Six(21)

Maybe because we’d already had sex. A lot of very good sex, for hours. Maybe I was developing Stockholm Syndrome.

The latter I doubted, simply because I continued to be scared of and hate the man. Was some good, rough sex before I died such a bad thing to enjoy? There was a lot of certainty that he was going to kill me if I couldn’t escape—was it really so bad to not be absolutely miserable before I died?

Was I supposed to be nothing but a helpless pool of woman, cowering from him, giving him every bit of power out of fear for what I already knew he was going to do?

No. That was the one thing I had control of in a situation out of my control. It was my choice to give up, and I wasn’t going to do it.

But I was going to give in to the way his body felt against mine. To the pleasure of a man.

Harsh breath against my neck in time with his thrusts. A lot of his weight was balanced on the hand on my neck, and it pushed me further into the bed.

Even his angry f*ck had my * clenching around him. Trying to assert himself over me with his strength only made my eyes fluttered every time he bottomed out.

There was no sound, no warning as he slammed against me, jerking as his balls emptied his come deep inside me.

Denied an orgasm again.

“Your life is mine,” he hissed into my ear. “There are consequences for disobedience. Remember that, because the next time, I won’t be half as nice.”





I hummed a tune. An annoying one.

All on purpose.

What else was I going to do? Sarcasm was my nature. Bating the beast my fun. There was no stopping who I was, and that alone was bound to get me killed sooner rather than the never I dreamed of.

We’d been at the same motel for three days. The only time I’d gotten fresh air was when Six opened the door in his comings and goings, leaving me chained to the bed of this shithole.

And it really was a shithole. The longer I was there, the more I saw. Good thing I wasn’t a germaphobe, because I didn’t want to overthink what could be lurking in the bed I was lying on.

Over the prior seventy-two hours, I’d become fully immersed in my new reality. Accepting my situation and all. The fact that I was going to die much sooner than later only spurred on my whole let-it-go attitude.

And there was a vision of Elsa from Frozen in her blue gown singing in the snow.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to escape, but the sad news was he knew what he was doing. He engineered the f*ck out of my restraints, giving me another clue to my executioner’s intelligence.

“Shut it,” Six grumbled, the sound muffled by his clenched teeth. “You’re getting on my last nerve.”

I spun onto my stomach and propped up on my forearms. “Then let me go.” For some reason, he had neither forced me to tell what I knew—which I was certain he could easily torture out of me—or killed me. If he was keeping me around for something other than a f*ck, it was lost to me.

He shook his head, eyes still locked on the screen of his super-secret laptop. “Sorry, sweets. You know your only way out is when I kill you.”

I swung my legs behind me, the cuff on my ankle pulling against the leader cable of the trolley system I was attached to, slapping the cable across my hip. “I prefer option B—me walking out of here.”

“You should be thankful to me for every moment you’re breathing. Besides, do you really think you can return to your old life?”

I shrugged. “No, but any life is better than death.”

That caught his attention, and he turned to me. “Are you sure about that?”

I popped up onto my knees. “Are you actually engaging me in a philosophical discussion?”

His eyes narrowed, sending a chill down my spine. Every time he gave me that look, I wondered if I’d finally pushed him too far. Always rattling his cage, trying to incite him. Playing with his fire, stoking his anger, all in the name of conversation to stem my boredom.

“I will shut you up if you don’t stop.”

“By throwing some duct tape over my mouth again?” I smirked up at him.

A dare.

A tempt.

One I knew he’d take.

He stormed over and reached out, fisting my hair and tilting my head back, making me look up at him. “You know exactly how—by shoving my cock down your throat.” His eyes grew darker as his thumb swiped across my bottom lip, his tongue slipping out to wet his own. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

His lips crashed to mine, forcing my mouth open and letting his tongue in with mine. I arched into him, fisting my hand in his shirt collar, drawing him closer.

His reaction was exactly what I was aiming for. After all, I figured I’d reached the mentally broken stage of acceptance of my situation.

Not that it mattered. As much as I hated him for ruining my life, I couldn’t stop my attraction for him. Nothing he did seemed to be able to erase the version of him I met that first night, or how f*cking perfect he felt inside me.

I wanted pleasure, needed it to keep me company while I waited to die, and my body willingly took it any way Six would give it.

He pulled back, leaving me a heavy lidded, flushed, panting mess. His lip twitched, then his grip on my hair tightened, forcing my head back and down to the bed.

“Ow!” I hissed and reached back.

The pain whited out my brain for a moment. When I managed to open my eyes, his dick was the first thing to greet me. He slapped the head against my lip, then brushed it against my cheek. The silky hot skin on his cock was as alluring as his perfect body.