8. CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Leighton

" Y ou're crazy. A psycho," I repeat it, louder this time, screaming when he doesn't stop sucking on my clit. "Fucking insane. Leave me alone. Help! Help me!"

"You're wasting your breath." He lifts his head, his lips shining with my arousal. The sight humiliates me. Makes me furious and turned on. What the hell is this? "There's no one here to save you. No one around for miles."

"Where is this place"—I moan at how his fingers skim along my entrance—"anyway?"

"Tsk, tsk." Marcus sits on his knees, leaning toward the nightstand. "I was hoping we wouldn't get to this. I bought those years ago thinking I'd use them to pleasure you. Now, you're forcing my hand."

"Bought what? And I didn't lie," I spit out, indignant and borderline hysterical. "I didn't lie."

"That's right, you didn't." His abdomen muscles clench as he pauses above me, before he takes out whatever the hell it is from the nightstand. "I'm not going to spank you."

My relief is fleeting.

"Don't hypnotize me." I sound horrified. Which, if we're being technical, is a lie. My stupid lust has me craving this. Being helpless beneath Marcus. While he fucks me. Jesus, I'm just as fucked up as he is. But he can't know. This monster can never know. "I'll do anything. Please, Marcus."

He ignores me, sifting through the top drawer for a torture device, no doubt.

"Careful, Leighton, that's almost a lie."

How could he have known? Better say less. Better say nothing if I don't have to.

When Marcus comes back on top of me, his hands grip two small, red vibrators and two short ropes. "You've been a disobedient little brat."

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him being kidnapped would do that to a person.

Too much talking.

"What's that for?" I ask instead.

"I won't put you in a trance for purely selfish reasons. Because I want you lucid while I fuck you. And I won't spank you since you haven't lied." He tosses the vibrators on the bed beside me, and I flinch. "My issue is, none of the words coming out of your mouth are ‘Fuck me, Marcus . ' "

The threat in his voice is enough to silence me. I shiver as he slides an arm under my back, hauls me up and slips the rope between me and the bed. He crosses it over my chest and under my back again. Does the same with the other rope so the two of them create an X shape on my body.

His eyes flick to mine, reading the questions and accusations in them.

"I can't make you come if you're doubting me, little doll. For your own sake, I need you to come. This tight, virgin pussy needs to be wet enough to take my thick cock." Marcus sets one vibrator on my right nipple, tightens the rope over it, and ties it off at the side of my body. "You should be thanking me. I'm doing this for you."

He repeats the motions with the left nipple.

I do nothing to stop him.

My mind knows I should put up a fight. Thrash my body like a madwoman to stop the madman towering over me.

Deep down, though, dark and sick desires stir to life. That thing has been dormant for years. With Marcus touching and degrading me, it's come to life. It pushes past the cage where I've been keeping it locked down.

It responds to its new master.

Marcus.

I lie there, immobile, as Marcus finishes strapping the vibrators to my nipples.

"Good girl." The praise is gritted behind clenched teeth while his fingers work. While they flick on the vibrators at my nipples.

He calls it pleasure. I call it hell.

Doesn't matter what we call it. They get the job done. I shut the hell up, grunting against the intense pleasure .

"Hold still." He pushes me down with a hand on my stomach. "Yeah, just the way you are. You're learning."

I'm not learning, I'm freaking forced . This is a never-ending onslaught of arousal. A fucking sensory assault.

I'm floating and drowning all at once. A lot like I have when he—

"Get that out of your head, Leighton. I said I'm not hypnotizing you tonight, and I won't. All I do is tell you what to do and you…" Smooth knuckles run along the side of my face. He's almost affectionate. A sentiment I can't appreciate since I'm about to fucking come. "You're such a good girl to obey me."

My breaths are short and laden with desire. My clit flutters, my juices soaking the sheets.

"Are you ready for me to go down on you?"

I shake my head subtly. I don't want him anywhere near me. I want the man I remember back, not this fucker.

Liar , I hear his voice in my head. You need him.

I wish I could blame it on the vibrators. That too, would be a lie.

Oh my God, I'm all wrong up there. I'm crazy just like him.

I deserve this.

"Too bad." Marcus lets my lie slide. "I'm eating you out anyway. Your pussy belongs to me. Has been for fucking years, plaything."

Even from his place between my legs, the man sucks out the air out of the room .

His eyes are black diamonds. Lips full. Jaw strong with the slightest shadow in his day-old stubble.

His forearms are corded, biceps bulging. His chest tight and broad.

The sculpted muscles on his formidable six-foot-three look lethal. He could hurt me. He could kill me.

Yes, I saw them before. Saw the six-pack on his stomach a million times in the pool over the years.

But everything looks so different now.

His strength used to mean safety. Meant to protect Rylan and subsequently me.

I don't feel safe anymore.

Just turned on. I'm so turned on I'm hurting.

It gets worse when he lowers himself to the floor. When he shucks off his briefs.

He strokes his thick length in slow movements, squeezing the head.

"Fuck," I grit out as my orgasm hits. I come so hard I can't breathe. I bite my bottom lip, stifling the sounds my throat emanates.

He doesn't get to hear me orgasm. He doesn't get to fuck me.

The bed dips as he climbs back on it. He pushes my legs farther apart. The vibrators' buzzing sounds and my choked breaths are hellish background noises.

Except I'm not suffering. I still need him. Every piece of me latches on to Marcus who's on all fours now.

"I'm going to kiss you there. "

There's innocence when he does exactly that. Kisses my sensitive clit.

He's trying to confuse me.

I'm proven right when he talks, reminding me exactly who he is. "When you come again, little doll, you better scream."

His fingers spread me; his mouth closes on my clit. He doesn't kiss anymore. He sucks me. My body freezes. The mind-numbing sensation is too much. I don't know how to fathom what he's doing to me. Too good. Too bad. Too fucking fast.

"You taste so sweet," Marcus says, his breath lighting my hypersensitized skin on fire. "So quiet. So perfect."

He's back on my pussy, assaulting me. Marcus alternates between sucking my clit, laving his tongue on my lips, and going lower to plunge it into my pussy.

The vibrators on my nipples are heaven and hell combined. The pain of his fingers on my thighs takes me to places I've never been able to go when I rubbed myself.

I'll give him my obedience. I'll let him mess with my head and turn me into this submissive girl who does as he says. But I won't come a second time.

I won't come. I won't allow him to see how he affects me, I won't—

"Ahh!" I make a sound that doesn't sound like mine. It's torn. Pitiful. Needy.

I'm fucking howling.

My lungs scream for air. A white-hot light explodes in my belly .

My body floats even higher. Only it doesn't, not really. Marcus digs his fingers deeper into my flesh. He's bruising me, pinning me to the bed. His demanding mouth is a reminder I'm still here. Still with him.

Still a captive.

Last week. Go to last week when he was kind. When he didn't convince you that you're sharing his sickness.

"Do not run from me." Marcus drives two fingers into me, prolonging my climax. "This orgasm is mine. You don't get to hide it from me. You don't get to fucking regret it."

"I do," I groan so he won't hear the tears choking me. "I'm mortified."

"We'll take care of that." Marcus removes his fingers from my pussy. He crawls up the bed, bracing his arms on either side of my head. "I'll teach you to love this version of me. After all, I have you to thank for coming undone. You've woken this side of me."

My legs and arms work in unison, shaking against the restraints. Rattling the metal bars I'm tied to. When nothing budges other than the vibrators dropping to the mattress, I scream. The little amount of air I have left transforms into a loud screech.

Marcus's expression grows feral. His lips twist in a snarl, and he presses his cock to my entrance.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask a second time tonight, not sure which this exactly I'm referring to.

"For many reasons, little doll." He parts my lips and pushes the blunt crown of his cock into me. "You're beautiful when you're this helpless. How you're mine to do with as I will. How you're my possession."

"You're wrong," I claim. But just because I don't scream doesn't mean I stop squirming. Moving. Maybe a little more and I'll break free. "This is wrong."

"See if I regret it." He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it. "After being selfless for years, I'm fucking done."

"No," I whisper, wanting him and loathing myself for it.

"Baby." The softening of his voice softens me in an instant. Makes me stop squirming. The possessive grip he has around my throat awakens parts of me that I'm too scared to acknowledge. "You're mine. I'm in pain when we were apart. It's only fair that now you hurt like I have. That you share my pain."

Not an ounce of fight is left in me. I lie there, gazing up at this fierce man I fully recognize yet don't know in the slightest.

Marcus, on the other hand, vibrates with energy. He tilts his hips back, sliding his cock out of me. This slight reprieve ends fast the moment he thrusts into me.

His dick tears through my hymen while his fingers flex on my throat.

"Fuuuck." His head hangs low, strands of his hair falling on his forehead. "Your pussy, Leighton. Your fucking pussy."

My eyes are wide, my lips parted. I don't think I'm breathing. Maybe I'm not.

I'm surviving. That's what it is. Surviving the bomb detonating in my belly. How good it is. How I don't want to want this .

How this is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

"Do you feel me?" Marcus slants his lips against mine. "Feel what you're doing to me? Feel what I can do to you ?"

His dick throbs inside me. Swelling, stretching, forcing. He drags his hips back, thrusting into me once more. Just as cruelly. Just as deep and even deeper until his pubis rubs my clit.

This isn't something I should enjoy. This shouldn't be good for me.

I shouldn't feel proud for making Marcus lose his mind. Or getting off on it.

I shouldn't. I have to do everything to stop these…feelings.

Refusing to play into his hands—into his brainwashing—I twist my head to the side. Away from his lips that taste of both him and me. Far from his beautiful eyes.

I close my eyes, dreaming of the man I used to love.

"Oh, fuck no." The monster grabs my chin, demanding that I look at him. His eyebrows scrunch together, gaze murderous. "I thought I was clear before. Your eyes are my eyes. Your attention is mine. This is my virginity I'm taking, and you'll be here for every second of it. You'll be right here with me."

"I didn't ask for it," I scream. "You can't make me enjoy it when I fucking hate you."

Marcus quirks a challenging eyebrow as he pulls his cock out of me. He slides a hand to the back of my neck, angling my head up to see where we're connected .

His cock is soaked. My blood coats his menacing girth, visible even in the dim light of the bedroom. But this isn't just my hymen. My arousal is there. There's no use denying it.

Like there's no use denying how I crave for him to bury himself in me again. How he's not forcing me to want him.

"I told you"— slam —"not to"— pull out— "lie to"— slam harder —"me."

My back bows like a guitar string for him. The ropes around my wrists and ankles singe my already chafed skin. Marcus's invasion hurts. He destroys me.

In a depraved, sick kind of way, he also completes me.

"See?" Each ruthless pound into my pussy lifts me higher. He's forcing me into enjoying what I swore I wouldn't. "Things are so much easier when you're honest. When you admit to what we've both been denying ourselves for so fucking long."

The moment my brain drifts to our past, Marcus plants his lips on mine. He kisses me as ferociously as he fucks me. His teeth sink into my bottom lip like I'm his meal to devour.

"Stay with me, Leigh." He takes one of my breasts in his mouth, letting it out with a pop. "Or I'll be far less forgiving on your other holes."

"What you're doing is wrong." My voice is breathy, my moans breaking through my words.

"There's nothing more right than this." He grips my face, squeezing my cheeks. "We've been denied of this and I'm done. Done letting you go. You belong to me. Admit that you want the same thing I do. Fucking say it. "

"Before I found out you were a psycho, maybe." I seethe. Another orgasm builds inside me, sneaky and ruining the resentful front I put up. "But here we are. You don't even love me. You're. Just. A. Psycho."

"Obsessed. Possessive. Motherfucking territorial." Marcus lets go of my face to assault my clit with his fingers, his forehead glued to mine. "Not a psycho. I am not—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, and it's all my fault.

I'm fucked in the head to orgasm from the things he's saying to me. From imagining what could be more painful, more delicious than being kidnapped, hypnotized, and fucked against—most of—my free will.

The intensity of my second climax pulsates through me. Shaking me to my core.

The screams Marcus commanded me to give him barrel out of my lungs, my unleashed desires taking the shape of my needy cries.

My situation is far worse than plain wrong. It's the worst.

It's the best.

No.

"That's it." Marcus drills harder into me, making me one with the bed. "All that emptiness you were feeling when you came by yourself? Those days you missed me? When you peeped into my room?"

I'm so high, I don't even have it in me to be ashamed of having been caught. I stare into his black eyes. My body is already addicted to him, begging for another hit. Just a small one to prolong the best and worst climax I've had in my life .

"Never again, Leigh." True to his word, Marcus gives me everything. His strained expression tells me he's close, but he's holding on. For me. "You'll never be desperate for my cock again. It's yours now. I'm all yours now. And you'll learn to accept it. You'll learn to need me."

He grunts with each thrust, and I want to hate it. Except it vibrates out of his chest to mine, rattling me from the inside out. Dampness brims in my eyes when I realize I fall harder for him.

Fuck no .

"You can make me come. You can take my virginity," I whisper. "You'll never have my soul. I will never love you. Never."

"Is that so?" He crushes his lips to mine, his tongue invading my mouth.

I pinch my mouth shut, my lips gripping his tongue, stopping him. Trying to, at least.

Anger reverberates in his growl. He slams his cock into me ruthlessly, coaxing my mouth open as he does.

He kisses me into submission, and eventually, I do. Because it does feel good. Because I do need it.

Because I haven't been kissed like this for as long as I've lived.

He possesses me. Consumes me. And I bend for him. I respond, kissing him back. Fighting him, hating him, but still kissing him back.

We're explosive together. Meant to be, regardless of what a sick, manipulative man he is.

What is he doing to my head ?

"Good girl." Marcus's lips are swollen, his eyes are wildly intense coals. "You're getting there. I'm going to fill your womb with my cum for being such a good girl."

"You won't," I say, my voice hoarse. "I'm on the pill."

His hand is firm on my jaw. "Shut up, little doll."

He comes just then, and I'm quiet, watching him in awe. No. Not awe.

Hate.

Love.

"Beautiful girl." Marcus breathes heavily, resting his warm body on top of me.

My eyes find him. My Marcus is in there. There's the cruel man in him and then there's him. I'm sure he's there. I need him to be there.

"Will you let me go now?" Don't sob, don't sob. I will not sob. "You got what you wanted, right?"

I'm not sure what scares me more. If he won't let me go or won't want me to stay.

Marcus's reply is a harsh glower.

"I won't tell anyone. I swear."

"Leighton." He kisses my forehead. "Why would it matter if you told anyone? You're mine. That's what couples do. They have sex. They stay together."

The way he says it. He's not giving me a choice. Will I ever leave here?

Or worse. My mind races back to the question from before.

Will I die here ?

I'm twenty-two. I have a whole life ahead of me. A job waiting for me. Friends who love me. This isn't the end. Can't be.

"Please, I'm afraid, Marcus." The stupid restraints stop me from curling into a ball. I'm tired. I'm terrified. "You scare me."

"You still don't get it." An ominous hint seeps into his voice. "You will, though. We'll work together until you do. Until you get it into your head that you're mine. I'll never give up on you."

"No, no." My head shakes, heart hammering. "Please, Marcus. Please, don't kill me."

"Of course, not. I'll never kill you. Killing you means you'll leave me. You're never leaving me." Determination changes his expression. He's even more unreachable than before. "Listen, I understand it's a lot to take in. For tonight, I'll allow you these few hours to do some soul searching. By yourself."

He doesn't say the word that would put me in a state of trance. Marcus keeps me completely aware. While I'm still bound. Then, he stalks out of the room.

Maybe it's for the best. Maybe he'll come back tomorrow as the Marcus I remember. This Marcus is hot in all the wrong ways. He's sexy and horrible and he'll never let me out of here.

The other one is safe. The other one is home. He'll let me go.

"I'm back, beautiful." He walks toward me, a cloth in his hand. Surrounded by an aura of violence, madness and overwhelming strength. "Can't leave you like this now, can I? "

My jaw drops when he sits at the edge of the bed, parting my legs. He pushes some of the cum back in and I don't resist.

I'm on the pill, fucker. I took one this morning, and it should keep me safe. I don't want his kids.

Liar.

He uses the wet cloth to dab my inner thighs. My marked pussy. The cum and arousal dripping down my crack. He applies care and attention to every move.

I almost feel loved.

I would've too. But I'm not that delusional.

"Why bother?" I hiss.

Why bother when eventually you'll murder me, chop me into pieces, and store me in the motherfucking fridge?

"Why?" Marcus tilts his head, dark eyes staring at me in question. "I won't leave you in this mess without cleaning you up. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

I won't be fooled.

I'm not loved.

I am not loved.

He's obsessed with me. He'll hurt me.

I…

"Please."

Please what? What am I asking him?

Don't leave me? Let me go? Stay? Get the fuck out?

Marcus examines me. His well-trained psychiatrist eyes try to make sense of what he sees in me.

There's nothing there. Nothing to see. I don't have one coherent thought floating in my head.

He's not sticking around for me to figure it out, either .

Marcus turns away, pulls on his briefs, bends to pick up a pair of cotton pants and a T-shirt off the floor, and shrugs them on. In maddening silence, he takes his vibrators, then stands. Watches me.

"Good night," he grunts, gathers his stuff, and leaves.

In the dark, when I'm alone, a thought that makes my skin crawl rises to my consciousness.

Would it have really been that terrible if I asked him to stay?