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Like there’s no use denying how I crave for him to bury himself in me again. How he’s not forcing me to want him.
“I told you”—slam—“not to”—pull out—“lie to”—slam harder—“me.”
My back bows like a guitar string for him. The ropes around my wrists and ankles singe my already chafed skin. Marcus’s invasion hurts. He destroys me.
In a depraved, sick kind of way, he also completes me.
“See?” Each ruthless pound into my pussy lifts me higher. He’s forcing me into enjoying what I swore I wouldn’t. “Things are so much easier when you’re honest. When you admit to what we’ve both been denying ourselves for so fucking long.”
The moment my brain drifts to our past, Marcus plants his lips on mine. He kisses me as ferociously as he fucks me. His teeth sink into my bottom lip like I’m his meal to devour.
“Stay with me, Leigh.” He takes one of my breasts in his mouth, letting it out with a pop. “Or I’ll be far less forgiving on your other holes.”
“What you’re doing is wrong.” My voice is breathy, my moans breaking through my words.
“There’s nothing more right than this.” He grips my face, squeezing my cheeks. “We’ve been denied of this and I’m done. Done letting you go. You belong to me. Admit that you want the same thing I do. Fucking say it.”
“Before I found out you were a psycho, maybe.” I seethe. Another orgasm builds inside me, sneaky and ruining the resentful front I put up. “But here we are. You don’t even love me. You’re. Just. A. Psycho.”
“Obsessed. Possessive. Motherfucking territorial.” Marcus lets go of my face to assault my clit with his fingers, his forehead glued to mine. “Not a psycho. I am not—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, and it’s all my fault.
I’m fucked in the head to orgasm from the things he’s saying to me. From imagining what could be more painful, more delicious than being kidnapped, hypnotized, and fucked against—most of—my free will.
The intensity of my second climax pulsates through me. Shaking me to my core.
The screams Marcus commanded me to give him barrel out of my lungs, my unleashed desires taking the shape of my needy cries.
My situation is far worse than plain wrong. It’s the worst.
It’s the best.
No.
“That’s it.” Marcus drills harder into me, making me one with the bed. “All that emptiness you were feeling when you came by yourself? Those days you missed me? When you peeped into my room?”
I’m so high, I don’t even have it in me to be ashamed of having been caught. I stare into his black eyes. My body is already addicted to him, begging for another hit. Just a small one to prolong the best and worst climax I’ve had in my life.
“Never again, Leigh.” True to his word, Marcus gives me everything. His strained expression tells me he’s close, but he’s holding on. For me. “You’ll never be desperate for my cock again. It’s yours now. I’m all yours now. And you’ll learn to accept it. You’ll learn to need me.”
He grunts with each thrust, and I want to hate it. Except it vibrates out of his chest to mine, rattling me from the inside out. Dampness brims in my eyes when I realize I fall harder for him.
Fuck no.
“You can make me come. You can take my virginity,” I whisper. “You’ll never have my soul. I will never love you. Never.”
“Is that so?” He crushes his lips to mine, his tongue invading my mouth.
I pinch my mouth shut, my lips gripping his tongue, stopping him. Trying to, at least.
Anger reverberates in his growl. He slams his cock into me ruthlessly, coaxing my mouth open as he does.
He kisses me into submission, and eventually, I do. Because it does feel good. Because I do need it.
Because I haven’t been kissed like this for as long as I’ve lived.
He possesses me. Consumes me. And I bend for him. I respond, kissing him back. Fighting him, hating him, but still kissing him back.
