22. Chapter Twenty-Two #2
And then he’s on me again, his mouth plundering mine and taking what he wants without remorse. And fuck, it feels so good to let him because I know in my heart that he won’t hurt me.
His hand slips around my throat, squeezing gently, reminding me who has the power here. But that he won’t abuse it.
I whimper into the kiss, shivering as a bead of sweat forms on my lower back and warmth pools between my legs.
My brain launches into overdrive.
Blood.
Drip. Drip. Dripping.
A hundred disturbing memories filter in, dragging me further and further into the abyss like some deadly undertow. As I’ve practiced a million times, I allow it to consume me and drift off into the darkness where pain doesn’t exist. Nothing hurts here. There is no fear. There is no anger.
There’s just … nothing.
It’s where I’m safe. Where I’m comfortable.
“Stay in the moment, pretty girl,” Lynx whispers tenderly against my lips, tethering me back to reality as his free hand drifts over my curves and toys with the hem of my dress. “Stay with me.”
Behind my chest, my heart beats hard and fast, adrenaline and arousal coursing through me like dangerous white water.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Are you still here, Harlow?”
I swallow. Breathe. “Yes.”
With a growl, he’s kissing me again, his mouth feverish and hot. He coaxes my dress up my thighs and skims a finger over the wetness soaking through my panties, a satisfied hum vibrating from his chest.
“So fucking perfect.”
He slips my panties to the side and inserts a finger, his thumb strumming my clit and making my legs tremble. I grip his sweater tighter, holding on to him like my life depends on it as he deepens the kiss, his fingers working me over as that delicious pressure builds deep within my core.
But then he pauses, his mouth hovering over mine as he demands, “Tell me what he did to you.”
My bottom lip quivers, emotions I’ve desperately tried to suppress bubbling to the surface.
I can’t get the words out, so instead of speaking, I close my eyes and guide his free hand to one of the scars on the inside of my thigh, running his fingers over the raised flesh.
He freezes, mutters a gravelly, “Fuck,” then begins tracing the lines, committing every inch of marred tissue to memory.
“How many others are still out there?”
Against my own volition, the truth spills from my lips. “Three,” I rasp.
“Give me names, and all of this goes away. For good.”
It’s tempting. It really, really is. But I need to do this for myself. He’s already robbed me of three of them. I refuse to allow him to take the rest.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“You can.” The fingers between my thighs begin moving again, teasing me until I’m writhing. “And you will.” He abandons my scars and wraps his hand gently around my throat, tipping my head back so my face is pointed at the sky.
“Open your eyes, Harlow. And look at what this monster has done for you. What I’d do a million times over if it meant keeping you safe.”
I oblige, staring up at Terrance’s mangled corpse dangling above us. The initial shock of it has worn off, but ripples of anxiety continue to move through me, wave after relentless wave.
Lynx’s voice is the only thing keeping me grounded and calm as he speaks in hushed tones, reminding me that I’m alive and safe with him. That every scar on my body is evidence of how strong I am.
When I reassure him that I’m still here, he picks up the pace and adds a second finger.
I hiss from the sting of being stretched out, but with each strum of my clit, that pain begins to ebb.
And pretty soon, I’m panting and rocking my hips as the slow drip of blood patters against the dead leaves on the forest floor.
My heart slams against my ribs when he withdraws his hand and rips my lace panties from my body. The distinct sound of a belt buckle and zipper follow shortly after.
With his lips grazing the shell of my ear, he growls hotly, “Tell me you want this, pretty girl. Fuck, I can’t do it unless I hear you say it.”
The world around me goes still and quiet, the fear of the unknown trickling into my system.
There’s a very small part of me that wants to tell him no. To tap out and run away because the only time I’ve ever been touched by a man was against my will.
My mouth opens and closes, my lungs tight with a choice I’ve never really been given before.
But when Lynx tenderly presses his lips to my neck and murmurs, “Let me show you how good it is when you have nothing to fear but the darkness in your own mind,” I count backward from three, exhale a ragged breath, and tell him, “Show me.”
I barely have the words out before he lifts me into his arms and coils my legs around his waist. I feel the nudge of his cock—more specifically, the two steel balls on the tip—against my slick skin and go stock-still.
Jesus. He’s pierced.
I must say the words out loud because he chuckles darkly against my neck and whispers, “Don’t worry, pretty girl. You’ll like it.”
And then he slowly pushes inside me. I gasp at the sudden intrusion, overwhelmed by his size.
He’s too big. Too long and thick and, oh god, it hurts. It hurts so bad.
I release a pained whimper, squeezing my eyes shut as my fingers dig into his shoulders as I try to adjust to his size.
He stills inside me, his hot breath on my neck as he licks and sucks his way up the side of my throat to my ear.
“You’ve bewitched me, little killer. And fuck if I don’t love every second of being under your spell.”
And then he’s moving inside of me, pulling out slowly and cautiously while holding me upright in one arm, his free hand tracking the pulse beneath my jaw, which must be going a thousand miles a minute.
“Relax, Harlow. Let me in.”
Swallowing around the boulder in my throat, I force my muscles to relax, the tension in my limbs flowing out of my body and thickening the air around me.
“Good girl,” he growls, eliciting a soft moan from deep within my chest.
He picks up the pace, pushing deeper and deeper inside of me with each thrust, those little steel balls massaging a part of me that only he’s ever reached. My juices seep out of me, coating the skin connecting us.
When I moan, all tenderness vanishes in a poof and he begins fucking me, hard and fast, the rough bark of the tree behind me sawing at my bare back with each thrust. I count backward from three over and over again and try to block the pain out and remind myself that Lynx isn’t one of them, and this is just evidence that I’m still alive, even if some days I wish I weren’t.
They didn’t win.
Lynx must notice because he pauses briefly to say, “I’m hurting you.”
I don’t have a chance to respond before he swiftly spins us around, seats himself on the ground so he’s propped against the tree and I’m straddling him, and tells me, “Ride it.”
His big hands grip my ass, gently guiding me back and forth as he gazes at me with hooded eyes. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I exhale a controlled breath and begin to move, following his lead and relaxing around him as he mutters words of praise that make my head swim with pride.
“Fuck, you’re perfect, Harlow. Beautiful. Strong. Fucking brave. You’re killing me, pretty girl. Fucking killing me.” He presses a thumb to my bottom lip. “Suck.”
I don’t hesitate, wrapping my lips around his thumb and hollowing my cheeks around it, swirling my tongue and humming in pleasure as the taste of copper floods my mouth.
Terrance’s blood. Blood that Lynx spilled to protect me.
God, this is depraved and sick and so fucking hot.
His thumb leaves my mouth with a pop, and he presses it against my clit.
My head drops back on a moan as I stare up at the body in the trees, Lynx’s thumb working my most sensitive spot while I take every inch of him inside me.
“Lynx,” I rasp. “I’ve never—Oh god.”
“Take it,” he grits out. “Whatever you need, fucking take it.”
I do just that, digging my nails into his shoulders and riding out the waves of ecstasy rolling through me like a violent tsunami washing away everything that dared stand before it.
Every sensation is heightened. The strands of my long hair tickling my back. The subtle breeze kissing my bare skin. The damp soil beneath my bare knees. The big, rough hand gripping my hip. The single drop of warm blood splattering against my forehead.
Lynx sweeps it away before it drips into my eye and growls, “Break for me, little killer. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when you do.”
And with that, I come violently, my entire body racking and pussy convulsing uncontrollably, greedily pulling him in further.
“Oh god,” I cry out.
“That’s right, Harlow. I’m your god now. And for as long as there’s air in my lungs, you’ll be mine to protect. To kill for. To fuck. Nobody will ever own you like I do.”
And then he meets me there, a deep, dark rumble moving through him as his heady warmth floods my insides and his cock throbs and pulses. He coils an arm around my waist, and pulls me forward so his face is buried in my neck.
I hiss when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh behind my ear.
“Mine,” he snarls. “All. Fucking. Mine.”
“Yes. Yours.”
A satisfied hum vibrates from his chest.
Right before I collapse against him and everything goes black.