“You’re worse than Zed. Here I thought maybe I’d be safe with you. You are just a bunch of sickos,” I spit out, my feelings shifting rapidly from frightened to angered. My feet kick again, trying to hit him wherever I can. I scream, “I hate you, all.”
When I stop kicking, I notice that Talon is just standing there watching me. His breaths are labored and unfulfilled. I take notice of every inhale and exhale. “You said he didn’t do anything in that room.” He speaks the words as if each one was a sentence on its own.
Defeat overpowers me. “I just wanna go home, Talon.”
His hand retreats from my shorts and grips tightly onto my face. His signature move to get my attention. “What.the.fuck.did.Zed.do?”
“Nothing. I told you, he didn’t do anything. He may have if you hadn’t come in the room, but fuck, Talon, maybe I would have been better off. At least he didn’t restrain me and assault me.”
“I didn’t assault you.”
“Then what exactly is your endgame here, hmm? Doesn’t feel like you are trying to make me laugh in this laughing chair.”
“You were curious. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before following me into a torture room.” He begins shining the flashlight around the room.
My eyes skim the room, following the light. That’s exactly what this place is. It’s a torture room. One wall holds a row of wooden crates that look like they were used as cages. There are old hospital beds on another side and a bunch of mechanical equipment surrounding a chair. I don’t even have to ask; I know exactly what that chair is used for.
“Can you please—” I’m cut off by the sound of the clamps opening. One hand drops free, then the other. Taking a deep and audible breath, I rub my fingers around my wrists. Once he unlocks the straps over my shoulders, I jump down, without even giving it a second thought.
“You’re such an asshole.” I swat at him with both hands. “I mean it. I fucking hate you, Talon Porter.” His fingers grip my wrist, stopping my movements. His body presses against mine as he takes both of my arms into one hand and pushes me against an open space on the wall. With one of his hands free, he slides his open palm down my side, then to my ass, gripping it tightly. His touch sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.
“Guess what, baby girl?” he mutters into the thin air between us. “I hate me, too.”
“Why are you doing this?” I choke out. “Why won’t you just let me leave?”
My head tilts instinctively as his lips shadow my neck. “Shh,” he whispers, “No more questions.”
Closing my eyes, I fight hard against the feelings that are washing over my body. I fight the imprints of his touch on my skin, every tingle, and every craving for more. Swallowing hard, I try not to feel. Not anger, not fear, not hate, not the longing desire to have his hand between my thighs again. I hate myself even more than I hate him, because the way his body is ghosting me at this moment makes me want to invite him to take all of me. To possess me. To corrupt me—mind, body, and soul.
“Talon, I—” My voice cracks. Hushed, almost unrecognizable, I say, “I think we should go back with the others.”
“Since when are you such a scaredy cat? The Marni I remember is tough.” His lips continue to trail downward, grazing my collarbone. “She wouldn’t shake beneath any man.” His eyes find mine. I can barely see the color in them, just the black outline of his orbs.
“I am tough. And I’m not scared of you.”
Cold fingers wrap around my waist beneath my sweatshirt. They feel like ice on my bare skin, coursing up my rib cage. “If you’re so tough, why are you still standing here? Why not fight me off and leave?”
I draw in a ragged breath. “I can’t leave until I know this is over. That I won’t find another mysterious box in my bedroom or a cop at my door. I want to know that you guys will leave me alone.”
“Is that all? Or are you afraid that I’ll strap you to that chair and shock parts of your body that crave electricity?” His chest presses harder into me, sandwiching me between him and the wall.
Even if I tried to get away right now, I’d fail. I should try. But, I don’t. I hate that part of me likes the way his touch numbs my skin and his words warm my insides.
His index finger traces my jawline, then glides down my neck to my chest, then slowly down my side. Drawing in a deep breath, I’m unsure how long I was holding it. “I could make you feel so fucking good.”
Bringing my lower lip inward, I bite down, holding it between my teeth. My breaths are staggered as I question my own sanity. My mind begging him to keep going as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of my shorts. Tilting my head back, I let him have me at his mercy.
“Do you think I could make you feel good, baby girl?”
Yes.
“No.”
He chuckles. “I could make you see fucking stars if you let me.”
I’ll let you. Show me them. I beg in silence.
“Do you want me to make you feel good, Marni?” His voice is gruff and lust-filled.
Yes.
Only I don’t say it. Admitting defeat is not something I’m able to do. If he knew how bad I wanted him to shove his fingers inside of me, he’d hold all the power.
He lifts my leg up, and lets it rest on his strong forearm. His hand pressing against the wall, holding me in place while his other hand slides up the leg of my shorts. I close my eyes tightly, internally begging him to do something. Anything to satisfy this undeniable urge to lose myself in him. I’m not even sure if it’s him that I want or just someone to make me feel good. I could just go home and get myself off. My hand moves under the fabric of his shirt.
As I creep higher, unknowingly searching for a grip while I succumb to temptation, his hand slaps it away. “Never do that again,” he gripes. His body tenses up for a sliver of second, but it doesn’t stop him.
Two fingers begin trickling the seams of my panties, and then, without warning, they plummet full force inside of me. My body jerks up as I let out a whimper. Each thrust sends me higher and higher as he fucks me with his fingers. “Oh god.” I moan, bringing my hands behind his head and gripping his hair in my fists. There is nothing soft and gentle about his movements. It’s so rough that it’s painful, but I crave more of the pain.
“Oh fuck.” I gasp, unable to control my outburst.
“You like that, baby girl?” he says, thrusting so deep that I can feel him in my stomach.
“Uh huh.” He sticks in another finger.
“Tell me that I make you feel good.”
When I don’t respond, he curls his fingers inside of me and digs deeper.
“Tell me!” he urges.
Succumbing to his demands, I choke out, “You make me feel good.”
His cock grinds against me as he dry fucks my leg that's still planted firmly on the floor. Completely out of control, I begin panting as he prods at my insides. So fast, so hard, and so unbelievably satisfying. My walls constrict as I feel the evidence of my orgasm pool around the half of his hand that’s shoved inside of me.
My leg begins to quiver in his hold, but he doesn’t stop. Even when I push my leg down with force to drop his arm, he continues to finger me with the same potency, thrusting his cock harder against me. “Fuck,” he growls, “you are soaked.”