Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SUMMER
He holds me tightly to his warm chest, and I breathe in his familiar, comforting scent, his shirt and flexing muscles soft and reassuring against my face.
I have a better understanding of him and his motives now, but the fact that he admitted to being obsessed with me is still something I can’t quite get over. It’s not normal. He’s not normal.
And I can’t stay here for the rest of my life, living in some twisted fantasy, existing solely to please him and whatever impulses he foists upon me. A small, timid voice in the back of my mind whispers, Run, Summer, this is it.
My heartbeat’s calmed, but now the muscle clenches and pounds out hard, reverberating thumps, the impulse to flee making my limbs shaky.
Pulling away from his warm embrace, my fingers resting atop his solid, broad shoulders, our eyes catch.
Distract him. Distract him. That voice urges.
But I only have one thing that will distract Kage…
Myself.
My cheeks flood with an onslaught of hot blood.
I can feel how hard he is through his jeans still, my pussy spread across that massive mountain range of a ridge he somehow hides in his pants.
Now is not the time to give into my dark, lecherous desires, but if I can wield my charm against him, then so be it.
I’ll lose this battle to win the war, and my body will have to be the martyr.
His pupils dilate in lust at our proximity and the sudden shift in the air between us, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood as I hold his gaze and reach down between us.
He stiffens, eyes widening to saucers as my fingers graze the tough fabric caging in his thick cock. “Will you…will you tell me more?”
My voice is just a husky whisper now, and he nods so eagerly that I have to bite back a laugh.
I should find it pathetic, how he simps for me, but all it serves to do is turn me on.
To be so desired and obsessed over that he kidnapped me has done something to my brain, and I fear I’ll yearn for this level of attention for the rest of my life.
“Good,” I whisper, pressing my palm to his dick.
His eyes roll back as he tilts his face to the night sky, his fingers falling to my hips and digging in so hard I know he’ll leave bruises.
Not only do I think he craves my touch, I think he laps up my praise like a thirsty dog.
It gives me an edge, a sense of power that I never knew I had before—probably because I didn’t in my past relationships.
But praising Kage and watching his brain short-circuit makes me drunk with it.
I swallow hard, preparing to drive the final nail into his coffin when his lust-filled, hooded eyes find mine. “You…you’re huge. I’ve never…” I stumble over my words, and his cock twitches against my fingers.
His entire body is as tight as a piano string, trembling with the force it must take him to not throw me on the ground and fuck me into an everlasting grave.
Part of me hopes for that, to be so thoroughly ravaged and in such a dirty, depraved way.
He awakened desires in me I never fathomed, and it tortures my soul day and night now that I’m aware of them.
So before I run, I’ll give him the same gift in return.
I clear my throat. What does it matter, what I tell him?
He’ll never be able to tell another soul, and not because he can’t speak.
He’s bound by what he’s done to me, imprisoned for eternity by his own actions, and so I stroke his cock through his pants as I speak.
“I’ve never been with a man like you. I…
I keep wondering if it’ll hurt…and if it does… ”
My gaze finds his, and he’s about to explode like he did that time in the shower. So I drive my eyes into his and whisper, “I think I’ll like it.”
That’s all it takes. Those words and the pressure of my palm stroking him through his jeans.
He releases a breathy sort of groan and bucks his hips upward, seeking more pressure from my hand, dry humping it as he blows his hot load of cum.
The amount is enough to seep through the dense fabric and coat my hand, the pungent scent of semen mingling with his body wash and the fresh, sweet air of a summer’s night.
My pussy clenches in answer, weeping because I truly do want to experience the magnitude of a man like him…
But instead I do the only thing I’ve ever been good at…
I run.
It’s impossibly difficult to see once I reach the woods surrounding his home, but I remember from all the crime and survival shows I’ve watched to go downhill.
Downhill is water, and usually civilization.
My bare feet are stabbed repeatedly by rocks and twigs, and more than once I ram straight into a branch that materializes like a phantom from the darkness.
I’m not quiet by any means, but neither is he as he crashes through the bushes and trees some distance behind me.
My lungs ache with how quickly I am panting, gulping at the air like a fish out of water, and my pace slows the further into the forest I’m drawn.
The sudden realization that this was a stupid, half-cocked plan wrenches a sob from my lips, and I cry to the night in desperation.
I want to go home, to my childhood bedroom where my mother and father are just down the hall to chase away my bad dreams.
But I just as equally want the monster who now features in those nightmares to catch me and punish me for being such a tease.
What I don’t expect to happen, however, is to stumble upon another house so soon, soft, golden lighting spilling from shaded windows, the ramshackle structure barely standing, and the scent of skunk—weed—heavy in the air.
Just as I’m about to burst forth from the tree line, I skid to a stop, arms flailing to halt my forward momentum. There’s a bonfire, and barking dogs, and numerous male figures looming about.
And something—maybe intuition—crawls up the back of my neck like a spider and whispers warnings in my ear. There’s something horribly wrong about this scene, and it takes me a moment to figure out what…
But then I see them. Guns. On their hips. Strapped across their backs. Glinting, malicious pieces of metal used to destroy.
They’re guarding something—drugs, I’m guessing—and as badly as I wanted to escape Kage, I just as badly don’t want to become a toy for these men before they kill me.
Holding my breath, I take a slow step backwards, further into the safety of the darkness—when my heel snaps a twig. Everything goes silent, even the dogs—massive black hounds with chains around their thick throats. Their keen eyes are pinned on me, hackles raised, ears pointed.
“You hear that?” One of the men grumbles. “Go check it out.”
Lip wobbling, I’m pinned and frozen to my spot, stuck wavering between impossible options when a warm, familiar hand slaps over my lips and grips my cheeks so hard I cry with pain and fright. Kage yanks me back into his sweltering hold, his chest rising and falling with his ragged, rapid breaths.
My fingers claw at his wrist, and I’m unsure if I’m begging to be let go, or wishing he’d grip me harder and take me away from the danger at present.
Choices stripped from me, his thick forearm cages me in by my belly, and he rips me off of my bleeding feet, stalking us as silently as a ghost back into the cover of the forest, the flickering light of the bonfire slowly becoming eclipsed by the heavy branches.
Just when we’re out of eyesight of the dilapidated cabin, Kage spins me around in his arms, his furious eyes glowing through the night.
His mask has slipped, showcasing his high cheekbones and the bony ridge of his nose.
He’s enraged, and so I do the only thing I know to do in a moment where I think I’m in deep shit; I start wailing into his palm, my cries muffled by his rough skin.
It always used to work on my dad. He’d get one swat in before I morphed into a princess he was forced to placate instead of punish. My brother always hated it, how I got away with everything under the sun the second I turned on the waterworks and he received the lash of the belt.
Kage’s eyes narrow in his fury, and he shakes his head, as if to say, I’m not falling for it.
Which only makes my tears multiply and become somehow more desperate.
Struggling to get out of his hold, the taste of freedom still potent on my tongue, I’m instead shoved against the thick trunk of a tree and pinned there with his hips.
He shakes his head again—not hurt by my actions, thankfully, but definitely exasperated by me.
Before I can make sense of what he’s doing, he spins me around and forces my front to the tree, exposing my backside to him. Because of this, he’s unable to keep his hand on my mouth, but I know better than to start screaming for help.
Those men a few hundred yards away aren’t the type to help a damsel in distress.
So I blubber and cry into the rough bark as he twists my wrists and pins them together to my lower back. “I’m…I’m sorry…I won’t do it again…”
I know I won’t receive an answer, but what I don’t expect is for him to rip the shorts down my legs and bare my ass to the wild. Wriggling in mounting fear, I try to crane my neck and catch a glimpse of him to determine what he’s doing, but he’s impossibly strong, and it’s hopeless.
“Kage…what’re you…please!” I whisper-whine.
The first smack across my ass cheek is heard before it’s felt, a cracking sound echoing through the woods before a fiery, biting pain erupts across my tender skin, forcing me up onto my toes, my jaw dropping open and a garbled screech clawing its way up my throat.
Did he just fucking spank me?
Before that fully registers, the next slap comes right atop the first, layering my pain to a flaming hot degree, and I sob into the tree. “Stop it! I’m sorry!”
My voice is high pitched and horrified, but he doesn’t seem to care; the next slap is the hardest yet, making me rise up onto my toes again as I desperately try to escape the pain. “Kage, Kage please!”
He follows up my pleas with two more smacks, each harder than the last, until my entire body is quivering and my chin is wobbling as I sob.
Snot and tears coat my face, my arms burning, my joints aching from being forced into this position for so long.
Just when I think he’s done, he switches the hands holding my wrists and starts in on my other ass cheek, the skin on skin as loud as those little white pop-its you throw on the ground during the summer holidays.
Kage is not my father, and it’s clear he feels not an ounce of remorse for how he’s punishing me.
But the pain has a strange way of making you focus solely on that, and in the span of time it takes for him to draw back and hit me again, the clarity rings forth.
I’m in his world now whether I like it or not, and I have to play by his rules or face the dire consequences.
He spins me back around, his livid eyes searching my puffy, tear-stained face.
Not an ounce of sympathy lies in his furious, golden eyes, and his palm encircles my throat, tilting my chin up as he leans in.
My ass stings and throbs, and every time a piece of bark rubs against my heated flesh, I wince and cry that much harder.
But my punishment is far from over. Eyes locked on mine, he slaps my pussy so hard that I scream, the sound choked off the second he pushes me by my throat back into the tree.
Air supply cut off, my mind goes hazy, and he slaps me again and again and again, a demonic look in his gaze.
Every time he smacks me, it spreads my lips just enough for the pain to lace through my clit.
And although it hurts, it’s also making me unbearably wet.
He repeats his ministrations, letting me suck in a breath, slapping my clit, and choking me the second I cry out. I lose count of how many times he does this, those damn eyes still never leaving my face, his reverence unyielding and devout.
Slap. Scream. Choke.
He reels back to hit me again, only this time, he shoves his two middle fingers through my embarrassingly wet pussy, pumping and twisting and thrusting so hard and so deep that it fucking hurts.
But I’m the one who said I thought I’d like it.
And I hate how much I do.
He rips his fingers out and releases the pressure on my throat for a moment, just long enough for me to sob and suck in a few gulps of oxygen.
His eyes have become transfixed on my face, the rage in his gaze turning them into molten gold.
He slaps my clit again, and I lurch forward with a cry that he’s quick to cut off.
Two more slaps send tidal waves of pleasure through my lower belly, each one building upon the last like stair steps to euphoria.
He fucks me with his fingers again, abusing my soaked cunt in sloppy, ruthless ways.
He lets me breathe, and I fall forward, my head crashing into his sturdy shoulder as I pant.
Kage, however, is still enraged by my actions, and as he replaces pressure on my throat and raises my head, he shoves a third finger into me and pushes—up, up, up, until my pelvic bones are seated painfully on his hand and my toes just barely brush the dead leaves on the forest floor.
His thumb finds my clit, and he rubs quick, jerky circles over it while wriggling his fingers inside me; two, against my g-spot, and the middle splitting me in half, on its quest to find my womb. It’s immense pain mixed with fucking immeasurable pleasure, and the outcome is catastrophic for me.
My calves tense, my toes point, and my entire body convulses as I come, coating his hand in fluids because he’s made me squirt.
Bringing me back down to Earth, he thrusts so hard and fast the liquid douses my quivering legs, my head so light from lack of oxygen that I feel like this orgasm has stretched into an eternity, and I never want it to end.
Kage’s long, deft fingers fuck me into a second orgasm, only this time he releases my throat and I fall into him, teeth sinking through his shirt and into his skin as I muffle my primal scream.
We’re both left panting and exhausted, and as night settles quietly around us, he withdraws his fingers, the squelching sound of how soaked my pussy became igniting my shame at what just happened.
Yanking myself away from him, he lets me go. My palms find the rough bark behind me, my ass aching, my pride decimated. Chin wobbling, I find his eyes through the night. He’s still holding onto a small bit of anger, but it’s lessened considerably.
It would be safer for him if he’d remained irate, because now I’m livid.
“I fucking hate you,” I seethe.
If only he knew I hated myself more.