Brutal Obsession (91)

“Okay.” My voice is pitched low. “I know what this is about.”

He swallows, and his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips. He seems caught, for a moment, when I bite my lower lip.

“Tell me where it is.” He’s swaying closer.

It’s just going to make him angrier.

He leans in, stopping shy of my lips. I’ve been staring at his, too, and now I meet his gaze. He’s frigid. Cold enough to freeze straight through.

“You’ll never fucking find it,” I say. “Because I burned it to ashes.”

He stops. Even his chest stops rising and falling. And then he laughs. Hard. He rocks back on his heels and throws his head back, the noise unleashing from him like he’s gone mad. He swipes at tears in his eyes and finally exhales, his chuckles subsiding.

Greyson reaches for me, and I’ve got nowhere to go. I’m not surprised when his hand closes around my throat.

He shoves me against the wall and follows, keeping his face in mine. His breath is hot on my fevered skin, and he smirks. “You’re not a good liar, sweetheart.”

My heart drops. “I had you for a moment.”

“And for a moment, I considered strangling you and leaving your body here.”

More lies. Right?

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he continues. “Last chance for tonight to end… well, not good. But better than where it’s headed.”

I gulp.

“Where is it?”

I imagine the photo album. Who knew a leather-bound book of memories could cause so much trouble? And I know, if I want my life to keep on track at all, I’m not going to break. I can’t do that to myself.

At the end of the day, I’m the only one who’s going to stand up for me.

I took it so Greyson would finally hate me enough to leave me alone.

“Go fuck yourself, Devereux,” I hiss.

His grip tightens on my throat. My oxygen is cut off, and he watches me until my face is surely beet red. My whole body is hot, burning to the touch. I stare at him, into his eyes, and I thought I would be tough. I thought I could outlast him.

I can’t anymore. The need to breathe is too high. I yank at the bindings and struggle to get away from him, simply out of self-preservation.

But there’s no escaping it.

Again.

Into the darkness I go.

When I wake up again, I’m in the same position, leaning mostly on the wall. My fingers are tingling and numb from being above my head for so long.

However long that has been.

This time, my shorts are gone, too. My legs are open wide. I shift and feel something… in me? It’s too dark to see.

Then the object buzzes to life.

It’s inside me and pressed to my clit. I gasp at the sensation, which keeps growing until it’s almost violent. My back arches, and my feet scrabble at the floor for purchase.

And then I spot Greyson, across the room in the shadows, and I come.

Violently.

It doesn’t turn off. I draw my legs back together, but I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. Worse, probably, because my clit is throbbing under the vibrations. I scream when another orgasm is ripped from me. A wordless cry. My body quakes, and I sag back when it finally switches off.

The only sound in the room is my ragged breathing.

“Where is it?”

I don’t answer.

He turns it on again, but low. Not enough to do anything except flutter inside me. I squirm, gripping the bar above my head and pulling myself up again.

“This your worst?” I ask.

He saunters across the room and flicks open a knife. It makes a little snick noise, and the moonlight glints across the metal. He pries my legs apart and kneels between my legs. He runs the tip of the knife down my chest, between my breasts.

Then back up, around the underside of my breast and around, spiraling closer to my nipple. Even knowing that if he could maim me in more physical ways, I’m entranced by it.

I’m horrified of my own reaction.

And the vibrator just makes it worse. Or better.

“No, Violet,” he says softly. “This isn’t my worst. Not by a long shot.”

My breathing is coming harder. My heart has kicked it up a notch. And when he finally digs the blade into my skin, dragging it diagonally down my breast, I’m not surprised. The pain, twisting my already sensitive nerves, blends with the pleasure in my pussy.

“I’ve never gotten to explore this side of myself,” he admits.

We’re both fixated on the blood welling up on my skin.

“Deeper,” I whisper.

He grunts and leans forward, licking the line. His tongue rasps against the slice, collecting my blood.

And then he gives it back to me, catching the nape of my neck and pressing his open mouth to mine. His hand gropes my breast, and his nails dig into the cut.

I come like that. With my blood on our tongues and the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.

He strokes himself, then grabs my hips and flips me to my knees, facing away from him. The vibrator shifts, reaching a new depth, and I arch. My only view now is of the wall in front of me. I twist my wrists to grab the bar better, supporting my torso.

“Where is it, Vi?”

He pulls my hips back toward him and palms the toy. It presses more firmly on my clit, and although the setting is still low, my body is strung tight from the multiple orgasms. My muscles ache, but I feel boneless.