27. Colton
Chapter 27
Colton
I ’m almost afraid to blink. Luella lies sprawled across the bed, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep, the exhaustion of this twisted game finally silencing her potty mouth. I lean against the footboard, my eyes glued to her. There’s something intoxicating about watching her like this—vulnerable, serene.
The voices creep back in, hushed whispers slithering through the corners of my mind, stirring my thoughts.
This is your chance. She’s right there, within your reach. Own her, Colton. Make her truly yours.
I clench my jaw, biting back the sharp retorts I know will only fuel the darkness.
You know you want to. Imagine sliding into her soft, wet cunt, they continue to tease me. To urge me to hurt her again.
Fuck!
I roll my neck, feeling the weight of their demands pressing against my skull. I resist them. I can’t let the dark part of me dictate my actions. Not now when I want control over this situation. Not when I want her to choose me.
You raped her. You dragged her back in here by her hair. She’ll never choose you. The voices seem to cackle at me, and I close my eyes.
I turn away from her, but the sight of her sleeping form pulls me back. So helpless, so beautifully broken. What a difference she is to that fierce, crazy bitch she is during our fights. The way she struggled against me—each tug at the cuffs ignited something inside.
I shake my head, needing to distance myself from these thoughts before they spiral. I’m tired—tired of the incessant whispers, tired of the constant fight within me. The shower is calling, a brief reprieve from the chaos tumbling in my chest.
The water cascades down like a waterfall, washing away my exhaustion, my confusion. Each drop hits my skin, making me vow to tread cautiously. I’m so deep in this game of shadows and power struggles—I can’t afford to lose myself.
With a sigh, I lean my forehead against the cool wall, allowing the hot water to drum against me. Maybe it’s time I put my focus back on Luella, not just as a captive, but as something more. But I can’t do that while she fights me. No, I’ll have to break her.
Only for me though.
When I step out, the room feels eerily quiet, the kind of silence that feels almost stifling. I drag a towel over my body and return to the room, heading back to the bed. I throw on my pants as Luella still lies there, oblivious, tangled in dreams and shadows of her former life. The sight of her sends a jolt of energy through me and straight to my dick.
I’m fucked up, I know. But I don’t care.
At least for once the voices are silent. I’m grateful for that. But I wonder...what would it feel like to own every part of her, to make her completely and irrevocably mine? The voices rise again, echoing through my mind.
You could claim her now, while she’s helpless. She wouldn’t resist.
They’re right for once. My dick twitches.
I pull back the covers, each movement slow and deliberate. My heart pounds in my chest—what am I doing? Every rational thought warns me to step away, but my hands begin to explore her unguarded skin as if drawn by an invisible force. This is what she does to me. She draws me to her even when she doesn’t want to.
Her lips part slightly, releasing an airy moan that crawls under my skin and commands something deep within me—desire, lust, urgency. I curl my fingers in her hair, trailing them lightly down her neck before tracing a path along her collarbone.
But she doesn’t wake. Her body responds instead; a soft sigh escapes her, and her heart thrums harder against my palm.
This is wrong , my conscience screams, but I don’t care. I’ve already raped her, what’s this going to do? She already hates me. So, I press on, compelled by the need to possess her even as she sleeps, especially without her knowing.
I lean closer, inhaling the sugary scent of her skin.
Fuck.
I slide down the bed a little further, my hands daringly moving lower until they find the hem of her shirt, hesitating just before slipping beneath. She squirms slightly at my touch, my pulse racing with the thrill of seeing how her body reacts to me.
In that moment, everything else fades—the game, the voices, the feeling of darkness constricting around my throat. Just her, just us, consumed in this moment of madness. The world outside is forgotten. I brush my thumb along her hipbone, loving the warmth radiating from her skin, and my heart races even faster. This isn’t mere control; it’s something deeper, something that pulls at the threads of who I am and what I could be.
With every caress, Luella stirs; the way she moves sends a bolt of heat coursing through me. God, she’s beautiful like this—lost in her dreams, unaware of the chaos brewing outside of her mind.
God, I want to own her.
I slide my fingers beneath her shirt, brushing over her skin, feeling her response to my touch. It ignites something dark and wild in me, a hunger that forces me to push further.
I stare at her hands, handcuffed together at the headboard, down to the ropes holding her legs apart.
It’s like I planned this. But I didn’t, so that means its destiny.
I can’t help but indulge. She’s mine, isn’t she? I can do whatever I want.
As I dip lower, my fingers explore the curve of her waist. She rolls towards me slightly, her body naturally seeking mine, and I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t wake up.
I need to make sure she doesn’t.
I slip off the bed and head to the kitchen, finding the Chloroform. I don’t have time for Rohypnol, plus I’d need to get her to drink it.
Fuck it. I douse a rag with it, my dick straining to get out of my pants.
You’re the same as him, the voices tell me, but I’m too far gone to care.
I return to the bed, holding the rag doused in Chloroform over her swollen mouth and nose, as she begins to wake up. I press down harder as her eyes meet mine. I hold it there until she stops fighting, watching as the Chloroform takes over, and my doll falls back onto the bed limply.
Beautiful.
I take my time taking the handcuffs and ropes off her, deciding that I prefer her like this rather than tied up. I want to be able to manipulate her body, and I can do it so much easier like this.
Why doesn’t she just give in to me? She’s fucked me enough times. She wants me.
Is it because I’m his son? That thought fills me with rage. I’ll fucking show her.
I lean in closer. The urge to claim her, to mark her as mine ripples through me. Everything feels amplified—the beating heart in my chest, the heat radiating between us, the fear of her waking up. It’s anyone’s guess how long she will be out, so I can’t take my time.
My favorite thing about Luella is how she denies what’s between us, how her body drips with need for me, yet she fights me like a hellcat. Let’s examine that little trait now, shall we?
Without conscious thought, my mouth finds her shoulder, kissing the soft skin there. Even like this—covered in blood and mud, she smells divine. Her natural scent drives me fucking crazy.
I pull back just enough to drink in the sight of her—the way she’s asleep, each measured breath a reminder of the power I have in this moment. The world fades, and it’s just me, just us.
And I’m in control.
I can’t help it; I dive back in, my mouth trailing along her skin, moving to her breasts.
Colton, the voice inside me whispers again , warm yet predatory, urging me to push further. Take her.
I shift her to the middle of the bed, throwing her clothes aside so I can see her in her natural beauty.
Fuck me.
I can smell her sweet cunt from here, so I start my feast there. I lift her legs in the air, tugging her body so I can bury my face into it. My tongue roughly enters her, and I groan, wishing she could feel this. I squeeze her ass cheeks as I get my fill, my dick dangerously hard as I eat her cunt. She trembles beneath me, and I continue, easing her back to the bed as I finger fuck her tight hole.
Her tits bounce with my thrusts, and I can’t resist fucking her any longer. I stare down at her, her cunt juice coating my mouth and chin as I wonder how to take her first.
Missionary. I want to kiss her.
Such a romantic, the voices sigh as I part her thighs.
Her cunt glistens, swollen and pink but oh so inviting.
She wants you.
She does.
I line up with her entrance, jerking my dick against the opening as I moan. Just the tip, fuck, it’s deadly. But then I can’t stand it anymore, and I raise onto my palms, watching as my dick slides home in one thrust.
She doesn’t move, and I’m fully inside of her.
I still, my breath hitching as I savor the moment, the heat and tightness enveloping me. This shouldn’t feel as euphoric as it does.
“God, you feel good,” I mutter, driven by a primal need to possess her completely. My fingers dig into her hips, holding her firmly as I start moving—slowly at first, letting myself get lost in how perfect she feels around me. I lean forward, wanting to inch closer to her face, to see if she’ll respond even in her unconscious state.
The warmth of her body beneath me is intoxicating. The friction builds a fire inside, and I press deeper, harder.
“Give in, Luella,” I whisper as I thrust again, my voice barely audible over her soft breaths. “Let it happen.”
There’s a part of me that revels in the illusion of control, in the way I can bend her body to my will while she lies there, blissfully unaware. It’s sick; the deeper I go, the more I feel the tightening grip of satisfaction. My mind races—what am I doing?
You’re fucking what’s yours.
I shouldn’t be doing this. But the hunger inside me won’t stop, no matter how much I fight it. What would she think if she knew how twisted I am? Would she ever forgive me? Of course not. I’m beyond redemption, but I can’t stop.
I focus on the intoxicating sight of her beneath me. I want to mark this moment, imprint it in my memory—an act of claiming, of ownership. I thrust harder, feeling her body welcome me deeper.
I’m too fucking close to the edge, my thrusts growing frenzied, the rush overwhelming my senses. I can feel the tension building, an electric energy crackling between us. Each move sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through me, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy.
“God, yes,” I groan, clawing at the remnants of sanity I have left. I can’t stop, don’t want to stop, driven by an insatiable desire to explore every inch of her, to drown any remnants of her fight within me.
Her body curves sweetly beneath mine, a perfect fit, and I give in to the primal urge that whispers to drown her in pleasure, to erase her struggles beneath my weight. Every thrust feels like an assertion of dominance, a claim over the life she’s fought so hard to escape, and yet here we are, locked in this moment of chaos and dark intimacy.
As I push deeper still, a harsh truth cuts through the haze—this isn’t just about possession, but also a reflection of my own insidious craving for control. She’s not just a toy to play with; she’s my fascinating twin flame.
Even asleep, her body reacts to me, drawing me closer, urging me into this deepening darkness. I pull back only to drive forward again, relishing the sensation of slipping in and out, grasping at the familiar tether of pleasure layered beneath the harshness of reality. I can’t help it.
I lean down, pressing my lips against her throat, my body rocking against hers in a feverish rhythm. My voice turns hoarse, filled with need and a hollow sense of regret that only fuels me further. “You should hate me, but you don’t. You’re still here with me. I?—”
A strangled breath escapes me as I peak, her body still motionless beneath me. I fill her sweet, warm cunt with everything I have, the sensation overwhelming as my hips slow, the euphoria of the moment beginning to trickle away.
I stare down at the sight of my throbbing dick buried deep inside her soft, wet cunt. I’m captivated by her breath, the contrast between her vulnerability and my desire sending shivers down my spine.
I’m so fucked for this girl.