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He ends the call before she can answer.
“Marcus?”
“She’s fine,” he growls.
Then he throws me over his shoulder like a ragdoll. We’re both quiet, the conversation seeming lightyears away as he carries me to the bedroom. Without a word, he honors his promise, taking his time as he gives me his cock in every hole for hours.
Whatever happens, I trust him. I have to. Otherwise, I’ll be numbed by fear. Completely paralyzed.
And I won’t let fear freeze me in place.
The only person I’m getting dollified for is Marcus.
Fear can go fuck itself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Marcus
Asurge of adrenaline hit me while I jogged around our house. It was a sudden shock to my system. Strong. Jarring. Heating me through and through.
The need to bite, spank and inflict pain woke inside me, and it wouldn’t rest. I sprinted back to the house, throwing myself into the cold shower.
Didn’t help. My inexplicable aggression only firmed its grip on me. Even though I watched Rylan and made sure she’s home and not with Dr. Hatchett.
Drinking chamomile tea has failed me just as much.
I snarl at the useless drink and down what’s left of it down the drain.
I’m. Still. Reeling.
Of course, I am. What did I expect? I told Leighton I live with a monster inside me.
And here it is. Beneath my jeans and black T-shirt, it claws its way out.
It’s broken free from the place where he hides when I love Leighton like a decent man should.
My guess is, it senses the imminent danger. How I’ll have to leave her soon.
How I’ll have to confront my daughter. Save the love of my life.
Glue the three of us together and it works out.
It’ll be a struggle. A fight.
But I’m not going anywhere today. And yet here it—he—is.
The energy inside me is explosive. Begging for an outlet.
Needing a taste of her. To defile her and humiliate her. Make her cry in agony. Make her come with my name on her lips. So much that she’ll lose her voice.
As I lean against the doorway to our bedroom, I might look calm.
I’m as feral as I’d ever been.
She’s beautiful. Delectable, lying on her stomach. The covers are scrunched in a pile next to her. She must’ve pushed them off her in her sleep while I’ve been busy.
It’s as if, even unconscious, she could tell I’d need her at my disposal. To take her in her sleep.
