Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Madelyn
Icould have tried to run. Could have. Should have. Would have…if not for me not wanting to see someone else with a hole in their head. I panicked when I saw the car coming. And it cost that driver’s life.
Using that guilt is how he’s got me standing in our shit motel room.
It smells of old cigarettes and sex. There are several holes in the walls and stained-up carpet.
On the nightstand, there is a broken phone and a pair of handcuffs someone left behind.
I stare at the one bed we have, and wonder if the pillows would be enough to smother him. Maybe he means to smother me.
He shifts behind me, causing me to shudder.
The energy he creates overtakes everything.
It looms over me and threatens to steal the air left in my lungs.
I force myself to breathe and prepare for whatever plans he has.
He is a crazy bastard, so anything can be on the table.
Maybe even something he can help me with.
A finger travels down my arm to my elbow. “Bathroom,” he whispers into my ear, voice deep.
It takes everything in me not to snatch my arm away. My stomach lurches. “Bathroom?”
His finger slides down to my wrist, leaving a trail of heat behind until cold metal touches my skin.
A click sounds through the air just as I realize he has placed one handcuff on me.
My eyes widen as I watch the other go around him.
Before I can say anything, he moves toward the room.
I have no other option but to follow, and even that is difficult.
His movements are quick and calculated, causing me to match his stride or get dragged behind.
Not that I want to go in there. The mere thought of being stuck in that small room is enough to break me out in a cold sweat.
He reaches the threshold and mercilessly pulls me inside by the chain linked between us.
The room is small with a tub/shower combination, a toilet, and a small vanity.
As he shuts the door, a floor-length mirror appears on this side of the room, and I glimpse myself in it.
Dirt still lines the sides of my face, dark circles appear under my eyes, and my hair looks like a bird’s nest. Jackson looks the same as when I first found him in my driveway, except the way he looks at me is much more dangerous.
Jaw clenching, his dark eyes stare into mine. He might as well be looking into my soul. I feel naked because of his glances, as if he’s examining everything I have to offer and determining if I’m worth the effort.
When he moves to cut the shower on, I go along beside him.
Water flows into the drain, and I’d like nothing more than to go down with it.
His hand goes to my chest to take hold of my shirt.
In one jerk, the fabric rips, exposing my bra.
“You tried to run from me,” he says, voice gruff.
“Tried to flag down that driver.” His eyes flick toward my breasts.
“Everything you have. Everything that you are belongs to me now.” A finger hooks into the middle of my bra, right between my breasts.
He pulls at the fabric, extending it away from my skin.
With a snap, he lets go, causing my bra to pop against my chest. A sharp ache begins where it hit and spreads over to my sides.
“Take everything off. Let me see you,” he orders.
I force myself to breathe, but it’s difficult. My lungs burn with effort. It’s like he’s taking all the oxygen in the room and leaving me with poison left behind. With shaky hands, I unclasp my bra and move on to my pants and underwear. I peer up at him, struggling to stay calm.
I expect him to touch me. He doesn’t. Instead, he moves to take off his clothes before stepping into the shower and dragging me with him.
The moment the hot water connects with my body, I’m spun around to face Jackson.
His chest looms in front of my face, and all I can see, aside from his fresh wounds, is mud and black ink that spreads across it.
A row of Roman numerals goes from one end to the other, only to be broken up by a cross dead-center on his chest. The cross goes on forever, with the bottom ending just under his belly button.
Dark hair begins where the cross ends, and I can’t help but look at all of him.
His erection presses against my belly, and for one moment I wonder how he’s going to fit.
But, as long as he isn’t gentle and skips the praises, I can handle it.
My stepfather praised me while taking my virginity that day.
If Jackson is rough, I can imagine other things and disassociate.
It’s when I face kindness that I lose control.
Kindness is a ruse. A bitter lie, and one I never want to be reminded of again.
Suddenly, my back slides up against the cool shower wall as Jackson places his hands on both sides of my waist and lifts.
My face meets his as he leans into me, closing all the space between us.
This position leaves me no choice but to wrap my legs around him.
“Look at you. So willing, little fire,” he whispers into the side of my neck.
“I am not your little anything…” I hiss.
Interrupting me, his teeth graze my skin, causing me to gasp.
Tingles shoot down my body, ending at my center.
My breathing picks up from his touch. If I’m not careful, I’ll lose my ability to zone out.
So, I do the thing I know works ninety percent of the time-I close my eyes.
Going back to my favorite place helps me get through what my stepdad did to me.
When he would be satisfying himself, I would just think about the ocean and the sand.
My mom’s laugh as we raced into the water to swim. I need it to work the same way now.
His cuffed hand travels down to my inner thigh, before moving closer to my pussy.
The tips of his fingers flick against my clit.
The sensation causes my hips to squirm against the movement.
Think of something else. Anything else. I jerk my hand back, hoping it would also move his.
I might as well be moving stone. If anything, my reaction causes him to be rougher than before.
“You’ll take to your nickname, eventually.
” The friction between my legs stops, and I let out a slow breath.
“Just.” A slap lands against my clit. “Like you…” slap. “Will take…” slap. “To me.”
Pain and pleasure radiate from my clit, and I shut my eyes tighter. “I don’t want you,” I murmur. I can’t want a stranger. A murder. A monster. My body is betraying me. It shouldn’t be feeling good.
His finger slips inside me; the sensation causes me to whimper. “You don’t?” he asks before thrusting another finger in. “Your pussy says otherwise.”
I shake my head no. I refuse to believe it. His fingers pull out, leaving my pussy wide open. Pressure builds at my chin where Jackson’s hand forces his fingers into my mouth. I taste myself. My arousal. My damnation.
“This is supposed to be a punishment,” Jackson removes his fingers to maneuver my body a little further up. The water from the shower head falls and puddles where my legs meet his waist. “But your greedy little cunt likes me.”
I open my eyes just as his cock pushes into my pussy. I cry out, but that only makes him go deeper. “Innocent girls always like bad things. Thrust. Rough things. Thrust. A rough cock.”
“You don’t know anything,” I stutter against his movements. At the pressure that’s building inside me.
He smiles, the display terrifyingly beautiful.
“At this moment, I know enough.” His free arm reaches around my waist and yanks me from the wall.
My body jerks back, leaving me no choice but to wrap my arms around his shoulders.
His cuffed hand takes hold of my wrist as he stares into my eyes.
He thrusts harder, making me take every inch of him.
My nails dig into his back, a sign of protest and pleasure.
A short moan escapes him as I take a risk and glance down.
His wounds are bleeding, the blood mixing with the water pooling at my legs.
He follows my stare, but his new discovery doesn’t cause him to stop.
“That’s going to scar right above my heart.
” His dilated eyes reconnect with mine just as he grips my shoulders and pulls my head under the water stream. Fuck.
I’m positioned in such a way that the water avoids my nose and mouth. Instead, the stream forces itself over my eyes and parts at the bridge of my nose, only to make contact with my breasts. The droplets beat against my skin, causing a slow vibration against my nipples.
Jackson holds onto me in a grip tight enough to leave bruises.
“I’m going to miss your body. The way it takes me so effortlessly.
” His cock pulls away, only to push back inside a second later.
The change causes an ache I’ve never experienced before.
A good ache. The type I should never allow anyone to give me.
My body sways as Jackson forces me out of the water.
His hands wrap around the top of my thighs so that my legs stay wrapped around him.
He shakes his head; the movement showcasing his clenched jaw.
“You’re close to orgasm, little fire. I can sense it.
” Thrust. His eyes zero in on my chest. “The way you are breathing gives it away.” He thrusts again, but this time he doesn’t stop.
The way he moves is calculated but relentless.
The more I fight, the rougher he becomes.
Instead of staring at him, I look at the wall.
At the blank white tiles that surrounds me.
Like another prison, but this one of my own making.
As hard as I try to zone out, there’s something about Jackson that makes it impossible.
It could be the way his cock claims me. The way he claims me.
Takes me. Demands to use me. I’m not used to it…
. the brutality of it all. Soon the only sounds I hear are his thrusts and the way my pussy responds to them.
The pleasure builds inside so strongly it’s almost suffocating.
My lungs burn from trying to hold it in.
I can not cum for him. I won’t. But as soon as those thoughts clear my mind, I know my body is too far gone.
It’s reached its limit. It’s high and the pressure can not build any longer.
I bulk under it; the effect shoots tremors all down my body as I cum.
For him. The murderer. The monster. The devil himself.