Chapter Two
Isabelle
I’m wandering around my bedroom, an uneasy feeling keeping me awake.
I’m tidying up things when the room is already clean, touching everything my eyes land on to ground myself. Anxiety builds in my chest, my stomach churning with unexplainable nerves. The lights are off, but I have a few candles lit, something that’s usually soothing on nights like this.
It’s Christmas Eve and the ground is covered in snow. I live in the country, away from the sounds of the city, so it’s quiet and pitch-black outside.
I’ve always loved how the snow silences the outside world. While I usually find it comforting, tonight, it’s eerie and unsettling.
Peeking through the curtains, I scan the yard, my heart beating rapidly inside my chest. I’m not typically one to get wound up, but something isn’t right. My eyes focus on a trail of indentations in the snow, and the air rushes out of my lungs.
Are those footprints?
Closing my eyes, I count to three and breathe deeply. Glancing outside once more, the snow is falling harder, and I no longer see the indentations leading to the house.
It was probably a wolf or something.
Making one more pass around the room, I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the unwanted paranoia. Blowing out the candles on the dresser, I remove the oversized t-shirt I’m wearing. I hate sleeping in clothing, it’s suffocating.
The room is dark except for the string of Christmas lights decorating the accent wall. Making my way over to the bed, I freeze mid-step, the hair on the nape of my neck standing up.
I’m not alone.
My breath catches in my throat, leaving me paralyzed with fear. My mind wars with my body to either run and hide or curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes shut.
I choose option one as the surround sound in the bedroom comes alive, blaring ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ through the speakers. My hands fly to my ears, my brain rattling against my skull as I sprint across the hardwood floor, slipping and sliding. Diving into the closet, I shove the folding door in place, peeking through the wooden slots.
A shadow appears across the floor, and terror claws at my chest. I can’t see the doorway from this angle and the deafening music is too much.
I can’t fucking think.
A broad figure comes into view, and I slap a hand over my mouth, trying to silence my breathing. Short bursts of air barreling through my nose is all I can manage right now, terrified of what will happen if the intruder finds me. Sinking to my knees slowly, I inch backwards until my feet hit the wall. I shift into a sitting position, pulling my knees into my chest.
Breathe, Isabelle.
Quietly .
Through your nose.
In and out.
Don’t be like those dumbass girls in horror movies.
Don’t cry. Don’t breathe too loudly. Don’t sniffle.
My heart hammers in my chest and my stomach clenches. There’s nothing in the closet to use as a weapon and even if there was something, I can’t concentrate because of the damn music. That shit alone has me on the edge of a panic attack.
This is torture.
It’s sensory overload and I’m about to break.
Pushing my palms against my ears as tightly as I can, it does little to muffle the sound. The bass has the wall behind me vibrating against my back, the floor trembling beneath my feet.
My chest tightens and the small space begins to close in on me. The clothes hanging from the rod dangle over my head, touching me just enough to freak me out. Will he come through the wall behind me? He came into my house, so he could bust through the wall, right?
Just as I fall into a downward spiral, the closet door is ripped open, a large, imposing figure towering above me.
Suddenly, the tiny closet doesn’t seem so bad.
The clothes get shoved to the side and I scream in horror. He tilts his covered head to the side, watching me.
Waiting.
I don’t move. I don’t blink. I don’t breathe.
Before I can process another thought, he lunges, gripping the back of my neck roughly, dragging me out of the closet. His strength forces me to my hands and knees, the wooden floor rough against my palms as I try to find traction. Fear has me in a chokehold, my body limp and useless in his grasp.
He doesn’t stop until he reaches the bed, his large hands gripping my biceps, pulling me to my feet. I’m spun around, his broad chest pressing against my back. The contact is enough to snap me from my fear induced paralysis.
As I try to spin around, a strong arm wraps around my middle, his other hand covering my mouth. My eyes widen and it feels as if the corners will split open.
Warm breath fans across my neck, his soft lips resting against my ear. “Fight me, pretty girl. It makes me so fucking hard.”
With the music so loud, I barely hear him speak. While I’m scared shitless, there’s no tears or pleas for him to spare me. My only request is to shut the fucking music off. In a moment of insanity, I attempt to bite his hand.
He jerks away, spinning me around until we’re face to face.
Our gazes collide, but his blue eyes are the only thing I see. They darken the longer we watch each other, his pupils blown wide. He’s wearing a black and white skull mask, his features hidden behind the fabric, and something shifts inside me. The panic is still there, but every nerve ending in my body lights up at the sight of him and I can’t ignore the arousal between my legs.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He’s broken into my house, wearing a mask and I’m naked as the day I was born, held captive in his embrace. He takes a step back, his eyes roaming down my body. My thighs clench, the slickness between them becoming more evident. He groans when he catches the movement, and my face flames with embarrassment.
I have to get out of here.
My feet begin moving backwards but they come to a stop when he pulls a knife from his side, tapping it against his thigh.
“Now, now, Bells. If you try to run, I’ll catch you and ruin this beautiful fucking body.” He holds the knife between us, trailing the tip down the valley of my breasts. He circles my left nipple, sending a shiver down my spine.
Startled by the use of my nickname, I gasp as the point scratches across my skin.
It’s both horrifying and exhilarating.
I’ve lost my mind.
“My husband will be home soon.” I blurt out with more confidence than I feel.
“No, he won’t.” His deep voice sends goosebumps erupting across my skin. His eyes crinkle at the edges and I know he’s smiling, which is disturbing.
He trails the cold metal down my torso, circling my navel and doesn’t stop until he reaches my clit. A whimper escapes my lips as he steps closer, running his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling deeply. To my advantage, he probably didn’t hear it because of the music. His touch gave me a reprieve and I tuned it out for a few moments, but now I can’t focus again, and my hands fly up to cover my ears. Scrunching my eyes closed, I try to focus on anything other than the creepy fucking Christmas music. I’ve always loved the holiday, but this is too much. I can’t handle it.
He grips my wrists, pulling them down and I realize he’s turned down the music.
“Your fear is so fucking intoxicating.” He nips my jaw before flattening his tongue, licking the side of my face.
My body goes rigid.
“Your panic has my cock leaking. Get on the bed, now.”
“W-what?” I stammer, shaking my head vehemently.
He grips my bicep with his free hand, a slight jolt of pain making me realize I shouldn’t have questioned him.
“Get on the fucking bed, now.” He growls. “I won’t repeat myself again.”
He releases his hold, and I back away from him slowly, my shaky knees meeting the edge of the mattress. I fall onto the soft memory foam, my head spinning with what’s happening.
“Lie on your back, arms above your head, legs spread.”
Obeying him for fear of the consequences, I watch in silence as he rips the decorative colored lights from the bedroom wall, making me flinch. I’m surprised they’re still lit, and he didn’t pull them from the plug. He comes to the edge of the bed, wrapping the string of lights around my wrists, winding them through the slots in the headboard. I tug at the binding, but I freeze when I realize how tight they are. The more I struggle, the tighter they become. He takes a step back, reaching out, gliding his rough fingertips up my thigh. “That’s my girl.”
His praise sends unwanted jolts of electricity down south, and I close my eyes and thighs at the onslaught of emotions plaguing me in this moment.
He rips my legs open, a loud crack sounding in the quiet room, and I yelp as he slaps my pussy, hard . “Eyes on me.” He tilts his head to the side, and though it’s dark, I know he’s watching my face. “Your cunt is gushing.”
Heat flares across my skin, and I feel like I may burst into flames. He slaps my pussy again and I’m horrified at the moan that slips past my lips.
He chuckles darkly and the flush spreads down my neck, across my chest. “Such a good, little slut. Your pussy is weeping for me. You’re aching, aren’t you?”
My heart pounds in my chest. I should be offended, humiliated. Instead, his degrading words ignite a fire in my blood, sending little flutters straight to my core.
My hips rise off the mattress as his finger glides easily through my slit. Obscene sounds reach my ears as he slides two fingers inside me slowly. Momentarily forgetting the situation I’m in, I’m lost in the pleasure my captor is giving me. “Please.” I moan.
“What are you begging for, Bells?”
“I-I don’t know.” I whisper, rocking against his hand.
He removes his fingers, and I whimper in protest. “Liars don’t get to come. But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”
My eyes widen as he reaches behind him, pulling his hoodie over his head.
Jesus.
His chest is a work of art, his muscles covered in so much ink, you can barely see the thin lines of his tan skin. His tight abs flex with every movement, and I lick my lips, my eyes following every ridge and dip of his torso. Kicking off his boots, he lays the knife on the nightstand, his hands moving to unbutton his pants. He pushes them down his legs, along with his briefs and I gasp. I thought his upper body was art, but it’s nothing compared to his cock. It’s long and thick, engorged to the point of looking painful.
I pull against my restraints, wincing as the cord digs into my flesh. This guy has broken into my home. He’s holding me captive. While my mind screams to fight and run, my body is desperate for his touch.
He steps out of his pants and underwear, wrapping his hand around his shaft. He strokes himself slowly with a firm grip. Lifting his free hand, he reaches for my nipple, pinching it roughly. “Your tits are perfect.”
His hand begins working his cock faster as he abuses my sensitive breast, but I want more. Pushing my chest out, he switches to my other nipple, giving it the same treatment.
I don’t recognize the person I am right now, but I’ll analyze that later. “Please!” The plea is out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve said. I’m mortified for a split second before he releases my tender nipple, his fingers trailing down my soft belly. He reaches the apex of my thighs, and my hips lift off the mattress.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckles and I want to crawl in a hole, never to see daylight again.
I’m begging for a masked man’s touch who broke into my house, demanding my body and soul. All self-hatred disappears as he slides two fingers inside me, hitting the spot I need him most. I cry out, struggling to keep my eyes open. He strokes his cock faster, finger fucking me harder. I clench around him, and he groans.
My lower belly coils tightly and tingles of pleasure spread throughout my limbs. My muscles tense as an explosion of pure ecstasy floods my body and I scream, my hips grinding against his hand. He applies more pressure against my g-spot, and I lose all control of myself, liquid gushing all over his fingers.
I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.
“Open your mouth.” He growls and I do as he says. He jerks himself faster and faster until he spurts cum all over my tongue, the last remnants dripping from my chin onto my chest. He groans as I swallow his release, his fingers leaving my pussy, rubbing his essence into my skin. “So fucking beautiful covered in my cum.”
My cheeks heat, but not from shame. I’m flushed because of his filthy mouth and the shock from how much I like it.
His naked body towers over me, his dark eyes piercing as the rest of his features are hidden behind the mask. My body begins to relax but my eyes close, the music filtering back into my senses. “C-Can you turn the music off?”
He bends down, his lips caressing the shell of my ear. “You only get one request. Are you sure this is what you want to ask of me?”
I watch him quietly, going back and forth with myself. In the end, I can’t think or do much of anything other than having an orgasm because of this stupid fucking music. He turned it down some, but it’s still irritating as hell. “Yes.”
His eyes widen behind the mask, but he nods, bending down to retrieve his pants. He pulls a remote from his pocket, clicking a button and the music stops. He drops it onto his pants, his face tilting as he looks at me. “I hope that was worth it.”
I nod, but I’m already regretting my decision.
I should’ve asked him to take off the mask.