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He remained still for a moment, as if her words had pierced through his own tumultuous emotions. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes locking onto hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart stutter in her chest. His pupils were wide; his eyes were filled with desperation and longing. She cupped his face in her hands. His thumb traced the line of her jaw as if she were made of the finest porcelain.

The air around them was charged with tension and unspoken confessions. The castle walls seemed to close in, trapping them in their own personal hell of desire and manipulation. And in that moment, Ivy decided. If she was going to be his, she would be it on her own terms. She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll say it," she murmured, her voice low and filled with resentment. "But only if you promise me one thing."

Vice's eyes narrowed, his hand stilling on her face. "What?"

"That you won't just use me," she whispered, her eyes flashing with determination. "That you'll... care for me, in you're own twisted way."

Vice's expression softened, his grip on her face tightening almost imperceptibly. "I do care," he said, his voice rough. "More than you know."

The words hung in the air, thick with meaning. Ivy searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deceit, but all she saw was raw honesty. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before,a vulnerability that made her heart ache. She didn't want to believe him, but the tenderness in his touch was undeniable.

With a sigh, she leaned into him, pressing her trembling lips against his. The kiss was gentle, a silent apology and a plea for understanding wrapped into one. He responded in kind, his mouth moving against hers with surprising softness. His hand left her face to grip her hip, but the aggression from before was gone, replaced by a need that seemed almost... tender.

He began to move inside her again, his strokes slow and deliberate. The pain had faded into the background, replaced by a warmth that spread through her body, igniting every nerve ending. His thumb found its way back to her clit, circling it with the same gentle pressure as his kiss. The contrast between the brutal act and the gentle touch was almost too much to bear, but she couldn't bring herself to push him away.

Ivy's hips started to move in sync with his, her body responding despite the tumultuous emotions warring within her. His cock slid in and out of her with an almost painful slowness, as if he was savoring every inch of her. She felt herself building towards something, something she didn't dare hope for in this twisted game of his. But hope it was, a desperate, needy hope that he could be more than just a monster.

Vice's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour as if he were trying to memorize her. His kiss grew more urgent, his tongue delving into her mouth to dance with hers. His touch was a silent apology, a promise of something more. The fire in her core grew hotter, her breaths coming in gasps that mingled with his own.

With each stroke, he claimed her, but it was nothing like the violent possession she had felt before. This was somethingelse entirely, a melding of their very souls. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her back, his teeth nipping at her sensitive flesh just enough to make her shiver with pleasure. His thumb worked her clit in time with his hips, each pass sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

"Vice," she breathed, the name slipping from her lips like a sacred incantation. "I'm yours," she whispered into his ear, the words a sweet surrender that seemed to unleash something primal within him.

His head snapped up, a fiery glow lighting his eyes, and a wicked smile spread across his face like a dark crescent moon. He took a deep, shuddering breath, as if savoring the scent of victory. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice a gruff whisper that sent chills throughout her entire body. His grip on her hips tightened, and he began to thrust into her with renewed vigor.

Ivy felt the heat rising in her, the friction of his cock inside her sending waves of pleasure that she couldn't resist. Her own moans mingled with his grunts of satisfaction, a symphony of lust and power. She had never felt so alive, so consumed by passion. It was a strange feeling so utterly connected to him.

"Fuck me, Vice," she whispered again, her voice barely a breath against his ear. His smile grew wider, more predatory, and his eyes lit up with a fiery hunger. He took her words as a challenge, his strokes becoming more intense, more demanding. Her body was his to use, his to conquer, and she was powerless to stop the exhilarating feeling of being claimed by him.

He reached around to cup her breast, his thumb flicking over the nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Ivy's moans grew louder, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she felt the orgasm building with in her. It was as if every nervein her body was singing with a desperate need to come, to feel that sweet release.

With a final, powerful thrust, Vice pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, her muscles tightening around his cock as she screamed his name. The world around them seemed to fade away as the orgasm washed over her, leaving her trembling and weak in its wake. He followed closely behind, his own release filling her.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Ivy felt a strange sense of peace, despite the horror of what had just occurred. It was as if, in that brief instant, they had found something that transcended their roles as captor and prisoner, villain and victim.

Vice's arms remained wrapped around her, his hands stroking her back in a gentle, almost loving manner. His breathing slowed, and she could feel the tension in his muscles begin to ease. He whispered something she couldn't quite make out, but it sounded like a promise, or perhaps a prayer.

Chapter 19:

The next night, as they lay tangled in the sheets, their bodies were sweaty and sated from another round of passionate combat, she whispered, "Why me?"

He propped himself up on an elbow, he looked at her in the dim light. "Because," he began, his voice gruff, "you're the first person to ever stand up to me, to challenge me in a way that isn't just about power or survival." He paused, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "You've made me feel... human again."

Ivy felt a twinge of something she hadn't expected sympathy. Here was this man, a monster to the outside world, and yet she had seen a glimpse of the man within. "What was you're name?" she asked softly, referring to the time before he became Vice.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice harsh. "That boy is dead."

But she could see the lie in his eyes, the flicker of pain. "What was his name?" she pressed.

For a long moment, he said nothing. "Eric," he murmured.

The revelation was like a key turning in a lock. Suddenly, she saw him not just as her captor but as a person, a soul that had suffered unspeakable torment. "Eric" she said, testing the name on her tongue. "It's a good name."

He flinched at the sound of it, as if it were a relic from a forgotten time. "It's a name that no longer holds any meaning for me."

The tension between them grew thick as they lay there, the weight of their pasts and their precarious future pressing down on them. Ivy knew she had to be careful; she couldn't let herself get too close, no matter how much his vulnerability pulled at her heartstrings.

The next few days were a whirlwind of stolen glances, furtive touches, and a growing sense of urgency. The game had become more intense, the stakes higher than ever before. Ivy felt herself torn between her love for Alice and the strange bond she had formed with Vice. Despite his villainous facade, she knew there was a man beneath the mask, one who had suffered a lifetime of pain and solitude.