Chapter 12

M y head whips back around. He’s closer now. So close, panic sets in.

I scramble away, crawling like a terrified, injured animal, and Darian follows behind, his shoes clapping on the marble.

The dress gets caught beneath my knees, and I fall forward.

“There’s nowhere to go, Mrs. Delacroix.”

Masculine laughter bounces off the walls as I slide beneath the bed to escape Darian’s sinister mood. Still, he’s faster, grabbing me by the ankle and dragging me back out, my skirt riding up in the process to expose my silk panties.

I try to crawl away again, but Darian fists my hair and pulls me farther into the room before dropping me onto the floor.

“Sinclair smells nice, does he?” He downs the last whiskey, then throws the tumbler at the wall, and I yelp when it explodes into countless shards that spray everywhere.

“He’s a good dancer?” Swiping the whiskey bottle from the bar, he storms over to me.

I try to crawl away again, but he flips me over onto my back and puts the sole of his shoe on my chest to keep me down. I can barely breathe; the look in his eyes is unlike any I’ve seen. Unhinged.

He tips the bottle and pours whiskey on my face, waterboarding me to his heart’s content. I splutter and cough, eyes squeezing closed.

My thighs snap together as panic fills my veins. I thrash, terrified and aroused. Fucked up beyond saving and in need of more of his toxic jealousy.

I make him this way. I make him feel possessive, deranged, and out of control.

“Are you ready to apologize yet, baby?” Offering me a reprieve, he lifts the bottle.

I gasp for breath, my lungs burning. “Fuck you!”

He takes a swig of alcohol, then tips the bottleneck again. “Suit yourself.”

Whiskey splashes over my face and eye mask. I buck and squirm on the floor to get away, but his boot digs into my chest. It goes on forever. Or so it feels. When the bottle is empty, one of the Pawns hands him another.

Just as I think I might pass out, he stops again and stares down at me with a wicked smirk. His pants are tenting, and his long, thick cock looks delicious. Unfortunately, I’m too busy coughing up a lung to appreciate the view.

Before my coughing has subsided, he grabs me by the arm and hauls me toward the four-poster bed. He lifts me effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing, holding me upright with one hand on my arm. With an impatient flick of his wrist, he gestures to one of the Pawns, asking them to hand over a set of handcuffs attached to their belt.

“What are you doing?” I ask croakily, my nerves ratcheting another level.

He secures me to the pole and slowly slides down the zipper of my dress. A cool breeze from an open window brushes against my back as I attempt to glance behind me, but I can’t see him or the Pawns. With a sharp tug, he tears the dress the rest of the way, leaving it hanging in tatters around me, and then he removes my panties, so I’m left in just my bra and heels.

Whimpering, I yank on the handcuffs.

“Do you like what you see, gentlemen?” Darian asks the Pawns from somewhere behind me.

“She’s beautiful, sir.”

Darian strokes his big hand over my hair, and when I plead with him to let me go, he shushes me before addressing the Pawns. “Spank her raw.”

Fear latches onto my heart, and I rattle the handcuffs again. “No, Darian, no. Please, don’t let them do this. I’m sorry.”

Agonizingly long seconds pass until heavy footsteps drown out my frenzied panic, and I tug hard on the handcuffs. It hurts, but I’m too high on adrenaline to truly feel it.

One of the men grabs my hair and stares at me through a creepy beaked duck mask.

A hard slap lands on my ass, causing me to cry out, and laughter whips my skin as I try to find Darian in the room. He’s leaning against a wardrobe, hands in his pockets, his intense gaze on me.

Another hard smack connects with my burning ass cheek, and I fall forward against the pole. More slaps follow, brutal and degrading, as I drown in Darian’s eyes.

Behind me, the men laugh, alternating between squeezing my ass cheeks and smacking them hard enough to cause my knees to buckle.

Darian smirks, and my nipples ache from that hungry look alone, but then another brutal slap steals my breath, the insides of my thighs sticky with arousal. I throb all over, yearning for Darian to unleash the restrained monster lurking in his gaze.

As I watch, he unzips his pants and shoves his hand inside his briefs to stroke his hard erection.

I don’t feel the smacks anymore, and my ass is no longer burning; it’s ice cold with pain instead and a roadmap of handprints. Yet they keep spanking me and degrading me with their cruel laughter.

A deprived part of me loves every second because it has set something sinister loose in Darian’s eyes. Something that’s circling and preying on us.

My inner walls clench as his hand moves inside his briefs. He wets his lips, his heavy-lidded gaze intense, before reaching into the back of his pants to pull out a gun. I can barely process what’s happening when he fires two shots, blood spraying over my bare back, warm and coppery.

The men drop to the floor.

I tremble, staring down at them over my shoulder.

Darian palms my numb ass. “Such perfection,” he whispers, sliding his thumb between my cheeks, chuckling softly when I tense up. He then presses the barrel against my temple before trailing bites and licks across my shoulder, his breath brushing against the curve of my neck. “Are you ready to apologize now, or do more people have to die first?”

“I’m sorry…” My voice shakes as much as my body.

“There’s a good girl. It isn’t so hard to keep that pretty mouth in check, is it?”

One of the men is still alive, groaning on the floor and clutching his bleeding chest. The bullet went straight through him.

Darian picks up my panties off the floor, walks over to the dying man, and stuffs his windpipe with the silk fabric. He straightens up and watches me observe the Pawn. I’ve never witnessed such a prolonged death before.

The Pawn’s wide, terrified eyes lock on mine, and I pulse in forbidden places as I watch the life drain from him.

I’m sick for liking this.

Darian slides a pocketknife from his pants and then proceeds to strip the men naked and remove their genitalia. It’s gory and gruesome and utterly fascinating.

When he’s done, he puts the severed cocks on the bed for me to see, but I’m more turned on by his blood-soaked, veiny hands.

“Don’t say I don’t bring you trophies. You better enjoy this moment, because it’s the closest you’ll ever get to other dicks.”

“You’re sick.”

Stalking up behind me, he yanks my head back by my hair, smiling like a villainous monster from my worst nightmare. “Don’t you think I can see the lust in your eyes? How horny you are?”

Before I can respond, he rams three slick fingers into my mouth, assaulting me with the coppery taste of blood and gore, and a moan escapes my lips as liquid heat pools between my legs.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he praises. “Suck them clean. Show me what a depraved little thing you are.” Biting my earlobe hard enough to make me yelp, he whispers darkly, “That smart mouth is good for more things than talking back, isn’t it?”

I’m desperate for friction, so I rub my ass against his straining erection, begging wordlessly for more. The severed cocks on the bloodied mattress have tingles dancing over my bare skin. It scares me how far he’s willing to go where his darkness is concerned, but it also excites me.

As he removes his fingers from my mouth, I chase them for another taste. “Please,” I beg. “I need you inside me.”

With his big hands on my hips, he fucks himself on me, his fingers twitching as he teases me with his hardness.

“Please put it in me,” I plead, shivering with desire when he rolls his hips and grinds his erection against my soaked pussy.

Why does he have to torture us like this?

“Do you enjoy looking at the cocks?” he asks, releasing my hip and circling my throbbing clit. “Do you imagine them inside you?”

I bite down on my bottom lip as an orgasm washes over me, and then I rock back against him, moaning loud enough to wake the dead corpses on the floor. Darian’s touch turns rough, and I come again with a scream.

“Do you want to suck on dead men’s cocks?”

I shake my head, clinging to the pole the best I can while he continues rubbing my too-sensitive clit. “Why are you torturing me like this?”

“Answer the question, Mrs. Delacroix.”

“No,” I choke out between gasps. “The only cock I want to suck is yours.”

“Good answer.” He shifts behind me, and I feel his bulbous crown press against me. “Hold on to the pole.”

I do as instructed, and then he impales me on his big cock.

My lips part in surprise. Darian is large and powerful—overwhelming. His hips rock against me at a relentless pace, the sound of his belt clinking. I moan softly, my nails digging into the pole. Fuck, I’ve never felt anything this good. Never been this cock drunk before.

“Harder, Darian,” I beg, my pussy rippling around him. “Aah, yes!”

“You like it hard, huh?” He slams into me, and I fall forward. “You like being my little cum bucket, baby? A warm hole for me to sink my dick into?”

“Yes!” I admit, moaning, my aching tits straining against my bra, and he palms one, squeezing it hard enough to hurt.

“You should see your red ass. I love pounding it while it has other men’s handprints on it, but don’t ask me why. It’s fucking insane how mad you drive me.” He bites my neck like a feral animal, his cock pulsing inside me.

His groans of pleasure trigger another climax, and I moan his name as I tighten around him. Darian’s thrusts slow, and he grinds his cock deep, holding me tightly, as if he never wants to let me go.

As soon as he pulls out and steps away, his cum trickles out of me.

I attempt to catch my breath while he makes a quick call to a cleanup crew, but I feel too weak to stand, so I cling to the pole for support. My fingertips tingle from the tight cuffs, which isn’t a good sign, but I don’t mind. Exhaustion washes over me with my next breath, and my head feels heavy.

I’m vaguely aware of Darian removing my handcuffs and scooping me into his arms.

I’d open my eyes and say something if I could, but my body won’t obey. I’m floating in a sea of cardamom and tonka bean.

Warm lips press against my damp forehead. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”