Chapter 29 Landon
LANDON
Icarry Sadie through my penthouse; her unconscious weight feels satisfying against my chest. The sedative keeps her pliant, helpless—exactly how I need her to be right now.
Her head rests against my shoulder, dark hair spilling over my arm as I push open the door to my bedroom with my foot. The space is minimalist—black sheets on a platform bed, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and nothing else to distract from what happens here.
I lay her on my bed, her body bouncing slightly against the mattress. The sight of her splayed across my sheets hits me with an intensity that hardens me instantly. My cock strains painfully against my zipper, demanding release.
“Look at you,” I whisper. “So fucking perfect.”
I start with her shoes, removing them one by one and placing them beside the bed.
A switch flips inside me. The careful restraint I maintained during the Hunt dissolves. This is my territory. My rules. No cameras. No brothers. No witnesses.
I rip her pyjama top open, buttons scattering across the floor. The sound of tearing fabric fills the room. I grab a knife from the drawer beside my bed—custom-made, razor-sharp—and tear her pants down her legs, leaving her in nothing but scraps of lace.
“This is what you wanted to see,” I growl. “The monster within.”
My hands shake with need as I tear away her underwear. The sight of her completely naked on my bed triggers my need to mark her, claim her, and break her.
My blade catches the light as I hover it above her skin. With surgical precision, I trace it along her collarbone, not cutting, just letting her feel the cold metal.
The tip of my blade presses into her skin, just below her collarbone. A single drop of crimson wells up, beautiful against her pale flesh. My breathing quickens.
“Mine,” I whisper, dragging the knife in a deliberate L-shape.
Blood beads along the line I’ve drawn, deep enough to scar permanently. She whimpers softly, eyelids fluttering, but the sedative keeps her unconscious. I press harder for the horizontal line of the L, watching her face contort with pain.
“You wanted to see the real me, little butterfly,” I murmur, shifting to start the B beside it. “This is who I am.”
The B takes longer. I carve each curve with deliberate care, my cock throbbing with each soft sound she makes. When I finish, I sit back to admire my work—LB—stark and red against her skin. Blood trickles down the curve of her breast.
I lean down and press my lips to the marks, tasting copper and salt. The metallic flavor floods my mouth as I kiss along the cuts, my tongue tracing each letter I’ve carved. Her blood marks my lips, and I’ve never felt more alive.
“Perfect,” I breathe.
My kisses move lower, across the soft swell of her breast, down to her stomach. Each inch of her is mine to explore, mine to claim. I take my time, savoring the taste of her skin, the way she arches toward my mouth despite the drugs in her system.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I pause to look up at her face—peaceful in sedation, unaware of what’s happening. I spread her legs wider, positioning myself between them.
“Let’s see if your body remembers me,” I say, lowering my mouth to her center.
I lick a long, slow stripe through her folds, groaning at her taste. Even unconscious, she responds to me, growing slick against my tongue. I devour her, mapping every inch of her pussy with my mouth, claiming this part of her, too.
I play with her with my tongue, feeling her thighs tremble as her arousal coats my lips. My little butterfly, wings pinned to my mattress, body writhing under me.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them against that spot that makes her back arch off the bed. Even sedated, she can’t fight the pleasure. Her walls clench around my fingers as I suck her clit between my lips, applying enough pressure to push her over the edge.
She comes with a soft, helpless moan, her body shuddering beneath my mouth. The sight of her—completely at my mercy, pleasure washing over her unconscious form—nearly undoes me. My cock throbs painfully against my zipper, demanding attention.
“Look what you do to me,” I growl, rising to my knees between her spread thighs.
I unbutton my pants, the rasp of my zipper loud in the quiet room. My cock springs free, hard and heavy in my hand. Precum beads at the tip as I stroke myself once, twice, looking down at her.
I lean forward, dragging the head of my cock through her slick folds. The contact sends electricity up my spine. I gather her wetness, coating myself in her arousal, sliding between her lips without entering her. The sight of my cock glistening with her come makes me groan.
“Mine,” I whisper, rubbing myself against her swollen clit. “Every fucking inch of you.”
I continue to slide against her, painting her with my precum as it mixes with her arousal. The temptation to thrust inside her unconscious body overwhelms me, the idea of her waking up with my dick in her cunt—where it belongs.
I can no longer hold back. The twenty-five hours away from her broke the last thread of restraint I had left.
“I’m taking what’s mine,” I growl.
With one brutal thrust, I bury myself to the hilt inside her. The sensation is exquisite—her cunt yields completely, wet and tight around my cock. I groan as her walls stretch to accommodate me, her body remembering what her mind can’t in this drugged state.
“Fuck, little butterfly,” I pant, withdrawing slowly before slamming back in. “This is where I belong.”
I establish a punishing rhythm, each thrust harder than the last. Her breasts bounce with the force of my movements, blood from my carved initials smearing across her skin. The sight drives me wild—my mark on her, my cock inside her, everything about her completely mine.
“I tried to be gentle during the Hunt,” I say between thrusts. “Tried to ease you into this. But you wanted the monster, didn’t you?”
Her body responds even while asleep, growing wetter around me as I pound into her. I grab her hips, lifting them off the bed to drive deeper, hitting that spot inside her that I know makes her fall apart.
“Wake up,” I command. “Wake up and feel what you do to me.”
As if obeying my command, her eyelids flutter. A small moan escapes her lips—different from before, more conscious. The sedative is wearing off. I increase my pace, determined to have her fully aware.
Her eyes snap open, widen suddenly, pupils dilated with confusion and the lingering effects of the drug. She gasps, body tensing around my invading cock as awareness floods her system.
“L-Landon?” she chokes out, voice raspy and disoriented.
I don’t slow my assault, driving into her harder as recognition dawns in her eyes. “There you are,” I growl, watching the haze of sedation give way to a state of shock. “Feel me inside you? This is what happens when you push me too far.”
Her hands fly up to my chest, whether to push me away or pull me closer, I don’t care. She’s awake now, conscious of every brutal thrust.
“Stop!” Sadie gasps. “Landon, stop!”
I don’t slow my rhythm, watching her face as confusion battles with arousal. Her pupils are still dilated from the sedative, but there’s a dark hunger there that mirrors my own.
“No,” I growl, wrapping my hand around her throat.
I apply enough pressure to make her eyes widen, to make her pulse throb against my palm. Her breathing grows shallow as I tighten my grip. The power is intoxicating—her life literally in my hands as I fuck into her relentlessly.
“You don’t want me to stop,” I say, watching her pupils blow wider. “You’re just as twisted as I am, Sadie. That’s why we fit so perfectly.”
Her nails dig into my forearms, but she doesn’t try to remove my hand from her throat. Instead, her inner walls clench around my cock.
“I saw you watching my video,” I continue, loosening my grip enough to let her catch her breath. “You slammed that laptop shut the moment I started to unbuckle my belt. Not because you were disgusted—though I’m sure part of you was.”
I lean closer as I thrust deeper. “You were jealous. Seeing me with another woman made you crazy. You couldn’t bear to watch me touch someone else the way I touch you.”
Her eyes flash, and I know I’ve struck a chord. The truth of it is written across her face.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I challenge. “Tell me you didn’t imagine yourself in her place, my knife carving into your skin instead of hers.”
Sadie moans at that, making me sure she’s even more perfect than I had ever imagined. So perfect for me.
My girl.
The sound of her moans vibrates against my palm where it rests on her throat. A moment of clarity hits me as I realize this isn’t just lust anymore. She’s exactly what I’ve been searching for—someone as broken and twisted as I am.
“There it is,” I whisper. “The truth.”
I slow my thrusts, dragging my cock almost completely out before sliding back in. The need to savor this moment—the moment she stops pretending to be normal.
“You’re not so innocent, little butterfly,” I tell her, watching emotions war across her face. “You’ve been drawn to my darkness from the beginning. You crave it.” I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers as I continue to move inside her.
“I knew it the moment I saw you,” I confess. “You hide it well behind careful words and stoic expressions, but you’re just like me.”
She licks her lips, holding my gaze as if in a challenge.
“Don’t hide from me. Not anymore. I see you, Sadie. All of you.”
Her breath catches, eyes widening at the honesty in my voice. For a moment, the monster in me retreats, leaving an almost tenderness in its place.
My girl.
Finally mine.