Chapter 29 #2
With shaking arms, I do as he says, my heart pounding in my chest and head.
I lay my palms flat on the wall, and I hear him behind me, taking off his clothes.
I could stop this. I could at least try.
But I don’t want to. I want him to give himself to me in all his fury.
I might belong to Crane, but I still want Brom to belong to me.
“Fuck,” I hear him say through a gasp. “You’re going to feel this. You’re going to feel me so deep that you’ll forget you’ve been fucked before. You’ll never be rid of me.”
Behind me, the bed sinks as he kneels on it, and I feel his wild energy at my back. It’s hot and immense and seems to grow more powerful by the second, and I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.
I jump, startled, as his hands find the bottom of my nightgown and tug it up around my waist. Then he pulls down my drawers, sliding them over my feet, discarded on the floor somewhere.
“How perfect you are, Daffodil,” he rasps, the lust making his voice raw as I feel his eyes on my bare skin. “You’re so wet. You’re dripping for me.”
I gasp as a hand slides up between my thighs and rubs over where I’m soaked and swollen, and I can’t help but let out a deep moan that rattles my lungs.
“All of this is mine,” he rumbles. “All of this for me. Did Crane make you gush like this?”
I know better than to answer that question, but then he shoves his fingers inside me and with his other hand makes a fist in my hair, yanking my head back. I cry out, and his mouth is at my ear, his breath hot.
“Answer the fucking question. Did your professor make you this wet? Did he fuck you with his fingers too? Did you squeeze them like a vise?”
“Yes,” I manage to say.
“Did you like it?” he says, licking up my earlobe, making me shiver. His fist in my hair tightens painfully, his fingers fucking me.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He pauses, pulling back slightly.
“What a little whore you are,” he says.
Then he spits on the back of my exposed neck, and I flinch. The spit slowly rolls down my spine and under the back of my nightgown, and I feel his eyes burning on me.
“But you’re my whore,” he adds as he removes his fingers, and I barely have time to take in a breath before I feel his hips against my ass, the hard heat of his cock at my entrance, and then he’s shoving up inside me with one sharp thrust.
“Oh God!” I cry out, my palms flattening.
“I’m not your god.” Brom seethes, his lips at my neck, biting, licking as his hips press me into the wall, his cock rammed inside me as far as it will go. I feel like I’m being torn in two, and I think I might faint, the world going fuzzy in a mix of pleasure and pain.
“I’m not your god,” he says again. “I’m your devil.”
He pulls out slowly, and I can feel his length drag over every nerve inside me before he shoves back inside me, to the hilt. His chest is pressed against my back, sweat dripping down onto my nightgown, the heat of him like an inferno.
He might be the devil, and so this might be hell.
But why does hell feel so good?
Because you’re a witch, I remind myself. A heathen with no god except sex.
“Taste yourself,” Brom says, letting go of my hair and reaching over my face, sliding his fingers into my mouth. “Suck them.”
I obey him just as I’ve obeyed Crane. I suck the taste of me from his fingers as he continues to pump into me from behind.
He keeps his fingers in my mouth, hooking them there like I’m a horse he’s keeping in place, and I can’t help but think of Crane in the stable, how he wanted to ride me like one.
No wonder these two men found each other.
“You’re thinking about him.” Brom says between grunts, biting my earlobe. “What do I have to do to get you to stop? Do I need to make you come? Do I need to spill inside you until you’re a sloppy mess? Shall I make you lick it all up, Daffodil?”
“Please,” I say around his fingers, because I want that. I want everything this wild beast of a man has to give me.
“You like to beg,” he says, spearing me with one hard thrust until my breasts are flat against the wall. “How often did you beg him for release?”
“Always.”
He lets out a low roar, removing his hand that’s wet from my mouth. He brings his hand behind me, and I hear him spit into it. Then I jolt as it makes its way down to my ass, running over the cleaved space between my cheeks.
“Has he touched you here?” he whispers, licking up my neck, taking grip of my hair again with his other hand. He yanks my strands, sending shards of pain that cascade over my body, making my hips buck.
“N-no,” I tell him. I’ve wanted it but felt too devious to ask, even in front of someone like Crane.
He lets out a low noise of pleasure and then slides his fingers between the crack, finding the spot, his tips wet and pushing into where I’m tightest.
“Do you like that?” he asks, bringing my head back again so my neck is exposed and his mouth is at my ear. There’s a tone to his question that reminds me of the old Brom, the desire to please. It’s still there. He’s still there.
I try to nod, swallow.
“Good,” he says, pushing his finger inside my ass while he continues to drive his cock into me.
I suck in my breath, my body overwhelmed by too many sensations.
He’s inside me in two different places, his cock and finger working in tandem and working me hard, while his grip in my hair gives me pleasure and pain.
I’m starting to ache so much between my legs, my blood hot, making my skin feel too tight.
The need to climax is becoming painful, and I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“You need to come?” he asks me. “Come on my cock like the little slut you are? Leave me soaked and squeezed?”
“Yes,” I tell him, breathless. “Please.”
He bites the back of my shoulder in response, the sweat pooling between our bodies. I close my eyes to the pain, to the bliss.
“Only if you tell me that you’re mine,” he says, pulling his teeth away.
“I’m yours,” I say.
“Only mine,” he says.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
A pause, his cock and finger squeezed inside me.
“Fuck,” he growls. “I should come right here and walk away and let you beg for mercy. I should punish you.”
My throat feels thick; I can barely swallow. He knows how desperate I am. The room smells of my desire, and I ache so badly I think I might die.
“Please, Brom,” I whisper. “I need to come. I need you to come inside me. I need you….”
He lets out a low moan. “You don’t know what it feels like to hear that.”
Then he lets go of my hair and slides his hand down over my breasts, squeezing them. His hand continues until it slips between my legs.
I come instantly.
I feel everything.
My back bows against him, the back of my head on his shoulder. A strangled cry comes from my mouth, and the world grows bright and effervescent. I feel like the bubbles in a glass of Champagne, bursting in light.
“Brom,” I cry out through a ragged gasp.
It’s good. It’s heavenly. It’s everything.
“Oh, fuck,” Brom grunts, and I feel him swell inside me, his hips slowing, the push of his cock deeper, harder. “Kat, Kat,” he whispers hoarsely, still sliding his fingers over my wetness until I’m too sensitive.
He comes with a shuddering moan, his broad chest trembling at my back as his orgasm works through him. I can feel his hot seed spurting inside me. He finishes with a couple of slow pumps, and I squeeze him hard, emptying him.
Eventually, he pulls out, his essence leaking out of me and running down my legs. He presses his chest against my back, pushing me against the wall, and leaves a trail of kisses down the back of my head, his breathing shallow and labored.
“Kat,” he says, and there’s a quiet desperation in his voice. “I…”
I try to catch my breath, waiting for what he’s going to say.
He brings his mouth to my cheek, his facial hair rough against my skin, and kisses me there. Tender, so tender.
“I never stopped loving you,” he says in barely a whisper.
I gulp, my heart blooming in my chest.
Dear God.
“Brom…”
I don’t know what to say.
“I’ve loved you my whole life,” he goes on softly, tenderly, resting his lips on my shoulder.
I turn my head toward him, unable to process his words.
He loves me?
He really loves me?
“Your whole life?” I ask, that Champagne feeling coming back.
“I knew I would marry you one day,” he murmurs, his beard tickling my shoulder as he speaks.
“It didn’t matter what they said. It was never their decision.
I fell in love with you from the very start because you’re you.
You’re my daffodil. You’re my Kat.” His throat bobs against my skin as he swallows.
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he goes on, his voice breaking. “But I know how I feel about you. And I’ll do everything to do right by you. Whether you love me or want to marry me, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do everything in my power to stay…to…”
He trails off, his body going tense.
“What?” I whisper.
Silence.
Stillness.
Terror pricks at my spine.
He lifts off my back, his presence feeling heavy and ominous.
Carefully, I twist around enough to face him.
In the dim moonlight that’s coming through the window, I can see his handsome face, the dark beard on his strong jaw, his perfect nose, those black arched brows.
But the eyes that are staring back at me don’t belong to Brom.
They are black like tar.
Simmering with evil.
Oh God.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he reaches out and grabs my head and slams it into the wall.
I scream, my jaw slamming shut as my head makes contact, and the world starts to go black. But then Brom’s grabbing me and flipping me over onto my back, pinning my hands above my head.
“Bitch,” he growls at me, and his voice is inhuman, matching the soullessness of his eyes. “I’m going to make you pay for being a whore.”
This isn’t the same as it was before. This isn’t Brom. This creature means it.
He moves above me, his body seeming both larger and harder to see, like shadows are taking over his skin. His hand goes to his cock. “I will give you pain.”
“No!” I scream at him. “Brom, don’t do this!”
But he reaches forward and grabs me by the throat. Unlike earlier, he now means to crush my windpipe between his fingers, and I can’t get a breath in.
I’m going to die here. He’s going to kill me.
He squeezes harder, leaning in until I see a malevolent spark in his glassy black eyes.
“If I can’t have you to myself, then no one else can.” He grinds out. “I will put you in the grave.”
I struggle, panicked, trying to rip my hands free from his grip. But I’m helpless, just as I was with the horseman before.
Except…I wasn’t.
I close my eyes and try to conjure that same energy inside me, bringing it out of me like I would to the flames of a fire.
Brom. Please. It’s me, I think. It’s Kat. Let me go.
I let that energy build until it explodes out of me. I feel fire flow, reaching for him.
I open my eyes to see Brom go still above me. His head tilts, mouth dropping open for a moment.
Then his eyes go wide with clarity.
Shock.
Horror.
It’s Brom.
“Run,” he whispers to me in anguish. A desperate plea. “Run!”
I don’t hesitate.
He lets go of my wrists, and I scramble to my feet while he stays on the bed, his head in his hands. “Get away from me, get away from me!” he cries out, and I run to the door, expecting to fling it open. But the door won’t open. It doesn’t even have a lock on it, but it won’t budge.
“Help me!” I scream, pounding on the door. “Mother! Famke!” They have to be home by now, don’t they? Did they bar the door shut? Did they lock me in here?
“Go!” Brom yells. “I can’t hold it off much longer!”
I whip around to see him getting to his feet, but it’s like he’s fighting a war with himself, part of him wanting to come toward me, the other part trying to hold him back.
I meet his eyes, see the pain in them, the battle, and then I run to the window and scramble out of it, dropping to the damp earth.
“Run,” I hear him say again from inside my bedroom. “Please.”
I run.