41
I screw my eyes shut, feigning sleep. I'm terrified.
I officially have gotten myself in too deep.
My mind is an endless labyrinth. Each time I think I have it figured out, I hit a dead end.
I'm ensnared within his disastrous psycho behavior.
I grip the sheet bringing it up to my chest.
The door creaks open. A sliver of light lands along my closed eyes lighting up my eyelids.
Unsteady shuffling echoes along the wood planked floor within these four walls.
The bed dips beside me, an alarming omen of what is to come.
The heat of his body lights up my spine.
I can feel his heated gaze along my exposed skin even in the darkness.
I despise how my body reacts to him. Bad boys have always been my downfalls if only for the fact I don't deserve better.
His scorching touch feathers along my neck and spine.
His asperous caress sears along my skin.
His fingertips slowly inch my oversized T-shirt farther up my body.
I fight the urge to arch into his touch.
The heat under my skin surges through my veins.
He creeps forward over me. His presence lingering.
For a moment I worry he's caught me in my lie and somehow knows I'm awake.
His lips skim along my cheek, neck, and collarbone.
The smell of liquor assaults my senses. My mind reels with what sick game he has planned this time.
I should run and never look back. His crazy is escalating. I'm afraid I won't survive it.
He rips the covers from my body. I refuse to breathe in fear I won't make it out alive. His shaky hands roam down to his latest design on my body. He lifts my bandages and traces patterns over the charred flesh etching along each burnt letter of his name. I fight back a wince.
Before I can react, his hand reaches out and clasps around my neck in a death grip.
My eyes fly open to meet the eyes of a savage beast.
Light pours in from the cracked door illuminating the room enough to see the unhinged awestruck look in his eye.
His pupils are dilated while his flame tattoo under his eye dances in the lowlight.
His chest heaves wildly. A chaotic seduction.
He leans in to plant a tender kiss to my lips.
A bipolarity to his violent, sovereign gripping nature.
His fingertips dig into my pulse point with a heavy pressure that threatens to take me under.
His powerful thighs lock me in place. My body sinks into the mattress.
I try to open my mouth to say anything, but his grip is unrelenting.
“Tempting deadly Nightshade,” he slurs against my skin. His free hand traces up my thighs. I refuse to let him fuck me without drugs. He doesn't understand my need to be numb. The haunting memories will resurface, and I'll fall into a helical vortex into the pits of my demented tortured mind.
“P—please.” I grip his biceps, pleading for an ounce of remorse. Choked cries leave my throat. He offers me nothing but destruction.
“Shhh,” he hisses against the shell of my ear. “Stay quiet or I'll slide my cock between those lush lips, sweetheart,” he purrs. He loosens his grip enough so I can suck in a breath.
He slides the borrowed boxers off my body with ease. He slides two fingers into my soaked pussy. “Such a wet whore. Taste yourself,” he orders, releasing my throat. He pulls his fingers free. He forces my lips apart then jams his cum coated fingers all the way to the back of my throat. I gag.
He tsks. “Nah, sweetheart. They'd correct those gag reflexes real quick in the Void. Why don't I help.”
My brows scrunch in confusion. He releases his weight off me and drags my hips down the bed so his thighs are flush with my shoulders. His jeans clad crotch is level with my mouth. His thick bulge is prevalent.
“I'm not—” the words die in my throat when he slaps my cheek.
Not hard, but enough to grab my attention.
His hand moves to his zipper, freeing his already throbbing hard length.
It's still red and raw from earlier. I’m convinced he fucked me for hours in the cemetery.
It doesn't deter him, if anything his need isn't satiated. He's a nympho.
Without prompting, I part my lips. It's instinctive.
That incites a smirk on his face. “Such a well-trained whore. That's such a good girl,” he praises and it lights a fire within me.
A reminder of what I am. I hollow out my cheeks and take him deep into my throat.
He cuts off my oxygen when he takes a fistful of my hair.
His erotic groans make me throb between my legs.
His abs contract. His torso hunches over while his head sags forward.
He keeps his eyes zeroed in on me. Evil swirls in his irises, but I want to taste his danger. His hips thrust on their own accord.
“Mmm, fuckkk, sweetheart,” his broken pleasureful cries spur me on. I swirl my tongue under his shaft teasing him. His resolve is slipping. I almost want to press to see how far and how extreme he can be.
Punish me. Tears spill from my eyes without warning.
An atavistic echo of my past. They have a hold of me.
Dreams of my past intertwine with the present like a specter.
I reach out to claw at his thighs. He doesn't relent.
His pace increases until he stills, convulsing.
Hot cum fills my mouth. Warm and salty. I swallow, my throat clicking at the copious amount expelling from his cock.
His grip loosens on my hair. His ragged breath is the only sound now. He says nothing. He unglues himself from me and passes out next to me with his cock still out.
The liquor steals his consciousness.
I stay absolutely still, afraid to move an inch and stir the beast.
This is my chance. Possibly the only one to escape this insanity.
My mind is at war with my heart. The danger is written plainly in black and white and yet giving up my scholarship is not an option.
The painful realization envelopes me that I didn't earn it.
I was chosen for my weaknesses. An offering to the Elites due to my subdued, compliant nature in my sexual haven.
Kieran's breath evens out beside me. The door is still ajar illuminating his gorgeous curls and sharp jaw line.
He's a devil disguised as a God. Even now knowing he has readied me for their personal use I can't stop feeling a heavy insatiable desire for him.
A need to tangle with him. I’m a fool to think he ever felt anything but sexual desire toward me.
This man is incapable of anything other than power, lust, and deception just like his father.
Slowly I shimmy toward the edge of the bed.
My saving grace is he's far too drunk to notice my absence until I'm long fucking gone.
His car keys rest on the end table next to his sleeping form.
The mattress creaks with my shuffled movement.
My feet touch the cold hard wood floor. His oversized T-shirt falls over my thighs. I creep toward his side of the bed.
With each step a pang of fear forms in my throat.
The fear of being caught is almost enough to have me turn back around but I shake off the jitters.
A discarded pile of clothes lay on the floor in a heap alongside his bed.
Dirty or not, I need something to cover my ass and feet in the freezing cold.
I sift through the pile and pull out a thick pair of sweats.
I quietly slide each leg in and pull them on.
My hands shake violently. Each second that ticks by could be my last.
My breath seizes. As I take the keys, they scrape along the wood varnish.
His soft patterned breathing remains steady.
I grip the keys and jam them in my pocket.
I take a risk and open his drawer. My phone stares back at me.
My heart flips in my chest. I pocket it, knowing the consequences if I'm caught.
A pair of sneakers lay beside his bed. They're three sizes too big, but usable.
I slide my foot in each one, then I shuffle backward keeping eyes on him as I leave him behind. I lick my dry, cracked lips before I bolt.