Chapter 5
Dazed and confused
JUDE
His mouth moves over mine, and I press my hands against his chest, trying to force the asshole off me. He’s too strong, too heavy, too damn muscular, and I’m too tired, too weak and unable to fight back.
He’s persistent too, his lips moving over mine and his teeth nipping at them, as he tries to persuade me to participate.
I don’t want to.
Not freely.
I’m not attracted to men. I never have been, and I’m sure as fuck not attracted to this asshole. He might be king of wherever the hell it is that I am, but he’s still a cunt, and he’s trying to force himself on me.
He’s determined. Powerful. His body is a warmth I need after the freezing bath he subjected me to and the hours spent in cold, wet clothes. In a fucking cage.
His mouth is as relentless as his will, moving over mine with a hunger that’s both calculated and feral. I push harder against his chest, but it’s like shoving at a brick wall. He’s immovable, and every ounce of strength I’ve got left is met with his refusal to budge.
His teeth scrape against my bottom lip, nipping just enough to sting. A growl rumbles low in his throat when I refuse to give in, a sound that sets my nerves alight.
My breath hitches, but it’s not fear. It’s rage, white-hot, and pulsing through every nerve.
And yet I feel better. Revitalised. Replenished. As if there’s something in his kiss that brings me back to life.
“Get off me,” I snarl against his lips, my voice muffled and hoarse.
He pulls back, just enough to look at me, his golden eyes narrowing as a smirk curls his lips. He’s not human and he’s far stronger than I am. Far stronger than I’ll ever be.
“Why? You’re mine.”
His finger trails down the center of my chest, and it makes me shudder. I shouldn’t like it. I don’t want to like it. But its heat is hotter than any fire I’ve ever known and I stare up at him, half-pleading for him to keep going.
“Every inch of you belongs to me.”
I try to strike him, and he catches my hand in midair. He doesn’t flinch and barely moves. He hasn’t stopped staring at me, as if it was all too predictable, all too easy.
For a moment, he stays still.
My heart races, pounding harder than when I was pulled into the sea, or harder than when the storm and its invaders attacked my home. It’s beating harder and faster than at any time since this ordeal began, and the asshole holding me beneath him grins, almost as if he damn well knows it.
“I’m not…”
His eyebrow rises and he tilts his head a fraction.
I twist my head away as his lips come back down, but he grabs my jaw with one hand, his grip like iron, forcing me to face him. His fingers dig into my skin, and I feel the sharp edge of his claws pressing against me, a warning.
“I said no,” I grind out, my voice trembling with the effort to keep my rage in check.
“And I said you’re mine,” he replies smoothly, his tone as unyielding as the collar around my neck.
I stiffen beneath the weight of the merman’s gaze.
My breath catches in my throat as I try to summon the courage I don’t quite have.
I swallow hard, my Adam’s apple rubbing against the iron collar forced around my neck.
The one that burns and makes me tremble as I try to push back the fear and confusion clawing at me.
“I don’t find men attractive.”
His laugh is low and mocking, a sound that sends a chill down my spine.
His features almost soften, and the hardness in his sharp face recedes for a split second, revealing something terrifying close to empathy.
The merman pulls back a little and my eyes flick down his body, catching the golden glint of his skin and the outline of his muscles concealed beneath his silk shirt.
“First, I’m not a man.” He moves that hand down my center, and I shudder as it moves closer to my pelvis. “Second, my poor little plaything, your cock says otherwise.”
Fuck.
My cock’s semi-erect, despite the cold. He hasn’t touched it, not directly, but even now it’s growing harder. I don’t know how it’s happening, and I’m more confused than I’ve ever been, although I’m undeniably aroused. Worse, I’m growing more aroused by the fucking second and I need this to end.
Now.
But the asshole on top of me has no intention of letting me go, and I don’t have time to think straight. I don’t have time to understand this, and I barely have time to react, let alone plan what the hell I’m going to do about this. About any of this.
“I haven’t touched it,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “It’s been a few minutes and you’re already begging for me to.”
I shake my head, denying what I’m terrified might be true.
Another cruel smile threatens his lips.
“You’ve really not known a male then,” he says, and I don’t like his tone. It’s soft and comforting, dangerous and threatening. He’s excited by the idea that he’s my first man and I don’t want to encourage anything, especially not with him.
I buck against him, using what little strength I’ve got left to try to throw him off. It’s useless. He doesn’t even flinch, his body pressing down harder, pinning me in place.
“Enough,” he growls, his tone shifting to something sharp, dangerous. “I’ve been patient, Jude. But my patience has limits.”
Something in his voice freezes me, not out of fear but out of some strange, primal recognition.
There’s power in his words, a weight that sinks into me and holds me still against my will.
It’s like the air has turned into tar, thick and suffocating, wrapping around my limbs and dragging me into submission.
His voice echoes in my skull, reverberating with a resonance that feels ancient, inhuman, and binding, as though his words are more than sound—they’re a command that my body is powerless to resist.
He lowers himself onto me again, letting my hands go.
I pummel his chest and then stop, resorting to trying to push him back and failing miserably.
He lies on top of me, and my arms are sandwiched between us, and instead of fighting him off, I find my hands massaging his hard, almost reassuring, and almost comforting muscles.
“Kiss me properly,” he says, dropping his head so that only a few millimeters separate our lips. “Or suffer, Jude. Don’t make me hurt you. It’d be a shame if I had to hurt such a pretty thing. So be a good boy and open your mouth for me.”
I whimper and my cock twitches.
He crashes his mouth onto mine, and his kiss is rough. Forceful. Dominant and in complete control. It’s fire and flames and the depth of the ocean, and I find my mouth moving with him, though I still won’t let my lips part.
It’s like no other kiss I’ve ever experienced.
It’s turning me on and I don’t know why. I don’t want to know why. I don’t understand why my cock is throbbing, but it is, and my fingertips curl as they press into him, practically begging for more.
A hand wraps around my cock and squeezes. Hard. It’s a burst of pain and pleasure that shoots through me, and it leaves me gasping. His tongue thrusts into my mouth and I moan again, writhing underneath him as I taste the ocean and all its power in his kiss.
There’s nothing gentle about it. Nothing soft or caring. It’s a torrent of power, an unstoppable force. His tongue moves around my mouth, playing with mine as he wants, and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing except accept that this is happening and move with him. Give in to him.
And this.
His hand loosens its grip, but he moves it up and down my shaft and my hips rock with him. The pleasure is undeniable, and the heat rising in my core is extraordinary. It’s a blaze of arousal and it surpasses every other time someone’s played with my cock. Every time a woman’s played with my cock.
He might be a cunt, but he knows exactly what he’s doing.
And I want more of it.
My back arches and I rise to meet him, pressing into him. He’s warm and solid, an undefeatable force, and he’s playing with me with a skill that makes me want more. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. Not when I’m this powerless. Not when he has this much control.
But I think I do.
I know I do.
“Good boy,” he mumbles against my lips, and my dick jerks in his hand. “So fucking responsive.”
I’ve played this game with women. I’ve known many and more than a few have had a praise kink.
But I’ve never indulged myself, and I never thought I was the type to enjoy this.
But my cock’s weeping precum and it’s throbbing harder with every stroke, with every second of the attention he’s lavishing on me.
His lips demand more from me, and I’m more willing to oblige.
My arousal and excitement are growing, and its heat and pleasure are a release I need.
I want to know something other than pain, other than fear, other than the fucking cold I’ve been subjected to.
And I’m beginning to want to explore more of this. Much more of this.
“Take my cock out,” he orders.
My fingers dig in again, from resistance this time, as my head shakes against his lips. I don’t know if I can touch his cock. I’m not sure if I’m ready. I know what mine feels like but I don’t know if I want to know what anyone else’s does, especially not his.
“Take it out, pretty boy,” he murmurs, “or I won’t let you come.”
I whimper, and his laugh is dark. Dangerous. A goddamn turn-on.
“You want that, don’t you?” he continues. “Everything you do from now is under my control, Jude.”
He grinds his hips into me, and I feel him. He’s thick and hard, and impossibly big. Fuck, he’s huge. He’s rubbing himself against me and I’m sure he’s taking pleasure from it. I can feel his cock throbbing against me and he isn’t stopping. He won’t stop. Not until he gets what he wants.
“I control when you eat, when you sleep, when you get to wear clothes, and when you don’t. I’ll fuck you how I want when I want, and you’ll like it or you’ll learn to. I’ll only let you come when you’ve earned it, so be the good boy you want to be and take my fucking cock out.”