her sweet cunt before I came inside her.
I stroke my shaft, coating it in the precum already weeping from the crown. I imagine how she’d taste, my tongue buried in her folds and her thighs wrapped around my head. Even the thought of her is all-consuming. I recall the feel of her tight center squeezing around my finger and the intoxicating scent of her cum. The cum still coating my fingers.
This is so fucking wrong, but I’m going to hell anyway. So I place my hand over my mouth and nose and inhale deeply, and I can almost taste her. The sweet smell of her juices, tinged with the coppery tang of her blood. My pure little angel. WhatI’d give to fuck her. Defile her in all the filthy ways I’m dreaming of. Sink my cock into all her tight pretty holes. Watch as I stretch her wide open for me. Only ever for me.
I tug harder. Squeeze tighter. Jerk faster. Breathe deeper until she’s all I can taste and smell and feel.
Pleasure ignites inside me, white-hot searing euphoria burning in my veins. I quicken my pace. Dart out my tongue to taste her on me. And I come with a blinding rush of adrenaline and euphoria, the kind of release that almost steals a soul from a man’s body. Ribbons of white-hot cum streak over my hand and onto my T-shirt.
I pant for breath, eyes closed as images of her swirl around my head. Of her naked. On her knees. With my cock inside her. Pliant and submissive. The one woman I shouldn’t have any such kind of thoughts for. The reason they say I’m a freak and a monster is because I fucking am one.
Chapter 25
Lincoln
“You’re leaving again? Already?” Pierre scolds me, having followed me down to the basement as soon he got out of bed.
I nod, sheathing my hunting knife and stuffing it into my bag. “You should have seen her, Pierre. I can’t even imagine what those sick fucks did to her.”
He frowns. “The girl you rescued?”
I’ve rescued hundreds of these girls and women over the years, so why am I still haunted by this last one? Is it because Leah saved my life, or because the carnage we survived created a connection between us—the kind I don’t usually establish with the women I rescue—and because of that, she shared a small piece of herself with me. Or maybe I’m haunted by what I did last night to the woman upstairs in my guest room. A line I promised myself I would never cross. But I’m not going to admit that to Pierre. “Her name is Leah, and yes.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “The same as they have done to them all, I imagine,monami. Why does this one have you so rattled? So desperate to leave again? Have you found out where another is being kept?”
“No.” I swallow down my anger because he doesn’t deserve it. “But I... Fuck!” I roar the word and he flinches. “I shouldhave saved every last fucking one of them, Pierre. What about all the women that are still out there, suffering and in pain? I should have shut down that fucking auction instead of...”
“Instead of what, sir?”
My anger explodes out of me. “Instead of fucking participating in it.”
He shakes his head. “And how exactly would you have done that? You are one man, Lincoln. Two with Edgar, but even together, and even with his contacts, you are not enough to take down a Brotherhood army. You would have only gotten yourself killed, and then what would have happened to Imogen? She would have been sold like cattle and there would be nobody to save her.”
Imogen? Her name alone fills me with shame and desire, and the thought of what would have happened to her had I not intervened almost makes my legs buckle. If I hadn’t bought her, she’d be somewhere out there now, broken and abused just like Leah. An indescribable rage burns through every fiber of my being.
Pierre rests his hands on either side of my face. “You cannot save them all,monami.”
“But I should, Pierre.”
He nods. “I know, and I also know you well enough to know that you do all you can. It is not enough, but it never will be. There can never be enough good done to undo all their wrongs. But that does not mean you stop trying, or that you stop fighting for the ones you can save, does it?”
I drop my head, knowing he’s right, but unable to rectify that truth with how inadequate I feel.
