Page 19 of The Price Of Possession

When I pull back, she blinks slowly. Her eyes are void of any emotion and Goddamnit, it makes me hard as hell. My hand threads up the back of her neck and into her hair, pulling her by the crown. Lucidity returns to her slowly. Tears start flowing freely down her cheeks when she catches a glimpse of the mask. Yes, Nightshade, it's me.

Goddamn, she cries so beautifully. Her eyes cut deep into my inner sanctum, dissecting what remains of my soul. Sharp jagged edges and shattered pieces eviscerate my insides. The dull ache I've suppressed comes blazing to the surface. She ignites a tempest within me. “Go ahead and cry, it makes my cock harder,” I urge her.

I block out the sane side of myself, letting the devil himself unleash. I can make a scene without a second thought. My fingers wrap around her wrist. I slam her body against the hard floor, keeping her shackled under me. The salty taste of her fear only fuels my dark desires. She's poison on my tongue. Her haunted eyes mirror mine. It pulls me in like a magnet.

“You're a fiery inferno, and I am the devil himself. A vicious beast, sweetheart.” I wrestle my cock free from my holey jeans. I do my best to drown out the cheers and endless eyes that surround us. Her head snaps to the side. Her cheek kisses the concrete floor. I'll never let her go. Fuck, I can't.

I part her thighs without remorse, dropping my hand from her wrist. I'm confident she won't fight this. How can she?

I run my hands over her healed welts. I flick her pierced clit with my finger. She cries out. “Please!” her voice is a desperate cry. She finally gets vocal. I like it more than I should.

Fuck, she’s already started begging. I've never seen her so defeated. It only further feeds my sick delusion.

“A single touch, Nightshade? Is that all it takes?” I lift my mask up to lick her cheek down to her lips. Blood pulses through my veins, heating my insides.

My hand holds her jaw in place along the cold floor while my free hand lines up my cock to her entrance. I drown out the noise behind me, hyper focusing on her. I'll fuck her like my dreams. Relentless. Remorseless.

I slam into her without prepping her. I refuse to share my fractured beauty. Her body tenses. Her cries go silent. I know her clit is still sore.

God fucking damnit! Cry, Nightshade, CRY. I want your tears!

I fuck her like a savage. I need her to cry. I need her begging. Break, beauty, break for me. I've never been so close to release when fucking someone. Sober. Awake. Alive. I squeeze harder on her jaw, forcing her face forward to look into my eyes. I need her hurt, pain, and internal destruction to come. The desire to spit in her mouth tempts me, instead I bite her lip until it bleeds. Lucidity fully returns and the moment realization slams into her, I lift my mask fully.

I see the moment her ocean eyes splinter. My name leaves her lips like a silent prayer. “Kieran,” she sucks in a heavy breath. Tears fall down both cheeks. I've fallen into the pits of hell, and I relish in the burn. I could stay here until my dying breath. “I'll never forgive you,” she chokes out. My strokes turn rough and aggressive. My hand drops from her jaw. I bruise her hips with each punishing thrust.

She claws at me. “I. Hate. You!” She thrashes, enunciating each word like a sharp barb. I can't figure out if I'm punishing myself or her. The devil has come out to play. I just want to feel alive. My vision blurs as release is imminent. I want to erase the blonde woman from my mind. Too long has the blonde haunted my dreams. Now, I'm reliving it with Clara. I fuck her harder until her painful sobs turn into anguished howls of dismantled surrender. My savage claim pushes me over the edge, into the darkness.

“I don't need your forgiveness, I need your soul, Nightshade.” My release pours out of me into her depths, filling her like the savage animal I am.

The room turns silent. Sweat pours off my skin. I've left everyone awestruck. I never utilize the Void. Not a single Goddamn time. Minus the encounter with the blonde woman. I don't interact with these pricks. I knew the implications of arrogating her in front of everyone. They're going to think I'm claiming my spot at the head of Grimshaw with Mortensen. I gave them a show, but it wasn't for them. Nah, it was for Mortensen.

The fucker gave me no choice; I hate being controlled. The truth is, he would have done far worse, and I refuse to share her. My sick impulses she can manage. Her body felt like a cleansing. The impulsive need to feel her shatter under my touch will be my Goddamn undoing. She's got me feeling things I've not felt. She's a spark that exhumes my vitiated cravings. I've tried to stanch the darkness in me, but she brings it out in full force like a wrecking ball.

I stare down into her endless void. Her sanctum has been defiled. Her sanctuary shattered.

The same haunted eyes that plague me are now glassy. An unmoved blank expression is unlike what I've seen from her. It's clear she hasn't fucked without the use of drugs, alcohol, or other numbing agents. Me either, Nightshade, me either. I purposely dragged it out so she would sober up from whatever shit they gave her.

Her leaden stare tells me her spirit is broken. Why does the thought make me want to fuck her all over again until her piercing cries echo down the lithic hallways? My father grins at me from across the room as if it's the first redeemable thing I've ever done to appease him. I want him to think he's won. I'll never be his puppet and he will never have her. Now I just gotta figure out my next move. Not exactly my forte to plan far ahead.

I push off Clara to admire my handiwork. She's a cum filled, sloppy mess. The cold chains dig into her milky skin, marking her with nasty red marks. I love it more than I should. She's silent. Part of me wants to startle her just to see her pulse race, but instead, I unshackle her lifeless body and throw her over my shoulder effortlessly. She's all out of fight. Listless and vacant. Her spirit is shattered and I relish the fact I did that.

No one says shit to me when I stride through the Void. No one's going to touch her now. I've made my claim crystal clear. My impulses won, so I have no plan in place. I'll figure that shit out as I go.

I kick open the metal doors. All the fuckers part like the Red Sea for me. Her long, blonde hair falls over my back. Her feet dangle and I'm certain she's passed out from the pain and ordeal she's been put through. God, I want to fuck her again. Tremors course through my body, demanding I destroy her. The last of my restraint is lacerating me from the inside out.

I rip open the door to my Bugatti La Voiture Noire. I lay her down in the backseat with a blanket. She's going to hate me even more once she realizes what I'm about to do. No matter, I'll do whatever it takes to keep her as my own personal sex slave. All reason flies out the window. My fingers thread through my sweat coated curls. I climb into the driver's side, throw the car in drive, and pull onto the dark road leaving the Void in my rearview.

The heat circulates through the interior, warming her glacial skin. I drive in silence. The bumps along the old cobblestone road jostle her in the backseat. Soft moans and breathy murmurs fill the car. I scan the backseat through the rearview mirror. I rub my pierced tongue along my lip. Her naked body has freed itself from the confines of the blanket. Her nipples are hard and dying to be bitten. Fuck, I’d love to pierce them. She's such a stunning doll. A deadly Nightshade. She threatens my darkest desires. It scares the shit out of me.

“No . . . Mommy . . . no,” her voice pleas. Sleepy words leave her lips. Sweat breaks out over her skin. She thrashes against the leather seats. I return my eyes to the road, pulling into Grimshaw Cemetery. The same place they found Jax. No one will look for her here. I can't risk taking her back to Zain's, or worse, Mortensen's. I need to keep her for myself.

Reason leaves me. I never make thought out plans. My impulses get the best of me. She manages to drift back into a dream state. My head rests against the leather headrest and I slam the gear shift in park. I close my eyes. Shit is about to get heavy. I never make good decisions, why start now?

I dig a joint from my jeans and light up. My hands are shaky, my core jittery. She thinks she's not what I need, but she is. Her surrender, her complete devotion. I want her on her knees begging. I'm not certain I'll ever let her go after this.

I take a hit, suck in a breath and grab my jacket from the passenger seat. The dark, washed denim wraps around my torso. I exit the car and flick the last of my joint onto the gravel. I rip open the backseat. Her scent assaults my senses. Her silken skin is still damp from the warmth of the car. Such a helpless beauty. She has a taste for danger. What she fails to realize is the iniquitous, callous asshole I am. She's found herself in my hell.

Burn, baby, burn.