Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
L ondyn
Londyn’s head lolled against Oliver’s chest as he carried her up the stairs. To her surprise, he did not turn down the hallway toward the room he’d given her but continued striding down the corridor and around the corner until he reached a set of double doors, one of which was slightly ajar.
After pushing it open with a nudge of his foot, Oliver entered the dimly lit room. Londyn barely had the strength to lift her head to peek at the room’s interior as he strode through it. She caught a quick glimpse of an enormous bed crafted of what looked to be twisted, blackened branches and sleek chrome and glass furniture. Several pieces of framed artwork decorated the walls, echoing the modernistic style she’d glimpsed in the great room before. Abstract landscapes in tones of white, black, and gray. Metal etchings of wolves and horses. It was all cold, scary, yet visually striking.
She screwed her eyes shut as Oliver shouldered through another door. He flicked a switch. The room instantly flooded with light that stabbed Londyn behind her closed eyelids.
“Stand up.”
Londyn obeyed as Oliver set her on her feet. Slowly opening her eyes, she gazed around the room. It was so bright that it was nearly blinding. It was decorated with glass and mountain stone, a mix of rugged surfaces, gray-veined marble, and fixtures so high-end they probably cost more than the shitty trailer she’d grown up in. A freestanding, curved tub, big enough for three or four people, sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. A huge, ornate crystal chandelier hung over it. Londyn swallowed hard, fighting a wave of dizziness that threatened to buckle her knees.
“Let’s get you out of this.”
Before she grasped his meaning, Oliver tugged the sweatshirt over her head, tossing it onto the vanity counter along with the knife he used to cut off her panties. Londyn caught a quick glimpse of herself reflected in the mirrors above the double sinks. She might have been a waif he’d found in the forest. Naked and trembling, her hair wild, and her skin pebbling with goosebumps. Crossing her arms over her chest, she quickly averted her gaze from the mirror.
Bad idea. Because Oliver had stripped off the pajama bottoms and was now as naked as her.
She couldn’t look away from him. She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. But there was a silken string of fascinated horror tethering her eyes to the broadness of his chest. And his trim hips. His well-formed, muscled legs and bulging arms wereencircled with barbwire. He had the physique of a Greek god. A perfectly sculpted man inked with tattoos bound to haunt for the remainder of her short life. When her eyes drifted toward his midsection, she swayed.
Tattooed above his groin, the word SWALLOW stretched from one side of the V to the other. His cock was so hard it was nearly upright against his lower stomach, its thick length blocking out the A and both L’s.
All .
He’d made her swallow all of him.
She’d blocked out the reality of what he’d done to her just a few hours ago.
The piercings...those barbells. Sliding against my pussy. Cold steel hitting my teeth. Oh, God. Down… down my throat.
Why did I let him do that? Why didn’t I fight harder in the playroom? Or down in the kitchen just now?
“Stop thinking, Londyn.” Oliver stepped closer, sliding his hands alongside her cheeks. He cradled her face, peering down into her wide eyes. “Stop thinking and take a deep breath for me.”
Why she followed his calm instructions made no sense, but Londyn did as he commanded. The moment she exhaled, Oliver kissed her, his mouth gentle and searching on hers. When she whimpered in pain, stiffening in his arms, he kissed her with increasing pressure until she sagged against him, her hands fisting against the corded muscles of his broad chest. She was no match for his strength, much less his size and insistence. He wouldn’t release her. Her body agreed with that scenario, even if she was screaming inside.
One of his hands sank into her hair, holding her still for the onslaught while his free arm slid around her waist. He kept her anchored against his tall, hard body while Londyn sank into the kiss despite the fact her mouth hurt from being used earlier in the day. Oliver groaned at her surrender, kissing her with such ferocity she wondered if he was trying to steal her soul through the crush of his lips on hers.
When he finally let her go, Londyn gasped in relief. Her eyes watered with his grip on her hair, and her skin tingled with awareness. She wanted him to kiss her harder. It scared her… this need to have his hands and mouth on her, taking whatever he wanted. She did not know why she craved it, but she did. Her hands fisted tighter with the desire to strike him. To make him pay for showing her what it meant to want with madness ruling you.
“That’s enough, dove,” he breathed against her mouth as she panted. “If I don’t stop, I’ll end up fucking you here on my bathroom floor. While I would enjoy that, I doubt you would.”
He stepped away from her and approached what another open door cut into a wall of mountain stone. The skull tattooed emblazoned across his back watched her with fathomless, soulless eyes as he punched a small panel set into the stone; adjusting a few things with a stab of his finger. A moment later, she heard water running. Like rain pouring through a hole in the ceiling.
“Come on.” Oliver reached for her. He tugged her through the wall’s open doorway into a vast shower designed to look like a rock grotto. There was one large rain-shower head and multiple wall jets, but the true focal point was the waterfall. The water tumbled from a wall expertly constructed to mimic the side of a mountain. It fell in a rushing curtain, splashing on the rocky outcroppings and the stone floor. It was breathtaking.
Oliver immediately pulled her into the waterfall, using his hands to slick her hair and the warm water away from her face. When he turned her to face the wall, she instinctively braced herself with hands flat against the stone. She hissed as the water washed away the blood from the tally mark, but the pounding of the waterfall was already easing much of the tension in her overused muscles. She was relaxing into the sensations, lulled by how good it felt, when he suddenly tugged her away from the feature, moving her to stand beneath the gentler rainfall of the overhead shower.
Then, for reasons Londyn could not understand, he poured shampoo into his hand and began lathering her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp and the aching tendons in her neck. A moan of pleasured distress slipped from her. She shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.
“Shhhh,” Oliver murmured, rinsing the suds away with capable hands. “I did a very poor job of seeing to your needs after our time in the playroom. It’s important to do these things. So, let me take care of you right now, Londyn. Okay?”
Londyn nodded as he followed the shampoo with conditioner before washing her body. The body wash smelled like him, a blend of spice and oak that was intoxicating and erotic. It surrounded her, infiltrating her senses. His large hands were everywhere as he rubbed liquid into her skin, his palms slicking over her breasts and stomach, kneading her shoulders, and sliding to her hips and butt cheeks. She fought to contain the sighs of pleasure. She’d never been touched with such care and attention before. It was amazing. Wrong and confusing—but amazing, nonetheless. Had this occurred in a different life, in a different place and time, she would have melted into this man and done anything he asked.
“Fuck, you are gorgeous, Londyn. Addictive. I can’t keep my goddamn hands off you.”
Londyn opened her eyes. Oliver was brutally beautiful, the water sluicing down his hard body, finding and traveling along the crevices and ridges of his abdomen. His pale-blue eyes gleamed like rare topazes as he touched and explored her curves. Why was he being gentle with her now after using her without a thought for her comfort? And why had he revealed so much about himself when speaking of his childhood and the relationship with his older brother? It sounded like he’d had a traumatizing childhood, much like her own. Maybe touching her like this satisfied his unvoiced need to comfort and be comforted. Maybe he was starved for human connection, and this was the only way to fulfill it. It was very puzzling. Londyn didn’t know what to think.
When he pinched her nipples between his forefinger and thumb, it proved impossible to think at all.
“Sit on the bench.”
Londyn frowned, shaking off her lassitude, as Oliver pushed her toward a wide ledge carved into the stone. It was slick with water but not in the direct path of the waterfall and the rain-shower nozzle. She sank onto it, his hands gripping her shoulders while guiding her.
Gazing at him, Londyn remained motionless as he thrust a hand into her hair. He held her still, his large palm cradling her scalp as he studied her features. His cock bobbed in front of her. The piercings caught the water, beaded up on the metal, andthen dripped off to land at her feet. Much like her saliva had done before.
She licked her lips, her throat tightening painfully. The memory of how he fucked her mouth with absolute ruthlessness made her thighs clench.
What was wrong with her? Why? Why did she wish he would do it all over again?
“You’re sore, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it? You liked what I did to you before, and I suspect you will love what I’ve planned next. I think when I fuck you for the first time, you’re going to come all over my cock like a good fucking girl. Isn’t that right, little dove?”
Londyn bit her lip, shaking her head in denial, but she couldn’t ignore the truth his words contained. Blood roared through her veins in response to his filthy accusation, her nipples tightening into hard buds that almost hurt. Her eyes fluttered shut.
“Spread your legs for me, Londyn. Spread them wide.”
She did as she was told. Oliver sank to his knees between her outstretched thighs. Hooking his muscled forearms beneath her legs, he jerked her forward until her ass was nearly hanging off the bench seat.
Londyn braced herself on her elbows, meeting his gaze over the flat plane of her stomach. The position in which he had anchored her meant everything was bared to him, ready to be devoured. His mouth twisted into a small grin, a lock of wet, dark hair falling over his brow as he took the sight of her in.
“You’re going to come for me like this. On my tongue. As many times as I demand. Do you understand? Your cum is a goddamn aphrodisiac, dove. And I don’t plan on stopping until it coats the inside of my mouth and drips down my fucking throat.” Leaning forward, he ran his tongue over her bare pussy and groaned. “Jesus Christ, you taste so damned good. You are so pretty. So soft and pink. I’m going to feast until I’m fucking full of you.”
“Oh, God,” Londyn breathed, and Oliver’s teeth flashed white as he bit the inside of her thigh, leaving another mark on the pale skin.
“Not God’s name, Londyn. My name. And I want you to scream it.”
He lowered his head, and with the slightest brush of his lips against her sensitive clit, Londyn came undone. The rapid orgasm was as shocking as it was quick. It rolled over her, leaving her mangled and gasping for air. Her channel pulsed, aching for something to fill it as her clit throbbed from the feather-light pressure of Oliver’s tongue.
“Oh, Londyn. You didn’t follow my instruction,” he chuckled, raising his head and studying her. Although his chin was shaded by dark stubble, she could see it glistened with her juices. Her stomach clenched in embarrassment as he said in a husky voice, “I want another climax from you, and this time, I want your screams as well.”
When he forced her to reach the pinnacle again, she did scream. How could she not when his mouth ravaged sensitive flesh, and two large fingers were embedded in her vagina up to his knuckles? He rubbed a spot deep inside her, and she combusted with disgusting ease, her cry a long, wobbling wail of satisfaction and a craving for more.
“Fucking hell. That’s it, dove. Scream for me just like that. You are so fucking gorgeous like this. At my mercy. Coming for me. Clenching my fingers so goddamn tightly. Your pussy looks so pretty with my fingers deep inside it. Mine . All mine. Come for me again.”
“I-I can’t,” she moaned, her body sinking against the rocky ledge. “Please...”
“You can, and you will,” Oliver promised. He thrust his fingers in harder, his mouth latching onto her clit. When his teeth bit down on the sensitive nub, her weak scream filled the cave-like enclosure as she came so hard she blacked out.
When her eyes fluttered back open, she focused on Oliver as he pulled his tattooed fingers out of her and rose to his feet. Towering over her, he sucked those same fingers clean of her wetness, his eyes burning with lust and possessiveness as he made a show of licking the letters emblazoned on his skin. Glancing to his left, he contemplated the detachable shower nozzle while Londyn quivered at the obvious pathway of his thoughts. “Stand up and turn around. I want you on your knees. Ass in the air.”
When she did not move quickly enough, he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her upright. Spinning her, he arranged her in the position he desired, slapping her bare ass almost playfully once her chest was flat on the bench.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Londyn hesitated but quickly did what he ordered when he slapped the other side of her bottom. That one stung, but she choked back a squeal of pain and adjusted herself with the side of her face on the bench, her knees bent beneath her, and her ass high in the air. She looked like a deranged cat in heat, but Oliver’s low rumble of approval told her he liked it.
“Should I tie you up like this, dove?”
She heard him remove the shower from its holder, and her heart pounded so hard that she thought it might explode. Oliver did not expect an answer, so she did not bother forming a response. Oliver would do whatever he pleased. If he wanted to tie her up, he would. If he wanted her hands free, he’d do that, too.
When the warm water spray hit her butt cheeks, she jolted, but Oliver gripped her hands on the small part of her back, holding her in place. “Maybe I should grab some restraints.”
“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to move. I’ll be still. I promise.”
Oliver’s response was to slide the shower wand between her legs from behind. The steady stream of water aimed directly at her clit, the intensity sending a moan from her chest and into her throat. It felt so good, but it was too much. Within seconds, her body tensed with another looming orgasm.
“Hold this against your cunt. Don’t you dare fucking drop it or move until I say.” Releasing her hands, he waited until she shoved them down the front of her body and between her legs. With her arms now trapped between the weight of her upper body and the bench, he thrust the shower nozzle head into her palms, then reached over to twist a lever on the wall-mounted holder.
The stream of water slowed to an intermittent pulse, but Londyn had no time to appreciate the slight reprieve. Oliver began slapping her ass cheeks with leisurely purpose, first one and then the other. The combination of sharp pain and pulsating heaven quickly drove her back to the edge, and she sobbed. How many more of these intense orgasms could her body take?
“You’re going to come again for me, but before you do, tell me—how many does this make so far?”
Londyn’s body shook. She could not think, not with the water beating against her clit and his large hand cracking against her ass.
“Th-three,” she stuttered, her legs trembling uncontrollably.
“Wrong.” One hand slapped her ass harder, while two long, hard fingers on his other hand slammed into her pussy, stretching her as he spanked her. “It’s four, counting the one in the kitchen. And you’re about to give me number five,” he chuckled as she gasped, her body bowing up tight. “Look at you, little dove. Fucking my fingers like a good little whore. I don’t know which is prettier: My hand wrapped around your throat or your pussy sucking my fingers in deeper. I should fuck you right now since you won’t fight back. Maybe I will. Would you like that? My cock ripping you into pieces while you’re coming all over it?”
She exploded before he finished talking, her pussy clenched on his fingers as the pulsing of the shower nozzle pushed her into a world of darkness. The climax seemed to come from everywhere, sending her flying into a hazy subspace where she simply floated. The roaring in her ears faded, leaving everything quiet and still. All that remained was the pleasurable waves undulating through her and pinpoint lights drifting across the darkness in a waterfall of sparks.
She was no longer in the shower with her tormentor. She was soaring somewhere in the clouds and hurtling into blackness, far above heartache, pain, and pleasure. She might have screamed, or maybe she was sobbing. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.
She was slipping away, and it didn’t matter.