Chapter 10
DOVE
At first, I dream of the room.
I feel the metal clamp around my ankle, the stinging razor burn on my scalp. I smell my own urine and the stench of rotting wood coming from the moldy walls.
I hear the muffled, gagged sobs of my friend in the next room, and the rhythmic thrusts of our captor as he ruts into her.
I taste my tears, mixed with the bile rising in my throat as the scream I don’t have the strength to release dies in my mouth.
This isn’t a rare nightmare. I have it all the fucking time.
But I’m numb to it at this point: no longer a terrified victim, just an apathetic observer. Like I’m watching a horror movie that I’ve seen a thousand times.
I know the monster is behind the door. I know who dies first.
I know how it ends.
It ends with my father’s men kicking in the door, too late. Lark is already dead. The madman who’s kept us here has also been cooking meth in the bathroom, and one of my father’s men’s bullets has ignited the chemicals..
The fire is consuming the building, about to bring the roof down on my head just as the Marchetti soldiers shoot the monster.
Slowly, like morning mist evaporating from a frozen lawn, the dream melts away and another one takes its place.
I’m used to one nightmare rolling into another.
Sometimes, after I revisit that house of horrors, I get to live the first few days of heroin detox all over again.
Or psychotherapy, relaying my trauma to strangers who study me like a monkey in a zoo.
Or any number of hellish nights I stumbled my way through—strung out, drowning in my survivor’s guilt.
All while trying to remember who the fuck I am.
But this time, the next dream is different. There’s no nightmare. No trauma. No doctors or needles or hating myself while I load my next hit.
This time, it’s warm and sensual, sending ripples of heated electricity sizzling across my skin and heat pooling between my legs as my hands grasp the sheets.
My breath catches, my hips rise and fall. My legs spread wider, wanting more more more as I feel fingers plunge into my pussy, stroking against my g spot.
Fuck.
Yes.
I moan, not even recognizing the sound as coming from my own lips as I writhe beneath the rough, demanding touch. The fingers stroke in and out, curling deep, a strong palm grinding against my needy clit as I whimper and beg.
“More,” I mewl softly into the dream ether. “Give me more.”
Other fingers drag up my body, sliding over my breasts. They circle and then land on a pebbled, eager nipple, twisting and pulling and roughly pinching in the way my body craves and always responds to.
Pain. Fear. Danger. Domination.
The four fucked-up horsemen of my apocalyptic pleasure. The ones that make me squirm and writhe.
The ones that make me wish I was capable of actually coming.
Maybe I could orgasm in the Before Times. I mean, I had a boyfriend, Scott. I know I was on birth control, because I found a pack of pills tucked behind some books in my room a month or so after I was rescued. So I’d been having sex.
I just don’t remember if I came.
I certainly haven't ever since my ordeal. I can bring myself close…so close that I can taste it. But it never happens.
Even in goddamn dreams.
I whimper, feeling my walls squeeze tight around the fingers roughly thrusting into my cunt. The ones pinching my nipple mercilessly drag across to the other side, viciously twisting it too as I cry out a wrenched sob of pleasure.
The hand pushes higher, over my collarbone, up to my neck and jaw. Fingers push into my mouth, thrusting across my tongue. They start to plunge in and out, fucking my mouth in time with the ones fucking my pussy.
Everything is hot. The air brushes over my skin like an erotic touch. The sheets tease against me. The low masculine groan of approval rumbles in my ears.
Wait—
My eyes fly open as lucidity rips me from the half-sleep I was just floating in. Instantly—instantly—my gaze clashes violently with his.
Bane.
He’s looming over my bed, right over me, two fingers ramming into my pussy with loud, wet squelching sounds. His other fingers thrust into my mouth and over my tongue, just shy of gagging me as pleasure ripples through my core.
I try to cry out, but he just keeps finger-fucking my mouth. I squirm and buck and thrash, but he doesn’t budge. He just smiles down at me, a wild, venomous, unhinged look in his dark eyes as he shoves his fingers into me.
“Stop!” I finally scream. “Get off me!”
Except it doesn't come out as intelligible words, just a half-moaned whimper. And when his fingers keep ramming into me, I can feel my body responding.
My mouth is trying to say no. Stop. Don’t.
But it’s the only one in that fight. The rest of me, body and mind, are not.
Bane’s thick fingers curl deep in my clenching, soaking wet pussy. I cry out, my body jerking as pleasure ripples through my body. My stomach clenches, my back arching slightly, sending my nipples pointing toward the ceiling.
My mouth tries to fight again, screaming stop and no a few more times.
Bane just chuckles quietly, stroking his fingertips across my tongue with my lips wrapped around them.
“Shhhh, little bird,” he growls. “I know what your mouth is trying to say. But I don’t believe a word of it.” He pushes his two thick fingers deeper into my pussy, and I whine in pure pleasure as my hips lift from the bedsheets, trying to swallow even more of him.
“Your slutty little mouth is writing checks that the rest of your body won’t let you cash.
You can whimper stop, and no, and don’t all you fucking want, baby,” he murmurs darkly.
“But until this tight little cunt stops strangling my fingers and making a drippy fucking mess of my hand, I’m not going to believe you. "
Fuck.
There’s something so unhinged in his tone, so malevolently hot in the snarling, dark expression on his face, that, mortifyingly, my body responds even more.
My hips lift again, my slick walls tight around his plunging fingers. My back arches, legs shaking as my hands grip the sheets in tight fists.
…And then my tongue swirls over the fingers in my mouth.
Instantly, my face turns to fire when I see his teeth flash and his lips curl dangerously.
“There she is,” he growls darkly, ramming his fingers hard into me. “See, little bird? You say silly things like no and stop. But this greedy little pussy keeps shouting yes and sucking my fingers inside.”
He exhales slowly and deeply as he leans down, his fingers still thrusting roughly in and out, filling the room with the wet, traitorous sounds of my arousal.
“But here’s the thing, baby,” he murmurs. His eyes glint wickedly as they meet mine in the darkness of the room.
“You signed our agreement. You’ve already given me permission to do what I want with you. So even if you’re still trying to say no?”
I whimper, drooling around his fingers as he strokes them over my tongue, his mouth hovering near my ear.
“I don’t fucking care,” he growls. “You’re my fucktoy. My plaything. My rape-slut, if I so choose.”
Reality starts to blur. My body hums and throbs, my head swirling and my breath coming faster.
I’ve never been so turned on before.
I’ve never been so wet, and so desperate for more.
I’ve never been so fucking close.
Bane brings a third finger to my hole. I jolt, my eyes going round as they lock with his.
All I see is a look of dark malice mixed with greedy hunger. He starts to push three thick fingers into me, stretching my pussy wide as I gasp and squirm. My hand flies to his wrist, my fingers clawing at his arm, telling him I can’t.
“You can do it,” he murmurs quietly, like he’s reading my fucking mind. “They'll fit. I’ll make them fit.”
I cry out around his hand, drowning in the hedonistic, totally fucked-up pleasure of it all as he starts to sink three fucking fingers into my eager pussy.
“So fucking tight, baby,” he growls. “Such a small, sweet little cunt. I’m going to have to stretch it out nice and wide if it's ever going to take my cock.”
I moan when his teeth rake over the shell of my ear.
“And you are going to be taking my cock, baby. In every one of your tight, greedy little holes.”
My fingers claw at his wrist. Suddenly, his fingers slide out of me with a slick, wet pop. I groan in frustration, mortified when I hear myself. But then he grabs my hand and brings my finger along with two of his against my opening.
Then he thrusts them all inside.
My fingers and his, knuckles-deep in my slick, wet pussy.
“Feel how fucking tight you are, baby,” he groans, ramming our fingers into me over and over. His other hand keeps finger-fucking my mouth, making me shake and writhe and shudder.
“Feel how desperate this pussy is for more. How slutty your little hole is, taking two of my fingers and one of yours all together. You want to touch yourself, baby?” he snarls.
“The next time, this is how you fucking do it. You find me, and tell me your pussy needs to be stretched, and we’ll fuck you together, baby. ”
Our hands start to move faster. Our fingers plunge and ram deep into me, and he curls mine along with his to hit my g spot on every thrust. His hand is on the back of mine, grinding my palm into my swollen clit as my eyes roll back.
My mouth drools around his fingers.
My legs start to shake uncontrollably.
My core clenches and tightens.
“Such a good girl,” he growls against my ear, his rasping voice mixing with the wet sounds of my pussy strangling our fingers. “I can feel your slutty little hole squeezing so tight. I know you want to come for me. I know you want to be my good girl and make a mess of our hands.”
I’m moaning and whimpering incoherently, trying to tell him I can’t.
I physically am unable to.
Except something all-consuming and wild is happening, which scares me as much as it excites me.
He rams our fingers deep in my clenching, dripping, quivering pussy, just as he buries his other fingers at the back of my throat.
I cry out when I feel his teeth pierce the delicate skin of my neck.
And suddenly, it's like a bomb exploding.
I don’t recognize the inhuman sound that rips from my chest. I don’t know how my body spasms on the bed, my back arching tight, my hips bucking hard against our fingers.
I don’t know what’s happening until suddenly I do, even if I can’t believe it.
Waves slam over me, sucking me down into the depths, drowning me in lurid darkness. They keep going—keep crashing into me, until I finally collapse in a shaking, whimpering, incoherent puddle on the bed.
Bane’s fingers slide out of my mouth and from between my legs, along with mine.
I still can’t talk, move, think or even breathe as my eyes swivel to his.
He brings his hand to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers—the same ones that were just inside my pussy. And slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he sucks them clean, grinning darkly.
“Pleasant dreams, baby,” he growls quietly as he stands.
He doesn't say anything else. He just turns and walks away, leaving me straining to hear the sound of his footsteps down the stairs, and then the door to the carriage house opening, closing, and…oddly…locking again from the outside.
But I don’t have the bandwidth to untangle what just happened.
How he got in. How he locked the door again afterward.
How long he was here, touching me, watching me, before I was even awake.
All I can focus on is one, single thought burning like a flame in the endless darkness of my mind.
Holy fuck.
I just came.