Chapter 23 – Magnum
Chapter Twenty-Three
Magnum
She wants me dead. Damara calls me every name under the sun, but she can’t help the fact that I tied her up and won’t allow her to leave until she confesses that the bond that exists between the two of us goes much deeper than the contract.
Her pink hair lies in a frazzled mess around her as she continues her failed efforts to struggle and fight.
I want to untie her, but I can’t. Not until I hear exactly what I want to hear from this wild cat.
“Stop calling me names and tell me what I want to hear.”
“Suck my farts.”
“That’s not the correct answer.”
She won’t get under my skin with such juvenile insults.
I pace back and forth in front of Damara, giving her time to take in the view and readjust her opinion on the situation.
She glares at me but says absolutely nothing.
I need her to admit her love for me, that everything we’ve built together means something.
“Magnum, I need you to let me go,” she asks calmly.
“No.”
“MAGNUM!” she screams out angrily. “I’m not playing around. This is a violation of my freedom, my basic human rights, and I’m pretty sure at this point, it’s a violation of the contract.”
“You love me, Damara.”
Her body trembles with rage and she looks like she’s experiencing every emotion except love right now.
Doesn’t bother me. I don’t expect Damara to love me all the time.
But who does she reach for in the middle of the night?
Me. Just like I reach for her. We might not have come into each other’s lives in the most conventional ways, but we’re here.
We can’t fight the future. She’s having this baby and we’re bound to each other for life. We might as well get started with honesty.
“I don’t,” she says, her voice stony and cold as she struggles to hold back all her emotions from me.
It won’t work this time. I have the strength to keep her tied to the bed and fight against her stubbornness until she lets me into her heart.
I don’t care about the assholes who hurt Damara before.
If she needs me to kill every last one of them to trust me, I’ll do that.
I just need to know that she loves me. I need to hear those words and to get the truth from her. We’re building something here – something real.
“So you expect me to believe you didn’t try to run away at least once because of some ridiculous contract? I know you, Damara. If you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be here.”
She might love me, but right now Damara also wants to kill me.
“Why do you need some type of confession, you sicko? Isn’t it bad enough that I’ll be trapped having your kid the rest of my damn life?”
“And I’ll be trapped with a baby mama who runs around with pink hair and her ass hanging out the back of her shorts 24/7. We both have problems.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair or my ass.”
“That doesn’t stop either of those things from being a problem,” I tell her. “Now confess, or your punishment will just get worse.”
I fully intend to escalate things.
“How could it possibly get worse than this?” Damara pushes me. “I think I’ll keep doing what’s working for me.”
But she still wants freedom judging by the way she keeps fighting the binds that keep her attached to the bed. Damara gets me so angry… and hard.
“I can make it worse.”
“Then do it,” she says. “But I’ll never confess to a downright lie.”
She doesn’t mean it.
“You’ll change your mind when I pull out my tattoo needle.”
“I’ve been through every inch of this house. You don’t have a tattoo needle.”
“Trust me, miss pink hair, you can’t predict what I have in this house nor what I have in store for you.”
“Great. Tattoo me. I’ll survive whatever lame ass butterfly tramp stamp you want to put on me.”
I laugh. “Tamiya is your sister and you know just as well as I do that her tattoo has nothing to do with butterflies.”
My dick jerks at the thought of tattooing the words ‘Property of Condom’ on Damara’s skin. The lesson about ownership this will teach her could change her behavior in the right direction for once.
“You’re not going to trigger me with a rose tattoo either.”
Is there a chance she has no idea? Could she possibly know this many bikers and not know that we all tattoo some explicit demonstration of our ownership over the women in our family.
It’s just as much for their protection as for our peace of mind.
A man can’t claim he didn’t know a woman was yours if she has your name tattooed right above her ass cheeks.
“This is your last chance to save yourself, Damara. Once I stencil in the outline, there’s no going back.”
I never thought I would feel the dark possessive urges that I do to put my name on Damara’s ass cheeks. Or maybe above her ass cheeks? The rush I get just from choosing where to tattoo my name is almost enough to make me cum. Damara appears to need more convincing.
When I leave the room, I consider how much time I would need to be gone to truly scare her.
Five minutes? An hour? I search my office for the tattoo needle and equipment, listening as Damara strains through her binds and curses out loud a few times, calling me inventive new slurs based upon my race and hairiness.
Tattooing my signature on her thigh might be a better idea, considering how likely Damara is to use those legs to kick me and run away.
By the time I return to the bedroom, my cock prevents me from any further hesitation.
I walk back into the room to see Damara’s pink hair stuck to her neck with sweat.
Continuing to fight like a wild animal in my absence tired her out, but I’m not convinced that Damara is through with fighting her desires for me. I don’t see what’s so wrong with falling for me.
I approach her wordlessly, scanning Damara’s body for the perfect spot to tattoo my signature on her. I might upset her with my plans this time, but at the end of it, she’ll see that I mean what I say when I tell her that I love her.
Her silent loathing glare pushes me over the edge and I force her to engage with me.
“Where do you want it?”
“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me,” Damara hits back quickly,
“Don’t flatter yourself, Damara. I won’t be giving you my cock until you confess how you feel for me.”
“I won’t be the one missing out,” Damara says, lying through her teeth and going out of her way to push my buttons in a way she hopes will bruise my ego significantly.
“Don’t act like you don’t love feeling my pierced dick inside you. It won’t work. Would you rather I tattoo above your ass or right here on your thigh?”
My hand brushes the top of Damara’s thigh.
It’ll be easy enough to hold her down so I can ink her skin but inscribing the word Condom on her skin there feels wrong somehow.
Damara already lacks trust in me – which she shouldn’t, considering I’m not the one responsible for our situation – but tattooing a taboo word on an easily exposed part of her skin might piss her off more than necessary.
If I want her to believe that I love her, I’ll have to show it.
“You aren’t tattooing me anywhere,” Damara says, grunting as she fights more aggressively against her binds and even starts gnashing her teeth around like a little raccoon. What the fuck? I’d better work quickly before she turns into a beast right in front of me.
Using one hand, I flip Damara over onto her stomach, twisting her arms around while she shrieks so that it will be much harder for her to move.
The back of her thigh might be an even better place for me to leave my mark…
and it’s close enough to her ass that I’ll get to watch my mark on her while she walks away from me.
Decisions, decisions.
“This can all end with one little confession, Damara…” I murmur, even if at this point, I’m lying through my teeth.
Whether she confesses her love for me now or never, Damara belongs to me and by the end of the night, I will tattoo my name on her body.
She’s carrying my child, right? I’ll have the rest of our lives to earn her heart.