Chapter 26 Amber
Amber
Cal thought he’d seen all my scars just because he's seen every inch of me.
He doesn't have the faintest clue about what dark thoughts lie in my head.
He doesn't know that by asking him to fuck me like he hates me, he wins over my mind.
I can sense it the minute he throws the remains of our dinner to the ground, struts across the distance to me, and slams me down on the table.
If this is his hate, then I'm as safe as my body has felt all along.
“Why do you want me to be a monster?” He growls, his lips pressing against my throat as he kisses me hard.
A monster would use his teeth to bite into my throat as he fucks me, but that's not what Cal does.
He doesn't wait for me to answer, slamming my hands above my head and pinning them there under the weight of one hand.
He uses his other to move the skirt of my dress over my thighs, exposing me to the cold air.
It assures me that I'm wet, already soaking at the thought of him fucking me hard, taking what he wants, and using me like he hates me.
Hate is better than indifference. It's better than everything I've ever known— men who thought they cared about me but who probably haven't even wondered where I went.
Men who were supposed to love me but left me to rot.
Men who I wanted to love but could never manage to feel anything for.
It's why I could care less that Cal has fucked me in ways my brain can't even imagine.
It should feel wrong, disgusting, but it doesn't because somehow, he's always made me feel cherished.
That's not how I want to feel now.
Now, I want to feel his pain so I don't have to think about my own.
“You are a monster.” I gasp as he slams one hand over the inside of my thigh, spreading me wider for him.
It's not for the reasons he thinks.
It's not because he bought women on the internet. It's not because he killed the woman before me. It's not because his brother slipped off a roof when he was a child and that's somehow led to him believing he was meant to be a murderer.
Cal is a monster because he's oblivious to the hell other people bring to the world.
When I told him about the rats and the snakes, he listened, but he seemed more horrified by the prospect of 'murdering' his brother than he did by the actual act of murdering someone.
Whatever his disconnect is, it comes from somewhere in his childhood.
.. maybe from his apparent hatred of his sister.
“A monster who makes your cunt wet.” He growls, and it's the most unhinged I've heard him sound yet. His composure is gone, the indifference nowhere to be seen, and I've never wanted anyone so desperately. If he's a monster, then what does that make me?
He strokes my slit, without any real pressure, so I lift my hips to help guide him. There's no question about what I want... what I need.
“So do something about it.” I challenge him, breathless with the need that's invading every cell of my body, constricting my lungs.
He rises to the bait, sinking his fingers inside me without warning or warm-up. He's right that he makes me wet. I practically invite him deeper when I moan my relief. It's temporary, though. I need more from him.
“You're a killer, Cal. Why are you fucking me like you're afraid to break me?”
He could do it easily, and I'd probably just let him. I may even thank him when he's done, because he may just break me better than everyone before him.
“This is a dangerous game, little doll,” he purrs.
I know that. As much as my body tells me I'm safe with him based on our relationship to this point, I know there's something sinister in him. But there's something sinister inside of me too. Something that may come out with a little bit of coaxing.
“Danger makes me feel alive.” I tell him. “If you don't feel alive, what's the point?”
I've had opportunities to end it all... myself, him. I've lain awake for hours thinking about it. But the truth I don't tell him is that I was as good as dead before he brought me here.
He fished me out of hell, and while he thinks he has me in a hell of another kind, he hasn't even come close.
That's all it takes, apparently. Because I tip him over the edge with that, and then there's no stopping, even if I wanted to. And I don't want to.
His fist tangles in my hair, and I leave my hands right where he left them, curling my fingers in the air like I can grab hold of my soul before he runs off with that, too.
I don't take my eyes off of him as he lines himself up and sinks deep inside me, like he's trying to see whose determination can crack first. It's definitely mine, because having him inside of me this deep makes me worry I'll be empty again once he's gone.
“Fuck me.” I gasp, begging him to do something other than just soak in my warmth.
He breathes slowly, and when his eyes sharpen, I get the first sign of whatever beast he's been so afraid of. I think I should be afraid of him, too, but I'm not.
“Do you have a death wish, little doll?”
I think I must, because my pussy clenches at the hardness of his words and the venom in his tone.
I take my eyes off of him for the first time since asking for this, turning to appraise the mess we made of our dinner date.
Whether he knew it or not, Cal wanted seduction.
I want devastation.
The steak knife lies atop a jagged piece of plate just near my head. If I reach for it, I can grab it.
Cal's hand closes around mine just as soon as my fingers wrap around the hilt.
“You gonna hurt me, little doll?” He sneers.
I don't fight his grip as he forces it to my throat, and I fucking wilt. Can he feel it—my resolve shattering?
“I'm not fucking scared of you.” I sneer right back, harnessing a venom of my own that I didn't even realize I possessed.
“You think that steak knife is any match for me?” He laughs, eyes hard as he seems to remember he's still buried inside of me.
He pulls back before slamming into me again.
His hips rock against me, deepening our connection as he twists the knife, letting the light from above our heads glint against the surface.
He's right that it's small. It would hurt to cut yourself with, sure, but it's not enough to be a murder weapon.
“No.” I pant, and maybe it sounds anguished because he smirks, like he thinks he's teaching me some kind of lesson. “I think you could destroy me if you wanted to.”
The blade bites at my throat just enough that I feel the serrated edges against my skin. Cal was right. This is a dangerous game. I'm calling him on his bluff without even being entirely sure myself.
“Is that what you want?” He grunts, slamming into me again like he'll destroy my pussy instead.
“No.” I lie. “I want you to fuck me harder. If this is what your hate feels like, baby, you're not a monster. You're nothing but a coat hanging in the closet, shadows in the night…”
I think, for a second, that he's going to drag the blade across my throat to try and shut me up. Instead, he flings it across the room.
I don't pay attention to where it goes because he grips my throat in the next second, and this time, I see it. The thing he swears is there, the reason he thinks he's so fucked up. The beast that lurks beneath the surface has finally come to play.
“I can be your fucking nightmare.” He growls, squeezing hard enough that I feel the air being pinched off around me.
My chest burns with the sudden removal of oxygen.
I want to tell him he can't be my nightmare, because that position is already taken. But I can't get any air to my lungs, so when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
“Oh,” he smirks. “Have I finally shut you up?”
I've never let anyone choke me during sex before, and I don't think he's doing it right. It's exactly what I wanted, only now my brain is flooding with fear and the world is blurring, everything getting fainter.
His thrusts become harder, faster, and sloppier as he loses himself inside me. I can’t grab hold of anything to help myself focus, and I think my eyes are starting to flutter as the fear of being choked to death disappears. A second later, he pulls his hand from my throat and his cock from my body.
I gasp at the sudden return to oxygen, choking on air as I try to get it to my lungs.
But the recovery is brief, because he stands, yanks me across the table, and shreds my dress in two.
When I focus my gaze on him, I see his cock still hard and red. It looks almost angry.
I don't get a chance to think about it before he grips my hips hard and flips me so that I have to slam a palm against the marble to keep my head from taking its place.
He doesn't spare me any mercy as he pins my hips to the edge of the table, my toes just barely touching the floor, and slams inside me so hard I cry out.
Fucking hell, the places he's reaching inside me...
Tears burn my eyes at the stretch, my body trying to invite more of him inside even when he's up to his balls already. I feel them slap against my ass, and for one awful moment, I'm back in the truck. For one awful moment, I'm not the one who brought us to this point, and panic flares inside of me.
I remember the hands holding me down, Parker’s blood seeping onto my fingers, and the sticky, disgusting burn I still feel in my core if I think too long about it.
But then I feel Cal’s lips on my cheek as he yanks my head toward him, arching me back so that he can bury himself deeper. It pushes the pressure lower, ensuring there’s no escape.
“I don't hate you,” he huffs, slamming inside and pausing so that he can make sure I heard him.
He's doing a good job pretending. I had to force it out of him, but it's here. This beast, the animalistic part of him that he tries so hard to hide from me.
The thing is, he wants to hide it from me so that he can convince me I'm safe.
I wanted to lure it out so I could tame it.
And as he finds a cadence to fuck me to, I think maybe I succeeded.
It's brutal and violent and perfect.
It's everything I wanted, and even more, it's everything I needed.
“But I wish I did.”