11. CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

Leighton

M arcus's first step out of the glass house shuts me up faster than his creepy yet annoyingly sexy words do.

There's a pool here.

A freaking pool.

I haven't seen it from the bed where he had me bound for the last few hours. Nor when he carried me to the bathroom.

But I see it first.

Then smell it. Smell the sickening scent of chlorine.

Normally, I don't mind the smell or the sight of the pool. Once upon a time, Marcus made me forget my anxiety altogether and coaxed me into dipping my feet inside.

Today, the mere low sloshing sound of the water terrifies me.

Today won't be like that other time.

Marcus himself isn't like that other time .

"No," I whisper, my throat tight, suffocated by anxiety. Any attitude I might've given him is nowhere to be found. "Please, don't."

"You've had your chance, Leighton." Marcus reaches the ledge of the pool. I look down to see the water sloshing at his feet. Watch with terror as they ebb and flow. Ready to take me. "We're doing things my way now."

I'm frozen. Unable to spit back that everything we've done for the past day has been done his way .

Even if I could, what good would it do?

I steer my gaze to the man holding me. His features are cold and fearless whereas mine are steeled by terror. His back is ramrod straight. His stance confident.

Kidnapping me doesn't unnerve him. No part of him is worried the police might catch up to us. That's Marcus.

Always so put together. Always so rational. Composed.

That's the only part of him that reminds me of the other Marcus.

The one whose mercy I'm appealing to.

"I'll drown." I ball my hands into fists, punching his chest. "I'll drown and die. You and your little doll fantasy will go straight to hell where you belong."

Effortlessly, he twists me on his large body. My world turns upside down as my stomach presses to his shoulder. All I see are his back and his heels.

It doesn't take long for me to understand why he did it. A large hand smacks my bare bottom. Before the sting of the slap fully sinks in, Marcus lands three more on the same spot .

I've been sore from the spanking before. I'm howling now.

"You won't drown." In a complete one-eighty, he smooths his hand over my singeing butt cheek, rubbing the sore spot. "Want me to tell you why?"

"I won't magically un-panic, you know." Despite the effort I put into wriggling out of his hold, I remain pinned to him. "You fucking sadist. Let me go."

"Very good, Leigh. Sadist is a great description. We're making progress." The smugness in his voice annoys and mesmerizes me. "Now that we have the word psychopath out of the—"

"Pfft." I huff, though the sound lacks any sign of conviction. Mocking him is hard when the threat of being thrown into the water hangs over my head. I do try, though. "We haven't. You're a psycho. Psycho, psycho, psycho, psy—"

"Not. A. Psycho." He pushes a finger into my core, and I gasp. "I'm passionate. Possessive. Over you."

"Ob—" I choke on the word when he curls his finger inside me and grazes that spot. My body doesn't care that I'm sore or terrified. Not in the least. "—sessed."

"We've accomplished that I'm obsessed. That's true." His voice is tight. The arousal he forces out of me leaks down my thighs. I feel the growl emanating from his chest. "So are you."

"The fuck I am." Jesus, why do I sound so pathetic? Why am I clinging to his shirt instead of pushing him away?

Marcus removes his finger from my pussy, sliding two of them quickly up my clit and squeezing. It's a tight fit, between my body and his. But if I've learned one thing, it's that this man will stop at nothing.

Nothing.

"Last chance, Leighton." His touch burns. His touch turns me on. "Tell me you love me. That you've always needed me. Admit that you've felt our connection all those nights you've lurked outside my door. That it was because you loved me."

"I didn't use you ." I choke on my spit. I can't tell if he's trying to humiliate me or get me off. He succeeds in both. Doesn't matter. I won't ever tell him I love him. "I've been using another man."

"I'm the same person I've always been. I've always been both." His grasp around my thighs tightens, punishing. Bruising me. "You'll see that soon. I'll force your eyes to open. I'll do whatever it takes to make you see."

"You can't—"

Time stills. My body flies in the air. The rest of the sentence dies when shock swoops in and shuts me up. I flail my arms and legs for what feels like an eternity.

My eyes latch on to my kidnapper. The soft glow from the house and the underwater lights illuminate the devil just enough for me to catch his dark expression.

Then the longest second ever reaches its climactic ending. My ass hits the warm water of the pool. They wrap their vicious arms around me. Latching on to my skin. Pulling me under.

I've never learned how to swim.

I guess, now, I never will .

"Leighton," Marcus booms. His hands rest on his hips, calm and assessing me while panic eats at my soul. "Do you remember? Remember how much you love me?"

This isn't a swimming lesson. This isn't his way of helping me to cope with my fear.

It's a means to control me.

Fuck him. I'd rather die than give him the satisfaction.

Even if it's the truth.

He'll have to admit that he loves me the way I need him to first. He'll have to stop being a sadistic asshole before I admit to anything. I won't cave in to his manipulations. I refuse to be a pawn in his sick game.

If he really loves me, he'll be the one who'll have to come to me. Not the other way around.

"I don't." My heart pounds, my inhales and exhales short. Air barely gets in and out. I scream through the burn, "Don't love you."

When my head goes below the surface, I kick my feet like I've seen Marcus and Rylan do a million times. Wave my arms and splash water everywhere. I'm not exactly floating and there's water in my mouth, but I'm not drowning.

I've got this.

"Tell me you want me to come get you. Me. No one else." Marcus whips his shirt over his head, throwing it behind him. "And I'll dive in to save you."

"No." I tilt my head back so I look up at the star-filled sky, gasping for air. "Never. You"—I spit out water, sucking in air—"psycho."

"Leighton." Worry slithers into his voice .

Good.

"Look at you. You're drowning." He emphasizes the last word, knowing it'll push my buttons. "Admit that you love me already, dammit."

For the past day and night, he's been controlling every aspect of my life. And while running away isn't an option for me, I do have this.

I'm done being the only one confused. The one used.

I'm fighting back.

I'll be the one who'll force him to remember who he was. Force him to remember what love looks like.

Maybe this will save me. Maybe this will get my old Marcus back.

Don't pretend you want to get rid of this one.

I shut the stupid voice up.

One step at a time.

"Fuck"—I open my mouth, gulping in water and the hot air of the night—"you."

With those departing words, I let go. Let my arms and legs fall at my side. Close my eyes. Succumb to my fear.

My hair brushes across my face the lower I go. Pressure builds up in my ears. My lungs burn. I'm heavy. So heavy.

Down, down, down, my body goes. Diving into the darkness.

This isn't as bad as I imagined it would be. And hey, at least I'll die knowing I've done it on my own terms.

Liar. You trust him to come get you.

As if on cue, the water shakes around me. My pinched eyes snap open to find Marcus there .

He's here to save me. Here to punish me, by the look on his face. Eyebrows furled together, black eyes shooting daggers at me.

He's furious.

I've ruined his plan.

My anxiety isn't as debilitating anymore. Now that I want to get back at him.

I hate him for everything he's making me feel. I hate him for making me love his psycho side.

Fuck him. I'm going to ruin his plan some more.

I resist his grasp on my arm, shaking him off. I'm adamant to stay where I am.

When Marcus tugs on my arm again, I open my mouth, letting the air out and water in. The burn in my lungs intensifies. I'm choking. Dying.

He'll save you.

He'll also have this image etched into his memory the next time he even thinks about being a dick to me.

A part of me loves him. And a part of me hates myself for loving him.

But no part of me is a doormat.

Eventually, my vision blurs, and my body grows heavy. My resistance wanes and Marcus is able to drag me up.

Head out of the water, he flattens the front of my body to his. I cough, spitting out water. Strands of my hair are glued to my eyes.

"So stubborn." He wades backward with me in his arms, hauling me up and onto the floor .

"So asshole." What I'm saying doesn't make sense. Then again, what fucking part of this situation does?

None.

More water comes out of my mouth as I cough, and I rub my sore throat. Marcus shakes his head, climbing out of the water to sit beside me. I almost choke again when a hint of amusement curves his lips up.

"This funny to you?"

"No."

My eyes are drawn to the pants sticking to the lower part of his body. To his bulge.

"Leighton." He's scowling. "None of this is funny to me."

"You smiled."

He moves on top of me. Muscular arms brace by my head. Insistent knees push my legs open. He gets off on caging me. The idiot I am, I don't put up a fight.

I let him handle me.

Maybe I am becoming his doll.

"So pretty, Leighton. More progress. That's good."

"What are you even talking about?" My curiosity gets the better of me. My curiosity crushes my need to put Marcus in place.

"Your subconscious is begging for me to come get you." That's the only answer I get. The reason for his happiness. He's sick. Wonderfully sick. "A part of it knows you're my woman."

Of course, a part of me does. A lot of fucking parts of me are his .

Years of adoring him. Moments of sneaking up to his room. The heartbeats I lost whenever his muscles flexed as he swam.

What's it been like for him?

No, I don't care.

I care about clinging to my anger. I care about telling Marcus that his next words should be an apology, or he can go fuck himself.

But my curiosity wins again. I want him to analyze me. Eager for him to explain himself. Talk to me like the adult I've always wanted to be in his eyes.

"What does being yours mean?"

Marcus doesn't answer for a while. He just drags his finger along my jaw, slides it across my cheek and into my mouth. Rubs my tongue.

"It means everything." In and out his finger goes, insistent like the tone of his voice. Sending a thrill through me. "You've been mine for years, Leighton. I'm very serious about what's mine."

I should remind him that he can't just take something—a person —and claim it as his. But he'll see through my lie.

He's right. I am his. Have been his. I've never gone any further than kissing a boy in ninth grade. And the only reason I did that was so one day when I kiss Marcus, it won't be awkward.

Fuck.

He doesn't have to ask for my consent. It's been his for as long as I can remember myself .

"You're going to fight me on this. I can see it in your eyes. I don't care." Remorse doesn't register in his confession.

I'm the one who's going through a change. On these harsh stone tiles, something transforms inside me. The longer Marcus talks, the more my resistance weakens. He's talking to me while doing something to my mind, and I'm helpless to stop him.

"You belong to me." His lips skim across my cheek. His finger keeps fucking my mouth, the repetitive action putting me in some kind of trance. "You love me. I'll just have to drag it out of you."

"No." Yes.

"We should've had more time back home. It would've made it easier for you." He breathes against my damp skin, rocking his erection on my sex. "I wish we had more time. Unfortunately, we don't."

More time? Despite the haze he's putting me under, I manage to raise my hand and pull his finger out of my mouth.

"You've had plenty of time." I'm angry with him. I'm sad too. I was always there . So available for him. "We've been talking about Rylan and I moving to New York forever. This house, you started building it years ago. Stop making excuses."

"New York." The corner of his mouth grazes mine. "Yes. You could say that's why I had to rush. Other than you refusing to be mine."

"You were careful not to hurt Rylan. That's why you've been stalling."

He whips his eyes to mine. His head gives me one firm nod .

That's part of the answer. In his subtly pained expression, I can tell there's more. He's hiding something.

He's tortured by his secret.

Marcus doesn't elaborate, leaving me to imagine the worst.

There wasn't a real reason for kidnapping me. We could've discussed this back home while Rylan was sleeping. He knows we could've.

Meaning, he did this—fucking kidnapped me—for fun. For his entertainment. For his sick pleasure.

Then again, my guess could be just that—a guess. Maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe he does love me so much that he snapped.

Or he could just be a sadistic psycho, and here I am, making excuses for him.

Marcus keeps to his silence, lowering his lips to mine.

I frown at him, the expression reflecting my confusion, worry, and anger.

No words come out of his mouth. No answers transpire through his eyes.

His silence is blaring.

His growl is louder. He slams his mouth on mine, claiming me with his kiss. Gripping my jaw in his hand, he forces my head up, deepening the kiss as his tongue plunges into my mouth.

"You stubborn thing." Marcus pulls back an inch, his expression severe. It almost looks like his psycho-self will be back any moment now. "I need to be inside you. I'm going to take from you, more than I already have. And you're going to let me. You'll grow a little sleepy, Leighton. A little tired. Just enough for me to make this good for you."

While he talks, his hand traces a burning trail down the side of my body and between my thighs. Going lower. Parting my butt cheeks. Teasing my asshole.

I'm aware of how by this point, I'm somewhat out of it. Not fully conscious.

My breathing has slowed. My body is heavy.

So when he pushes his finger up to the first knuckle, I let him.

"Your ass relaxes so beautifully for me."

"How…" I start, though the answer couldn't be more obvious.

"That's right." He pumps his finger in and out of me. I'm faintly aware of it happening. It doesn't hurt. It feels good. "Be quiet, little doll. Let me make this so good for you. So fucking good."

His order ties a noose around my vocal cords. I stare up, feeling my resistance as it's being pulled from me.

Except I'm still inside my body. I have the power to resist him. If I only wanted to.

Which I don't. I think I don't.

"Fuck yes." Marcus leans his weight on me, his kiss harsh and tentative at the same time. "Just like that, Leighton. I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I'll make you mine."

"Ah-ha," I whisper my consent.

"Good girl." He licks his lips, and my entire focus goes there. "I'm going to remove my finger from your ass, but you'll feel like I haven't. Like it's still there. "

Marcus pushes his finger deeper, stretching me. My brain thinks I'm screaming, when it's just a gasp leaving my parted lips.

"You'll feel me in there, filling your ass while my cock sinks into your pussy." He runs his teeth along my bottom lip without biting. "My good girl."

A slither of worry trickles into my bones. This is wrong on so many levels. He's crossing so many lines. Except my inhibitions are lowered. Endorphins swarm into my head.

No. I don't hate what he's doing to me.

In my periphery, I notice both of his arms are braced near my head again, yet the pressure inside my ass hasn't lessened. My eyes widen a fraction. His glimmer in response.

"You're even more susceptible than I thought." At some point, he took his cock out of his pants. I didn't notice it. I do now, as he lines his head to my slit. Spreading me. "Fuck, it's such a turn-on. Everything about you gets me hot, plaything."

That first push of his cock inside my pussy stops time. Our bodies connect and so do our gazes. Thick molasses separates me from reality.

However, I see this. Catch the slightest shift in Marcus's expression. Though his dick is hard, and his intrusion is unforgiving, Marcus's eyes soften.

"What a tight little pussy you have," he groans, dragging his length out of me and slamming back in. "Do you feel me, Leighton? Feel my thumb fucking your ass?" Marcus moves in and out of me, bottoming out every time. "Feel my cock deep in your womb? "

I do. My nerve endings spark wherever Marcus touches and where he says he touches. Yet the state I'm in prevents me from saying yes . From asking for more when I most definitely shouldn't.

His thrusts become harsher, less forgiving. He's grazing the spot that drives me crazy and floaty and needy for him.

"Leighton." He grabs my chin, tilting my head to him. "Blink once for yes."

Blink .

He's everywhere. Both of my holes are full. His finger and cock massage my insides instead of hurting them.

I'm not sure how any of this is possible. How my orgasm barrels forward. I'm on the edge, close to exploding into tiny particles. Nothing in my life has ever been this good. Nothing.

"That's my good girl." When his hand slithers down my body to my pussy, my head remains at the same angle he's left me. "Such a good girl."

He massages my clit in slow circles, another mind-fuck. It feels like a million hands touch me.

"Don't try to rationalize this," Marcus orders, seeing through my confusion. "Trust me, Leighton. Let go. Let me take care of you."

I blink. Once. His lips twitch, and his dick swells inside me.

"Come for me." Marcus's voice coaxes me, his cock and fingers force and rub and consume me. "Come for me, little doll."

A whimper slips past my lips when my orgasm hits harder than any other climax I've ever had. What starts in my core, races down to my toes. Up my navel and to my throat. Lands between my ears. Behind my eyes.

Energy in its purest form slices through my body. I don't know how to stop it. Don't know if I want to.

"Fuck." I hear Marcus in my ears, my belly, my fingertips.

He ruts faster, owning me with his thrusts while taking my mouth, demanding I give him the air in my lungs.

A few mind-numbing minutes later, he finishes with a visceral growl, emptying himself inside me. His warmth spreads through me, his presence engulfing me in sin and lust.

He's hell. He's life. He's the fiercest man I've ever met.

The way he looks at me makes me want to cry.

"You're everything that's beautiful and wonderful in this world." Marcus caresses my throat, his fingers sliding into my hair. "The best thing I ever did was take you. I would've done it again in a heartbeat. Drugged you. Gagged you. Would've done it all to have you with me."

His version of a love declaration rattles me. My lips pinch, my legs moving the slightest to close.

Abducting me wasn't some kind of foreplay. Wasn't consensual. He'd never really needed or sought after my consent.

Marcus wanted to act on his violent urges, so he did.

"Shh." Fake concern paints a deceitful mask on his face.

He's not concerned. He's cruel. Manipulative.

"Listen to my voice, Leighton." His face is directly above mine. He leans on his forearms, his fingers massaging my skull in a repetitive, hypnotic rhythm. "This is a safe space."

Lies .

I relax nonetheless.

"You're safe with me."

Liar , I scream in my head.

The tension leaves my muscles.

"There's nothing to be afraid of." The more he talks, the more I look into his eyes, the more I believe him. "You're starting to wake up into a peaceful state of consciousness. You're safe and loved. Safe—"

My fingers and toes twitch.

"—and loved."

My throat works. A tingling sense of awareness spreads across my face.

"Liar," I whisper. All of me wants to stay here with my body melding into him. All of me wants to get the hell out of here. "Let go of me."

"So loved." His lips press to one of my eyes, then the next.

"You're insane."

"And you're mine."

"Never." My body is sluggish when Marcus lifts from me and pulls on his pants.

"Wrong, little doll." He slides his arms beneath me, picks me off the floor. Takes me inside.

I don't have it in me to argue anymore. Sobbing from the humiliation, I melt into his arms. I liked what he did to me. I'm in love with him. I want to hate him, but I can't.

He doesn't say anything else either as he carries me into the bathroom. Inside, he places my wrecked body on the bench inside the shower, massaging shampoo in my hair, lathering soap on my skin .

His diligent yet tender ministrations are a stark reminder of what a good, caring man he is.

I cry some more, and he swipes the tears off my cheeks. Replaces them with kisses before soaping himself quickly.

As he carries me to the bedroom, we pass through the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and places it in my hand.

"Drink."

I'm too tired and thirsty to say no. And it was closed, so he couldn't have spiked it. I hope it's safe. So I do what he says. I drink.

"You've been hiding so much from me," I breathe out as he places me on the bed.

The covers are a mess, and the scent of sex permeates the air. Marcus tugs them from beneath me, tucking me in. His thick eyebrows lower, creases appearing on his forehead.

"My love made me do this." He's efficient as he binds my ankles to the rod at the end of the bed again. "All of this."

I don't bother analyzing the meaning behind his words. My exhaustion prevails, and my eyes flutter shut.

Any response I have to his declaration will have to wait.

I'll figure this out tomorrow.