Wake to Dream(37)
She wouldn’t break beneath him, wouldn’t allow her mind to shatter as easily as her heart. She wouldn’t give him her soul as easily as she was giving him her body.
With slow, controlled movements, Max unbuttoned his shirt until it hung open to reveal the strong physique hinted to by the taut pull of the material across his shoulders and chest. Shadows highlighted every curve of his pecs and abs, the V that ran down from his waist to bury itself beneath the waistline of his pants. Before this day, she would have been powerless to refuse the advances of a man as beautiful as Max Frost, and even now with the darkness so obvious within him – the cruelty of his touch, the crimes he’d committed against her – she was still powerless to resist his seductive charm.
However, fear was still her constant companion. Fear and anger for everything he’d taken and she’d lost.
The buckle of his belt clanged like a soft whisper across the room. His pants pulled open, but not pulled away. He stalked towards her with smooth, unhurried movements, allowing the pressure to build with each solitary step he made.
His wasn’t a violent rape, but it was rape just the same. He left her no options for refusal, no room with which she could retreat. His was the most insidious type of violence, violating her body while at the same time violating her mind.
You’re allowing him to do this…
You haven’t told him no…
The tears fell faster as those words assaulted her thoughts, the reality that she had given up and given in to his dark and sinister desires.
When he was finished taking her, she wouldn’t have him to blame alone. She didn’t fight like her instincts screamed for her to do. She didn’t have to be forced by crushing blows or the threat of death.
No. She simply lay down and let him win.
The bed sunk beneath his weight. A prowling tiger whose shoulders moved with a feline grace, he crawled up to hover above her. His heat was a blanket that covered her, his blue eyes the cool, icy threat that sent chills across her sweat dampened skin. Caged against the mattress by strong arms that were as thick as they were rigid, Alice forced herself to close her eyes. But he wouldn’t give her that escape.
“Look at me when I fuck you.”
There was no anger to his tone, however every cold syllable dripped with the threat of sensual violence.
She opened her eyes, her breath catching in her throat as Max’ head dipped down so that his tongue could taste the tears that were still relentlessly falling.
Her head fell back against the bed, his hand brushing over her hair where it fanned out across the mattress. With one swift flick of his wrist, he tangled the hair around his fist, pulling her head back further until her neck arched painfully, his teeth sinking down against the skin hard enough to draw blood.
Crying out, her body bucked beneath his weight, and she stared at him with frightened eyes to see the blatant desire written across every inch of his dangerous expression.
His lips glistened with the remnants of her tears. Locking his gaze to hers, a gaze that was every bit as cold as it was staggering, he said, “You wanted to know your monster, Alice. This is what he is.”
There wouldn’t be any more lies between them, not until he’d taken all she had to give.
His lips brushed across her neck, trailing down until they ran the length of her shoulder. A chill rushed over her body, her head turning slightly as her eyes locked to the television screen that had become her never ending horror.
Beaten, abused, alone – the woman whose face was never seen, whose body had been broken beneath the weight of futility.
For her, Alice thought. I’ll live through this only for her. I’m the strong one. I’m the survivor. I’m the one who can endure his violence and his rage.
His greedy hands explored her body, the rough pads of his fingers sliding along her rib cage, feather soft in their pressure, and aggravating in how they claimed her regardless of her acceptance of him. Teeth grazed her neck, a sharp row of enameled bone that warned her with a harsh bite every time she squirmed or tried to move away from the places he touched.
Unable to resist the way he caressed her, Alice grit her own teeth, the muscles of her jaw locking down until pain shot across her cheek. She refused to look at him like he'd demanded, refused to look away from the woman for whom she was tolerating this slow and seductive abuse.
But despite the nagging whispers in her head that she should fight or scream or claw at him with her nails until he had no choice but to pull away, her body responded to the strength of his hands, the blistering warmth of his skin that covered her own, the masculine notes of his scent that melted her to that bed, wanton and desirous for him to fill up the spaces that had long remained vacant, unused and empty.
"Look at me, Alice." The command was a subtle threat, a hissed reminder that she couldn't escape in her head, that every sense she had would submit to the man that worked her into a panicked frenzy.
Her rebellion still an electric spark inside her, she couldn't turn her head, couldn't ignore the tears that were cold and wet against her cheek, couldn't force herself to face her monster.
His fist, still clenching her tangled mess of hair, tugged sharply, pain like spider webs crawling across her scalp, a spreading fire that would never be contained. She cried out when his other hand gripped her chin, forcing her face to turn to him, her wide eyes locked to the icy wrath of deep artic blue, pale and insidious.