CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ember
“Is it ok to trust the one person that ruined you?”
Blood, along with many other things, trail down my body. I smell weird, not bad but not good either. The stuff he threw on me has settled and crusted over my skin. My feet are numb and a resonating chill has settled in my bones.
Naked.
Humiliated.
Pissed.
He’s done exactly what he promised, broke me in ways unimaginable. I can’t remember the last time I was fucked this good. I can’t remember the last time I was humiliated in such a way that turns me on. I should feel ashamed but I don’t, I feel powerful, he came undone because of me.
I tug on the chains, hard, but nothing happens besides more slices on my wrists.
I try to think of ways to escape these chains, but my mind remains blank.
All I can focus on is him—the way he watches me like a predator stalking its prey, the mask hiding his true intentions, and each rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
I don’t know what's next but I want to be released. Being caged like a bird, trapped in my own thoughts, second guessing what he’ll do, is starting to make me feel sick.
I wrap my hand around the chains and steady myself on my toes.
My heel is inches off the ground but I’m balanced enough to relieve the tension off my wrists.
“How long will I be up here?” I try to steel my voice but it comes out wobbly.
He rolls his head along his shoulders, loud cracks popping from his neck.
He turns to the halloween decor around the room—looking for something and leaving my question unanswered like I never spoke.
The anger in me rushes to the surface, coiling around inside my mind like a snake.
Its fangs sharp and deadly but not strong enough to beat the man across from me.
This devil of a human being with no remorse whatsoever.
It’s only been a day and a few hours, but Ronan has broken all boundaries and set up new ones like he's known me all my life. He’s taken more from me than I have ever given someone. I don’t know how I should feel about that, I can’t think straight around him.
I analyze him as he walks around the room. His hand brushes over objects before he stops on a random plastic witches broom. My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as he picks it up and examines its edges. I don’t make a sound as he walks over to me with it.
“Are you ready to tell me now?” I look at him stupidly before I remember his words from earlier.
“There’s nothing to tell you, Ronan.” I gulp and look up at his masked face. I don’t know what he’s looking at but his stare is intense, even through the barrier between us.
I feel his eyes track the expression on my face—the confusion and arousal that settles deep in my veins. He reads me like an open book, not bothering to hide the satisfaction of what he sees.
“I love seeing you like this. You don’t realize but you’re stronger than me and you combined. You hold all the cards, Little Devil.” I don’t understand what he means and he doesn’t give me time to respond before he lowers to his knees.
He separates my legs, setting them perfectly, so I don’t lose my balance.
I look down at him even more confused than I was mere seconds ago.
He lifts his free hand up to my folds and now that I notice, his skin is a bright crimson.
My blood caked onto his hand. I should feel disgusted but I become wetter.
“You trust me, don’t you?” He murmurs.
I don’t say anything right away. Do I trust him? Is this trust? I shouldn’t because the wicked things he’s put me through are questionable but I do. I trust him more than I have trusted anyone.
“Yes.” I whisper.
A soft breathy chuckle leaves his throat and his finger easily slips between my folds, burying itself there before pushing into my hole. I gasp, the sound audible and his head lifts to mine before he looks back to what he’s doing.
“You’re always so fucking wet for me.” He hums, his words barely above a whisper.
Breathy groans leave his lips as if he is the one receiving pleasure.
His movements are controlled but his mind must be a mess.
All he can think about is me. How I feel.
How I taste. How he’ll devour me. He inserts another finger, working me until I’m soaking his hand and my thighs. I moan and my head falls back.
“You don’t understand how dangerous you really are. Any man would eat out of the palm of your hand. I’ll get on my knees any day for this, you won’t even have to ask” I hear everything he’s saying but can’t keep up with his words and skilled fingers at the same time.
He lifts the broom up and slides the top of it across my slit, his gaze glued to his movements.
“What are you–” I gasp as he sinks the broom into my pussy. The handle stretching my walls painfully.
“No, Ronan, stop.” I plead, my eyes wide. The dark room feels much darker and the neon lights begin to blur. All I can see is his body covered in red, with depravity.
“I wonder how much of this you can take.” He mumbles more to himself, his voice deepening.
Tears fall from my eyes in waves and my nails sink into my palm as he pushes the broom further in. The pain is indescribable, it's so much pressure, so much stretching. My toes leave the ground as I try to kick him away, but my strength died out hours ago.
Is this what it feels like to have a baby?
“Please, it hurts.” I stutter between sobs. He places his arm behind me, keeping me frozen in place. My legs dangle and the cuts from earlier reopen from my thrashing. Blood seeps down my body and my legs shake uncontrollably.
“Don’t you think it hurts me when you deny me? Just tell me and this will all be over.” I can hear the taunt in his voice as he pushes the broom even deeper.
A scream leaves my lips along with broken sobs.
It feels like more than 10 inches, the handle hitting against my stomach with a gnawing pain.
He looks up at me, taking in the pain he’s caused.
He groans and a violent shiver goes through his body.
His chest heaves with every breath, and every move he makes is controlled beyond measure.
“This is so fucking sick.” I can’t see him through my tears anymore. My vision blurs with pain and I shake my head, trying to steady myself.
He gets the broom as deep as he’d like it and begins pumping it in and out of me. He spins it in his hands, stretching my walls to accommodate its size. Pleasure shoots through my spine and I moan.
“That’s it, Little Devil, enjoy it. Drown in the pain and it’ll turn into pleasure.” He muses and tightens his hold on the broom.
My head falls back and my sobs turn into moans. Each staggered breath that leaves my body he devours. He pumps faster and an animalistic growl leaves his throat.
“I want you to fall as hard as I am falling.” He whispers, the agony evident in his voice.
“To feel exactly how I feel when you deny me. To have your body betray you, sinking deep into someone you don’t know—don’t want to know.
I’m going to fucking destroy you.” His words haunt my mind like a plague; they're deep, real, sentimental.
I try to say something, anything—I gape at him like a fish out of water. My head reels with emotions and I find myself falling into them, letting him take my control.
“Use me, Little Devil. I’ve never fallen so hard that I’d be willing to sign my life over. Take from me until I’m begging for more.”
I scream out as the worst orgasm ripples through me. My walls tighten around the broom—I’ve never felt so full, so content. He continues to pump, riding me out completely. His chuckle is low as he spins the handle. My body shakes as I feel the plastic slowly sliding out of me.
“Being vulnerable makes you crash harder.” His chuckles are low and deep inside the mask.
I collapse against the chains and he lets me. His arm leaves my waist and drops to his side as he stands up in front of me.
He looks feral, demented beyond recognition.
“You took more than I could’ve imagined.” He tsks and lifts his mask up to his forehead.
He brings the broom to his lips. The handle coated in my cum and blood. His tongue flicks out and laps up my juices. Blood dribbles from his lips and down his exposed chest.
His hand shoots out and wraps around my throat, his eyes fluttering open. “You taste fucking delicious.”
I look at him, grasping for words. He slings the broom across the room and it crashes against the wall with a loud thud, but he doesn't turn away from me. His eyes anchor me in place as he steps closer to me.
The anger I was feeling at first has morphed into something I can't put my finger on, maybe love. I understand how he feels—we both want more from each other, but I'm not sure if this is the way to go about it.
“I still hate you.” I croak and he laughs. The sound grating as he tilts his head.
“Hate isn’t far from love, Little Devil, so I’ll take it.” I sneer at his words as he releases my throat.
I gulp down air and want to soothe the area but can’t because of my hands being tied up. I know I look disastrous, a complete mess. My hair sticks to my face and feels full of gunk. My body glistens with sweat, blood, and tears. I reek of chemicals and sex but Ronan doesn’t care.
“Can you let me down, please?” I sweeten my tone the best I can. My hands shake in a silent plea.
“I might later.” He muses and walks over to his chair, pulling his mask down over his face.
I can’t go an hour without being angry at him. Rage coils in the depths of my stomach and I feel I'll throw up any minute. My wrists are bleeding, my feet are numb, my pussy is swollen, and the cuts on my body are starting to sting.
“Please, Ronan, I’m feeling sick.” I beg, no plea. I don’t care how humiliating it is, I don’t care if I’m being pathetic. I can’t be up here any longer.
“Fine.” He huffs and gets back up. His steps are long and when he reaches me he unclasps the cuffs with ease.