Destroyed(41)

His hot breath tingled my back as he reached below and grabbed my breast with harsh fingers.

I shuddered, cursing my body warming for him, melting for him. I should hate the roughness, the lack of humanity in his touch, but he’d ignited the dynamite in my blood with his harsh, unloving commands.

“What promise?” I whispered, already panting.

His fingers hooked onto the sides of my knickers, pulling them down my hips until they rested around my knees on the bed. He groaned as he pushed my legs apart, exposing me.

My head lolled forward as he climbed behind me. The rustle of clothing being removed made my mouth go dry and my heart stop beating.

His finger traced the crack of my ass, dipping lower, following my heat until he found wetness. “Fuck me,” he muttered before swirling the tip of his finger around my entrance. “God, you’re wet.”

My back bowed; my limbs trembled. I’d gone from tense to needing him in one second flat. The tip of his finger entered me before swirling back up to press against my clit.

“I promised I’d make you enjoy f*cking me as much as I’d enjoying f*cking you.” He bent over, smothering my back with his torso. His teeth grazed my neck as the thick hardness of his cock nudged my core. “To do that I’d have to touch you. I’d have to let my guard down. I don’t have the strength.”

One hand grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking my neck back while another secured my hip, pinning me in place. His erection rocked against my outer flesh, hot and hard.

I wasn’t ready.

I’m not ready.

Fear lit up my heart and I wiggled, trying to dislodge his hold. “Wait. No—”

“I’m sorry, dobycha,” he groaned, thrusting violently, coldly, viciously into me. My elbows gave way and I fell headfirst into the pillow. My bound hands couldn’t support me.

Everything burned. Everything hurt.

I gasped for breath, sucking in material as the searing, frightening pain of being taken violently made me cry out. Hot tears were absorbed instantly by the pillow as Fox rammed into me again. He lost himself, turning inhuman as he rode me. My scalp screamed where he held me captive by my hair.

Gone was the lust; the sparks of need in my blood. All I felt was used and nothing more than trash.

I bit my lip till I drew blood as he withdrew, only to slam into me again. “Yes. Fuck.” He sounded far away, no longer with me mentally.

His fingers gripped my hips, holding me in place as he savagely thrust. Every pound sent shockwaves of agony through me. His hipbones dug into my ass, adding more bruises to the internal ones.

If there was any blessing in being taken so horribly, it was how soon it was over. Fox thrust harder and harder, driving me deeper and deeper into the pillow. He filled me to the brink until I thought I’d split in two.

But then he froze, jetting hot wetness deep inside me, groaning. The second the last pulse of his release filled me, he pulled out and climbed off the bed.

My entire body trembled with adrenaline and unhappiness. I didn’t dare move until the sound of the bedroom door opened and closed, as Fox left me. With a ragged gasp, I flopped to my side and curled into a tight ball.

The stickiness of his come smeared my inner thighs, and the chain cuffs dug into my wrists, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

I couldn’t bring myself to think or curse or run.

Yet again life proved I was an idiot. A greedy money-grubber who thought she could see something dark and troubled in a man. Who believed in the fundamental goodness of people enough to let herself be used and tossed away.

It’d happened before. It’d happened again. I hadn’t learned my lesson.

I lay with my eyes wide open, watching the slow journey of the sun from sunrise to high noon to sunset. I couldn’t bring myself to think how to fix this or even to think of Clara.

I’d besmirched myself, tarnishing my hope with reality.

Fuck two hundred thousand dollars. Fuck him.

When twilight fell and I’d had enough of wallowing in the filth I’d created, I stood gingerly and hobbled to the bathroom.

Avoiding looking in the mirror, I focused on the silver around my wrists. With gritted teeth, I yanked them with all my strength, sweating with effort until a link pried open, allowing me to get free.

I couldn’t remove the necklace or belly chain, but at least my hands were free. Free to shower, get dressed, and walk out the f*cking door.

Obsidian Fox had messed with the wrong girl. I would leave, then I would come back and make him regret ever hurting me.

I would teach him that even though he might be haunted, it gave him no right, none, to hurt others.

I would be his nightmare.





Life was never easy.

I learned that thanks to a rigorous training program that left me mostly dead and fumbling for a way back to life.

I didn’t make excuses for my behaviour. I knew what I was.

But I found a way to deal with the blackness in my brain. I found unwilling victims and gave them my pain. It was a trade-off and it worked—for a time.

I thought I could wipe my violent past free all thanks to the cure I’d found in one woman.

I piled all my hopes and pleas and prayers into a miracle, and it f*cking ruined me when it turned out to be false.

Instead of treating her kindly, I slipped back to the past and lost.

I raped her. I hurt her. I made her run and leave me.