Chapter 2 #2
“If you don’t,” he bites, ragged and thick with dark, sadistic greed. “I’ll force every last scrap of that leftover meat down your throat while I fuck this ass.”
The threat lands hard, and my stomach twists at the image—cold, bloody flesh shoved past my teeth while he tears into me. I can already taste the copper on my tongue.
He doesn’t just want my battered body, he wants to feed me my own nightmares until I die on them, until my submission tastes like his sick satisfaction.
I shake my head again, but it’s useless because he doesn’t wait for anymore begging.
Rough hands shove my dress higher, then his fingers hook around the strings of my panties, and he yanks them, the delicate fabric scraping over my thighs before pooling uselessly at my ankles.
“Up,” he snarls.
Before I can react, his arms lock around me, and he lifts me as if I weigh nothing, slamming my torso down onto the cold, hard dining table. My breasts crush against the polished wood, my cheek pressed flat to its surface.
He wrenches my knees apart, manoeuvring me into a humiliating, arched position on all fours with my spine bowed, ass presented and exposed under the dim light.
Spreading my cheeks his hot breath ghosts over my asshole, and it clenches tight. Shame crashes into me like a tidal wave of filth, drowning what little dignity I have left.
Then, his face buries against me, lapping greedily, the obscene slurp of his mouth against my hole.
But through the haze of the degradation, my frantic, wet eyes dart across the table, and there, within desperate reach, the thick, heavy wooden candlestick stands like a silent weapon in the center, its base solid and merciless.
When his tongue vanishes, a new pressure replaces it, and five thick fingers, bunched together, pushing persistently against my fluttering ring, the sting drowning any thought I had. He spits once, a warm glob that does nothing to ease the oncoming damage.
Pain detonates through me as he presses hard, splitting me open, and a strained scream leaves me. I jerk forward, but his big arm slams down over the middle of my back, locking me in place as his knuckles breach my burning hole.
Agony explodes through my pelvis, my entire body trembling from the shock and tension, feeling every vein, every ridge, and every brutal inch as his hand sinks deeper, impossibly widening me.
His wrist disappears, my asshole taking him in. Then part of his forearm. And I can feel the obscene bulge in my lower belly pressing against the table as the width burrows into my guts.
He twists his hand inside me, knuckles grinding against sensitive inner walls, opening and closing his fist like he’s exploring the limits of my destruction.
Then he begins to thrust with a growl in his throat, slow and unhurried at first, building into savage, arm-deep strokes that punch the breath from my lungs.
Wet, sucking sounds fill the room with every withdrawal and re-entry.
And each time he pulls back, my ruined, red rim clings desperately to the widest part of his hand before he slams forward again, burying himself to the midpoint of his forearm causing my asshole to push out crimson froth around him.
Through my cries, my vision fractures, before suddenly, I’m dragged back into orbit. Back to him eating my ass. Back to me being silent. And I realize his fist hasn’t even entered me yet.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Not waiting a second longer for it to happen, my fingers graze the candlestick before finally latching around it.
In one fluid, scared-filled motion, born from pure survival, I scream, a primal sound that tears from the deepest depths of me. And with a quick twist, my arm swings with every ounce of broken fury I possess.
The heavy candlestick connects with the side of his skull in a sickening CRACK, the wooden edge meeting bone. Blood erupts instantly, spraying hot across the table and my dress like a ruptured artery.
Everything slows as Law’s body tilts sideways before slamming onto the floor with a heavy, resounding thud that ripples through the room like the final beat of a dying heart.
My body vibrates with adrenaline, chest sawing in and out. Then, slowly, I lean forward, peering over the edge of the table through wide, wet eyes.
And there he lies… motionless.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
A dark pool of blood steadily spreads beneath his head, glistening under the chandelier light like spilled secrets finally set free.
I stare, waiting for him to move or to rise, and to punish me worse than ever before. Or possibly kill me. But he doesn’t. For a single icy moment, the monster has been silenced by my own trembling hands.
Get out. Get out, replays in my head, over and over, louder and louder.
In a faint daze, I wrench my wedding band down my finger, the huge diamond catching the light as I pull it free. I hop off the table and toss it onto the floor beside him, landing in his own blood.
Then I kick off my heels and, without a second glance at my now ex-husband, I dash toward the front door.
◆◆◆
The moment I step outside, a fresh slap of chilly evening air and heavy rain hits my face. It’s still early, the sky a dark blue, while I run toward the towering gates, holding my long dress in my hands to keep it from dragging.
I quickly glance back once, and the front door is still wide open, and he’s not following me.
With a shaky hand, I punch in the code to unlock the gate, and it instantly grinds open with a metallic sound. As soon as I can, I slip through the gap, and run, taking nothing with me but the clothes on my back and the scars on my skin.
“BLAIRE!” I hear Law aggressive shout at a far distance just as I reach the edge of the woods, but I don’t stop. I dash through the tree’s, bare feet sinking into the squelching mud.
I run and run, as fast as my body will allow, my lungs giving way, my legs burning with effort, not knowing where I’m heading.
Until suddenly, I slip and fall, and with a wet thump, I land in thick mud, my body crunching from the impact.
Wheezing on my front, I reach out, fingers clawing at the sludge, trying to drag myself forward with tears streaming down my cheeks before my body gives way.
I pant hard, flash backs ripping through my mind like a distorted video reel.
Remembering the first time I was brought into that damn house, I was petrified. Of him, of everything, and how it took me months to stand tall again, even longer to smile without forcing it, and longer still to feel anything close to safe.
And Law… he was my beacon in that suffocating darkness.
For over a month, I barely left the guest room, but every single night at seven, when I’d drag myself out of bed for a shower, I’d return to find everything I could possibly need waiting for me like magic. Fresh clothes folded neatly on the bed, warm food, and women’s essentials.
After months of staying in that isolated bedroom, because I knew I had nowhere to go, I remember when I first sat down beside him at the table and ate dinner. I finally found the courage to leave that room.
His shock and understanding, like he knew everything I was going through, flashed across his pale, blue eyes.
That’s when I thought I really saw him.
His gaze from that evening still haunts me, but not in a bad way, despite everything he’s done since. He had this dark, magnetic, yet dominating charm that pulled me in against every survival instinct I had left.
Another flashback tears through my mind like crushed glass dragged across raw nerves, pulling me under even as I lie collapsed in the cold mud in the woods.
I remember how I shyly reached up that first time, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes while giggling like a nervous schoolgirl cause he said something funny, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.
In that exact moment, something electric shot through both of us—a spark that flared bright and dangerous in his icy blue eyes, mirroring the heat blooming inside me.
From then on, our touches lingered like forbidden promises. My fingers grazing his hand, sometimes by accident, sometimes deliberately.
We'd brushed past each other in the kitchen, bodies pressing just a second too long, breathing each other in without daring to name the craving.
He never made a move first. Not once. He waited patiently for me, letting the tension coil tighter until it became unbearable.
Until that rainy night, almost a year later.
The memory splits through my heart, vividly destroying me, even now as rain mixes with the muck on my skin.
The warm, greasy scent of takeaway food filled his car, but something inside me snapped, and I told him to pull over. No hesitation flashed across his face as he yanked the handbrake with a sharp click.