Chapter 21 Sadie
SADIE
I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep when strong hands grip my arms, yanking me to my feet. My mind struggles to catch up as Landon drags me across the room, his fingers digging into my flesh. His mask is back in place, giving him that devilish look.
“What—” I start, but he cuts me off by slamming me against a cold marble pillar. The impact forces the air from my lungs.
His eyes glitter dangerously in the dim light. “I’m going to fuck you right here,” he growls, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.
I twist against his grip. “No, Landon, stop—”
I recognize the challenge lighting his eyes, the way his pupils dilate when I resist. This is the game we’ve fallen into, the dance we both crave. He wants me to fight, to say no, so he can take me anyway.
“I said stop,” I repeat, kicking at his shin.
“And I said I’m going to fuck you. Right here, against this pillar, while you struggle.” His voice drops lower. “While you pretend you don’t want it.”
I buck against him, trying to twist free. “Let me go!”
“No.” The word is final. His hand slides between my legs, finding the wetness there that betrays my desire.
I can’t help the moan that escapes me when his fingers circle my clit. The contradiction is intoxicating—saying no while my body screams yes. This is what I need, what we both need. The illusion of force, the pretense of taking, when we both know it’s freely given.
“Please,” I whisper, but even I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop or continue.
Landon’s grip tightens on my wrists as he holds me against the pillar. The cold marble presses against my back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His mask remains firmly in place, hiding half his face, giving him an impersonal, dangerous quality that makes my pulse race faster.
“Stop fighting,” he growls, but we both know he doesn’t want me to.
“Get off me,” I spit back, my voice laced with false venom. I buck against him, the friction only intensifying the ache building between my thighs.
He tears at my remaining clothing, fabric giving way under his strong hands. The cool air hits my exposed skin, raising goosebumps across my flesh. Through it all, his mask remains in place, making him seem more predator than man.
“You’re mine to take,” he says, voice like gravel.
I struggle harder, slapping at his chest. “I said no!”
With a single brutal thrust, he’s inside me. Pain and pleasure collide, tearing a cry from my throat. He gives me no time to adjust, hammering into a rhythm that grinds my back against the pillar with every stroke.
“Tell me to stop,” he challenges.
“Stop,” I gasp, even as my body clenches around him, welcoming each savage thrust.
His laugh is dark and knowing. “I’ll rewire your nervous system until no translates to more in your vocabulary.”
I claw at his shoulders, maintaining my performance of resistance while I’m overcome with shudders of pleasure. The mask makes him anonymous, inhuman—a force of nature I’m helpless against. Not Landon, but an untamed beast.
“I hate you,” I pant, my legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord.
“Hate me all you want,” he grunts. “Your cunt fucking loves me.”
And it does. Despite my protests, despite my struggles, I’m racing toward the edge of oblivion in his arms.
Landon’s breath is hot against my neck as he pins me harder against the pillar. My wrists ache from his iron grip, but the pain only intensifies the electricity racing through my body. I struggle against him, twisting and writhing, my resistance making every sensation sharper, more intense.
“Stop fighting me,” he demands, though his eyes tell a different story. They’re alive with hunger, drinking in my struggle.
“Let me go,” I gasp.
He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “I like it when you fight me,” he admits. “When you struggle and resist even as you take my cock so perfectly. And I know you like it too, little butterfly.”
The truth of his words burns through me. I can’t deny it—don’t want to deny it. This dance of resistance speaks to the part of me I’ve always feared but can no longer hide from, not with Landon.
I turn my face away. “I don’t,” I lie.
“Lie all you want, I know the truth,” he growls. “Your body can’t lie to me.”
I renew my struggles, pushing against his chest, trying to twist from his grip. “I said stop,” I insist.
“No,” he says simply, tightening his hold. “I’m going to take what’s mine.”
And he does, mercilessly, while I maintain my pretense of unwillingness. Each thrust feeds the twisted fantasy we’ve born together—his of conquest, mine of surrender without choice. The violence of our passion surges, becoming beauty and ruin bound together.
Landon’s grip tightens on my wrists as he thrusts deeper.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he demands.
“I don’t want this,” I gasp.
“Your mouth says no, but your pussy’s fucking begging for it.” His rhythm slows to torturously slow strokes. “Say it again. Tell me no while you cream all over my cock.”
“Stop,” I whisper.
“You don’t get to decide anymore. Your body belongs to me now.”
I struggle against his grip. “You can’t just take what you want.”
“But I am taking it.” His fingers dig into my flesh. “And you’re giving it to me. Feel how wet you are? That’s your body surrendering.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” He shifts angles, hitting a spot that makes me see stars. “See? Your body knows what it needs.”
“Fuck you!” I spit, even as pleasure builds.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing to you, little butterfly.” His pace quickens. “My perfect little slut.”
The degradation sends a forbidden thrill through me. “I’m not your slut.”
“No?” His hand slides between us, fingers finding my most sensitive spot. “Then why are you about to come on my cock while begging me to stop?”
I bite my lip.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say ‘I’m your slut, sir’ while you pretend you don’t want me to fuck you.”
“I won’t—”
He withdraws almost completely. “Then I stop.”
“No!” The word escapes before I can stop it.
His smile is victorious. “No, what? No, don’t stop? Or no, you’re not my slut?”
I turn my face away.
“Look at me and answer,” he commands. “What do you want?”
I stare into Landon’s eyes, trapped between the cold marble at my back and the burning heat of him against my front. The question hangs between us, demanding an answer I’m terrified to give.
“I want...” My voice catches
His grip tightens on my wrists. “Say it, Sadie.”
“I want you,” I whisper, the admission torn from somewhere deep.
“As what?” His hips push forward, reminding me of what I’m missing. “Tell me what you are to me.”
The words sit heavy on my tongue. I’ve never been this person—never wanted to be owned, possessed, reduced to someone’s plaything. But with Landon, these degrading words feel like freedom.
“I’m your slut, sir,” I finally confess.
His smile is triumphant. “Again. Louder.”
“I’m your slut, sir,” I repeat, the words sending a shameful thrill through my body.
“Good girl,” he growls, rewarding me by driving forward again. “Now say it like you mean it.”
I gasp as he establishes a brutal rhythm, each thrust punctuating his dominance. “I’m your slut, sir,” I cry out, no longer caring who might hear. “I’m your fucking slut, Landon!”
He releases my wrists suddenly, and my arms fall to his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles. Despite my freedom, I don’t push him away. Instead, I pull him closer, surrendering to what we both know I’ve wanted all along.
“See? Was that so hard to admit?” He asks.
I shake my head, beyond words as pleasure builds inside me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he takes what belongs to him. Because I do belong to him now—at least in this moment, in this twisted fantasy we’re creating together.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his pace becoming erratic. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, and for the first time since this began, there’s no hesitation in my voice. No resistance. Just truth.