Chapter 36 Holland
HOLLAND
The world tilted. Not because I believed him—but because some part of me had feared this exact moment.
And still, even now, with that word hanging in the air like a guillotine, all I could think about was how he’d held me when I was shaking, how he’d looked at me like I was worth saving.
Was that love? Or was it just the kind of devotion trauma breeds when two people bleed beside each other for too long?
I didn’t know.
But I wanted to know.
I wanted to choose him. Not because he’d saved me, but because he saw me. And right now, that was more terrifying than any bloodline.
I stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “What?” I backed away and covered my face with my hands, the weight of his words slamming into me like a bolt of lightning. “Why would you say something like that?”
Kip’s shoulders sagged, every sharp line in his expression etched with defeat. “Because my mother … Lily … she was involved with some dangerous people, Holland. One of them helped her orchestrate your kidnapping.”
The pain on his face cracked something open in my chest. “About a year ago, that man came back into our lives. We don’t know what he wants yet. We’re trying to figure it out.”
“Can I ask who?” I wrapped my arms around myself, chasing away an invisible chill.
His gaze locked onto mine, his jaw tight. “You can’t repeat this to anyone. Pretend I’m your patient, and this is protected under confidentiality. If you breathe a word, it’ll put you in real danger. This man makes Draco look like a fucking saint.”
“You have my word,” I whispered.
Kip stood, running his palms down the front of his jeans like he needed to ground himself. “He goes by the name ‘the Pied Piper’.”
The air shifted.
My head dropped as the name echoed through my chest like a curse. I looked up, butterflies tearing through my stomach like shrapnel. “Why would you think we’re related?”
He swallowed hard. “Because my mother used to date him.”
A sharp, broken laugh escaped me, brittle and unhinged. It felt like my sanity was hanging by a single, frayed thread. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, stepping closer. “That’s just … no. We’re not related, babe. We’re not brother and sister.”
His brows pulled together, confusion darkening his features. “How do you know?”
“Lily told me today that the Pied Piper is my biological father.” I blinked, swallowing down bile.
All this time, I thought Ally and I were bound by blood—sisters in every sense.
But we weren’t. We had different fathers.
The man who destroyed my life had created me.
“But my mother—my real mother—she’s dead.
Apparently, she betrayed him and he had her killed. Then he and Lily sold me.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
Kip’s arm snaked around my waist, his fingers digging into my side like he needed to anchor himself to the truth. “Are you sure she’s dead? That Lily’s not your mother too?”
I shook my head. “We look nothing alike. And as much as I hate her, I believe her. She twisted the knife too well for it to be a lie. She enjoyed it too much.”
I hesitated. “But are you sure your dad isn’t the Pied Piper?”
“No hesitation. No doubt. My dad died in a car accident when I was five. I remember him. He wasn’t a monster—he was quiet, kind.
Not long after he was gone, my uncle showed up and forced his way into our lives.
Years later, I found a paternity test hidden in one of my mom’s locked drawers.
It proved my dad was my biological father. The Pied Piper isn’t related to me.”
Relief hit like the first second of air after a fist to the ribs—violent, messy, and clawing at my insides.
“Then we’re okay,” I whispered. “We’re not related.”
His mouth crashed down on mine, possessive and raw, and I melted into him like gravity had chosen him as my center.
“You’re mine, Holland. I don’t just want you.
I need you. I need you wrecked and raw, your pussy juices dripping down my cock, my name the only word you can remember.
I’ll devour you, mind, body, and soul, until there’s nothing left for anyone else.
Only you, shattered, stitched into my soul.
Look at another man, and I’ll burn his goddamn world down. Then I’ll fuck you in the ashes.”
My pulse skipped, heat tearing through my veins. I leaned into him, feeling the hard press of his cock through his jeans.
“Then make me forget there ever was a world before you,” I whispered. “Use me. Break me. Just never stop needing me.”
A low growl escaped his throat as he kissed me again, possessing me with an urgency.
He slid his hand up my back and to the nape of my neck.
His fingers dug into my skin before he wrapped my hair around them and pulled my head back.
His lust-filled expression turned my entire body to liquid heat.
Kip leaned down, scooped me into his arms, and carried me to the bedroom. He sat me down.
“Do you remember the night you took the Ambien?” His words were low, raw, and filled with need.
“Some.”
“You nearly came for me as I called you my little whore. Your cunt was dripping wet as it greedily fucked my cross.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip, my thighs clenching.
“Little ghost, you’re a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” My tongue darted over my lips, still feeling his mouth crashing on mine.
“Take off your clothes, little ghost.”
I stood and slowly removed my top and jeans. His attention raked over me as I stood in front of him in my bra and thong. Sliding my bra straps off my shoulders, I undid the clasp and let it drop to the floor.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to fuck those gorgeous tits.”
As far as I was concerned, this man could fuck me any way he wanted to. I was his to do with as he pleased. I slipped my thong over my hips and down my legs before I stepped out of it.
“On your knees.”
I walked over to him, then knelt before him, waiting for his next command. He leaned forward and grabbed my chin hard enough to make me gasp from the pain.
“I put you on your knees, not to beg—but to belong. There’s no god here but the one who makes you come.”
Unable to speak, I nodded. Kip leaned back and unbuttoned his jeans before he lowered his zipper and freed his large cock. I stifled my moan, ready to suck him until he came in my mouth.
“You’re not safe with me, little ghost, but you’re seen.
And I would rather die than let anyone take that from you again.
” He stroked the back of my hair, his words penetrating deep inside me.
Kip was the only man who truly saw me for what I was.
The darkness that consumed me, the thirst for more, the desire to get blood on my hands and stand by his side.
“Open.” He stood and rubbed the head of his cock against my lips.
I did as he said and he grabbed the back of my head, holding me still as he shoved his entire length into my mouth, choking me.
“That’s it, Holland. Don’t pretend you’re okay for me. Don’t filter the rage, the scars, the nightmares. I want it all. The pain. The darkness. The wreckage. Because those are the pieces that make you mine.”
My eyes glistened, but I didn’t cry. Not yet. I just welcomed him like a confession.
He slid his cock in and out of my mouth until my jaw ached from the size of him. My fingernails dug into his thigh, leaving red marks on his skin. I might be his, but he was also mine, and I would mark him too.
“Your hot mouth feels so good. Such a good girl taking it all.”
He smoothed my hair, his dark gaze trained on me as I ran my tongue along his shaft. I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked as I sucked and licked.
“Jesus,” he said quietly. Kip stepped away and pulled out of my mouth. I wiped the trail of saliva from my chin and waited for his next command. He continued to watch me as he reached up and tugged his necklace, freeing the cross.
“Get on the bed and spread your legs.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry with the idea of what he was about to do to me.
From what he’d said, I’d loved it when he’d fucked me with his cross, but I’d been asleep and didn’t remember much, only the feeling after the fact.
My belly flip-flopped as I crawled onto the mattress and parted my legs for him.
“You're wet just thinking about what I’m about to do to you, aren’t you?
Your tight cunt is dripping wet, ready for me to do with as I please.
” He knelt in front of me and then took the cross and ran it up the inside of my thigh.
Kip leaned in, his breath grazing my center.
With his free hand, he gently spread me apart, then ran his tongue over my swollen clit.
A soft whimper escaped me as he dragged the crucifix up my leg until he reached my pussy. He pressed it against my entrance, the cool metal causing me to jump.
“Are you nervous, little ghost?”
“A little.”
With a wicked gleam in his eye, he pushed the cross inside me, slowly. My gaze widened as he slid it in and out. The ridges of the metal sent pleasure rippling through me, and I gasped.
“Oh, god.”
Kip chuckled. “He’s not here, but your monster is.” He released the cross and stepped back. “Fuck yourself with my cross. Let me watch your tight cunt take it all in.”
He sat back down as I took control and pushed it inside me, then pulled it out again.
My body trembled as it reached new places inside me.
My lips parted as I allowed myself to fully give in to the pleasure.
I pumped it faster while the whole world fell away.
The only thing that existed was the sharp, searing edge of the crucifix, the hungry pulse of my cunt, and the way Kip’s eyes set me ablaze with each thrust.
He looked at me, unmoving for a moment, cock in hand.
He stroked himself slowly, deliberate—never breaking that dark, devouring eye contact.
I fucked myself shamelessly with his cross, whimpering as it hit a spot inside me that made my toes curl.
The metal was slick with my arousal. Each time I pulled it out, another string of wetness clung to it, and when I pushed it back in, my hips rose off the bed like I was begging to be filled even deeper.
“Look at you,” he rasped. “Sainted. Desecrated.”
The deep, hard pressure of the cold steel worked me into a quivering mess. My hips bucked off the bed, straining for more of it, more of him, because all I’d ever done was reach for the next damn thing I was told I couldn’t have.
Through the haze of sensation, I watched Kip. He stroked his cock slowly, torturing himself as much as me. The cross was slick, and it slid in more easily every time. I wanted to be ruined like this. I wanted to know what it was like to be split open and worshipped at the same time.
“Harder,” he ordered, his command low and mean. “If you can’t fuck yourself properly, I’ll do it for you.”
I shuddered and obeyed, pushing the cross in deep, as far as it would go, feeling my cunt flutter and clamp around it, greedy, insatiable. My clit throbbed so hard it was almost painful, and I moaned, louder than before.
He leaned in, his voice a growl against my ear.
“You look so fucking pretty like this. So broken and so hungry.” He yanked the cross from my hand and left it inside me, then bent over and sucked my clit between his lips, tongue flicking mercilessly as he fucked me with the cross, punishing and relentless.
I jerked, grabbing his hair, dragging him closer. I rode his tongue, the ozone scent of holy things turned sacrilegious.
“Say it,” he commanded, never letting up, each thrust of the cross synchronized with each suck on my clit. The pleasure built and built until I thought I’d die from it.
“I want you.” My confession was raw and desperate. “I want you to fucking break me.”
“That’s my girl,” he praised. “You’re not allowed to break unless it’s for me. You hear that? I own the pieces of you.”
Without warning, Kip grabbed my thighs, yanking me to the edge of the mattress. The cross slipped out and landed on the bedspread. He lined himself up and shoved his cock inside, so hard I cried out. Pain and ecstasy braided together, almost too much, almost perfect.
His hands locked on my hips, and he thrust into me so hard I nearly screamed.
I barely adjusted to the size of him, the stretch and fullness, before he was pounding into me, chasing his own darkness, pushing me into the mattress. I wanted it all. The pain. The bruises tomorrow. The way he’d leave his mark on me from the inside out.
He fucked me punishingly, each thrust relentless, owning every inch of me. He grabbed my throat, squeezing until my vision blurred, and I clawed at his wrist, desperate for more, not less. My hand flew to my clit, two fingers rubbing fast and frantic as he drove into me.
“That’s it. Take it,” he growled. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I cried, and he squeezed tighter, forcing the words from me like a confession wrung out in a church confessional. “I’m yours, Kip. Fuck. Please.”
“Good girl.”
“You want to come, little ghost?” He found my hair, twisted it tight, and bent my head back so I looked up at him, helpless and pinned and desperate.
“Please,” I whispered.
With a grin, he pulled out and slapped my pussy with his cock, hard enough to make a wet sound. “Earn it,” he said. “Beg better.”
I let go of all remaining pride. “Please, Kip. I need you. Fill me up, ruin me.”
He shoved back inside and fucked me even harder, his rhythm brutal. At the last moment, he pulled out and pressed the crucifix against my clit. The cold metal made me scream, my whole body locking up, and my release so intense black dots danced before my vision.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and I did, meeting the wildness in him.
He kissed me hard, teeth clashing, and when he bit my lip, I tasted blood, and the world spun. I was a live wire, burning through every nerve ending.
He let go of my throat and snaked his hand between us, rubbing my clit with two rough fingers, forcing another orgasm out of me. I broke against him, tremors racking through me as I came again, my vision turning white at the edges. He fucked me through it, cruel and perfect.
Kip watched me shudder and writhe, then pushed deeper into my spent, spasming cunt and finished with a guttural moan, flooding me until I felt full to the brim. He stayed there, forehead pressed to mine, breathing shallow and ragged.
After a long minute, he withdrew. His warm and sticky cum leaked out of me, and he smiled with proprietary pleasure as it smeared down my thigh.
“You’re so much better awake,” he said softly, almost kindly. “Stay with me, Holland.”
I didn’t know if he meant the moment or forever.