Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
L ondyn
“Goddamn, Londyn. You are so fucking beautiful like this. Twitching around my cock, struggling to breathe with my hand around your throat,” Oliver said in his cruel, casual way. With each slow, deliberate thrust, he made sure she felt his piercings, the cold bars quickly heating until they matched her warmth.
His words set her on fire. Everything about this… her captivity… his dominance… her surrender to her own dark desires was wrong and confusing. She shouldn’t want any of this. But she did. And while she burned under his possession, Oliver continued stoking the flames, fucking her until the pain and intensity of her stretching to accept him became secondary to what her body demanded.
“I can feel you coming on my cock, dove. Your pussy is contracting around me, little flutters that vibrate my piercings. It’s fucking amazing.” Bracing himself on one arm, Oliver kept his hand around her throat. It was a simple act of dominance and not intended to make her lose consciousness, although Londyn knew that could change without warning. Her body responded in the most humiliating way, soaking his cock and pulsing desperately.
“Will you come again for me?” His sly inquiry was accompanied by his hips pumping in a series of shallow movements that seemed designed to drive her crazy. Oliver huffed out a laugh, burying himself until he could go no further before withdrawing enough to glance down between their bodies. “My dick is coated with your blood and your cum. I want more of it.”
Londyn’s weak, strangled whimper of greedy acceptance amused him. A dark angelic grin curved his lips.
“You looked gorgeous choking on my dick in the basement. Every time I shoved myself down your throat, it made you wet. Maybe wetter than you are now with my cock buried in this tight pussy. Should we try that again and see if I’m right? Or should I keep fucking you like this until you pass out?”
Oh, God. Remembering what he had done to her in the basement made Londyn convulse in a mixture of desire and absolute terror.
“It scares you, doesn’t it? Thinking about all the ways I’ll use you. It frightens you, but you’re getting off on it, too. I can tell because you squeeze my cock so tightly when you are scared.” Oliver released her throat.
She drew a quick breath before he slid his hand into her hair and gripped the nape of her neck. Tilting her head back, he stared into her wide eyes as he glided in and out of her. “I think I should chase you through the woods again.” His voice was raspy with lust. “I should let you believe there’s hope of escape. I’ll wear a mask again. Only this time when I catch you, I’ll fuck you in the dirt while you scream and try to get away. Ahhh,” he laughed suddenly, “your pussy likes that idea. It’s fucking strangling me. Fuck, I can’t hold it off any longer. Let me feel you coming on my cock, Londyn, while I fucking come inside you.”
His movements became more erratic, more forceful, and uncontrolled. Letting out a low growl, his body tensed as he thrust harder, deeper inside her, and Londyn responded as he commanded.
The room dimmed, stars exploding behind her eyes as an overwhelming climax swept through her. She screamed in pleasure, crying out as Oliver slammed into her one last time. The barbells that studded his cock dragged over every sensitive nerve ending inside her, hitting spots she never knew existed until it all exploded in a dizzying avalanche of sensations; a final climax riding the tails of the last one with no break in between.
“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me, dove. Take every inch and every drop. Take it all.” Oliver’s mouth slammed onto hers.
Londyn could not breathe. She could only shake and submit to the darkness as he shuddered with the force of his orgasm. Her body melted around him as the hot heat of his cum filled her. And she could do nothing to stop it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted. It was a strange sense of belonging that overcame her as he pumped into her. She reveled in the security of his embrace even though she knew it wasn’t real. Because nothing with this man at its center could ever be the truth. Everything was a lie. A smokescreen. A mirage.
That feeling of being safe with Oliver Winter? It was a dangerous illusion and trusting it would be her downfall.
She must have blacked out.
When she came to, groggy and disoriented, she discovered Oliver still looming over her, his body shaking as he came down from his climax. Their heavy breaths filled the room while beyond the sleek glass doors leading to an expansive balcony, birds twittered and sang in the early-morning sunshine. It was such an odd thing. Outside this room, the world continued revolving as if nothing had happened. The fact she’d just surrendered her soul and virginity to the Devil was inconsequential to everyone but her.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. “That was worth every penny.” He eased out of her, smiling when he saw the evidence of their mutual orgasms mingled with her blood. Rearing back on his haunches, he grabbed a section of the sheets and leisurely wiped himself off before doing the same to her swollen sex. He noted the way she flinched, and surprisingly, when he passed the silk over her a second time, his touch was gentle but sure. “Next time, I’ll push all my cum back inside you, Londyn. You’ll keep everything I give you until I say otherwise.”
He tossed the soiled silk aside as Londyn lay frozen, her heart racing and her blood turning to ice. She could feel something welling up inside her. A roiling ocean of emotions and feelings. It was barreling through her; she couldn’t stop it. Her eyes filled with tears, and before she knew what was happening, she was sobbing hysterically, overwhelmed and out of control until she couldn’t breathe. Her chest swelled like it was stuffed full of dynamite and a second away from exploding.
“Shit.” Oliver moved quickly until his back was against the headboard. “Stop crying.”
Londyn scrambled into his lap, frantically holding on to him like a lifeline. Why she clung to the one person who was the catalyst for her pain was a mystery. But something inside her soul was drawn to his darkness. She could not fight how it wrapped tendrils around her mind and refused to let her go. And it was pathetic how she craved his touch, his attention. She’d not experienced affection or even something so simple as a hug in such a long time. Was it any wonder she gravitated toward this man? He made her feel things she had never experienced before.
The realization that she wanted more of him was frightening. Humbling. Humiliating.
For a moment, Oliver did nothing. Even amid her hysteria, Londyn recognized his reluctance to embrace her, although he did not try dislodging her. It was as if he were overcome with indecision at the sight of her tears. When she pressed her face into his chest, clinging to him and hating herself for it, he stiffened, his body rigid and unyielding. She whimpered, squirming until she was nestled firmly in his lap.
Letting out a sigh, Oliver finally gathered her close, his arms encircling her waist as she huddled against him, soaking his skin with hot tears.
“Sshhh,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Don’t cry now.”
His assurances only made Londyn sob more.
Okay? How is any of this okay?
He shifted her until he could frame her face in the cradle of his large hands. Peering into her eyes, he watched as she tried to bring herself under control. Beneath his impassive gaze, Londyn could see an unexpected softening in the icy-blue depths as he studied her. A smile twisted his lips as she stared back, unblinking.
“Tell me, little dove. Why are you crying?”
Fresh tears welled in Londyn’s eyes. She bit her bottom lip, a little hiccup escaping when she took a deep breath.
“I-I don’t know,” she lied.
The corner of Oliver’s eyes crinkled, but he was oddly sympathetic. “Oh, that’s not true. You may not understand why you started, but you know the reason for your tears now. Let me help you figure this out because I suspect I understand you better than you probably do. You’re feeling violated, but you are also content. You’ve experienced an overload of pleasure, but your mind cannot accept that. It is actually rebelling, so as your body and your mind fight, all that confusion and turmoil needs an outlet. You cry so bitterly, and yet, you seek comfort from me. The man keeping you prisoner. It’s overwhelming, I know, dove.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, brushing them gently as he spoke. “I do understand, you know. More than you can realize. I know what it’s like to want to scream at the top of your lungs. To flail and rage and feel like there’s not a goddamn soul on this earth listening to you. I understand. And you can cry on my shoulder for as long as you want. I won’t think any less of you.”
A muscle ticked in the firm line of his jaw at her confession, his gaze hardening. Londyn could almost hear him grinding his teeth as he cursed softly under his breath.
She could not withstand the vulnerability she saw in him. Could not fight the silky thread of commiseration she suddenly experienced. To think he truly understood her based on his own experiences was unfathomable, but the connection between them shimmered like water in bright sunlight. This man was a killer. An abuser. A monster. And yet, his admission did something unexplainable. It made him almost… human.
What Londyn did next shocked them both.
Winding her arms around his neck, she hesitantly kissed him; her lips barely pressing his, her breath coming in helpless gasps. She could not rationalize why she initiated the kiss. She only knew, in that moment, she could do nothing else to express the emotions raging inside her.
Oliver shuddered; his eyes fluttering shut as Londyn shyly explored the firmness of his mouth. The pillow-like softness of the center of his lower lip and the rough scrape of the morning stubble were contradictory but addictive just the same. His breath remained slow and even, but where her breasts pressed into his broad chest, his heart was thumping as rapidly as her own. His hands dropped from her face, instead, resting lightly on her hips. When she finally leaned back, her eyes wide with shock at her actions, Oliver’s mouth pulled into a tight line. His brow furrowed, and Londyn’s stomach dropped with irrational fear.
“Don’t make the fucking mistake of thinking you might soften me. I may understand you and, surprisingly, even feel a bit of sympathy for your situation. But this doesn’t change anything. I’m the fucking villain in this story, Londyn. You should remember that and never forget it.”
He removed her from his lap and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed with his back to her. The skull tattoo grinned at her as if confirming his words. Londyn shivered, wrapping her arms around herself while drawing her knees to her chest. She watched him, breathless and confused, as he continued speaking without looking back at her.
“I’ve got business to attend over the next couple of days. While I’m gone, I expect you to be a good girl. If you are, if you cause no trouble, I’ll take you to the lake for some fresh air when I return. Would you like that?”
Londyn desperately wanted that. She needed the sun’s warmth on her face. A fresh breeze ruffled her hair. But she couldn’t help but think this might be a trick. A test of some sort. Maybe he wanted to see if she would run. Maybe he wanted her to try so he could punish her again and feel vindicated for whatever torture he dreamed up. Or maybe this was all a setup for the day he ended her life. After all, he’d taken what he wanted. Her innocence. Her blood. Her soul. “If that’s what you want.”
Oliver glanced over his shoulder at her, his mouth a hard line. “Miss Miller is coming to clean the house today. I don’t want you interacting with her. Not because she doesn’t know why you are here, but because I don’t like making her uncomfortable. And if I know you, you will try enlisting her help in escaping. Which would be a useless endeavor on your part.”
Londyn nearly choked on her outrage. He didn’t want to make his housekeeper uncomfortable, but he sure as hell didn’t mind taking what didn’t belong to him. He hadn’t felt such remorse about making her cry. His lack of regard was so hurtful it left her breathless. Her hands clenched into fists.
But still… if she indicated in any way that his statement bothered her, if she let her mask of acceptance slip, he might take back the offer of eventually taking her outside.
“Okay,” she said tersely while swallowing past the lump of resentment in her throat. “I will stay in my room.”
He studied her from over his shoulder; his gaze narrowed as if he expected her anger to manifest. When she calmly wiped the tears from her cheeks in silence, he let out a heavy sigh and turned back.
“Go there now.” Oliver’s voice was gruff. “And Londyn? I owe you five more lines in addition to the ones already carved into your back. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Londyn gasped. When had he added the additional lines? After the shower? When she was high on endorphins and crashing? The entire experience was a hazy blur in her mind, but she almost remembered him rolling her onto her stomach when he placed her on the bed. Was that when he did it? She felt sick that she could not remember.
His cruel smile told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he enjoyed her horror. “I want them there as a reminder of what you have given me—your submission and your innocence.”