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For Topher, I was disposable, despite his sick torture fantasies. He let me go. Never put up a fight.

James, on the other hand, has been obsessed with me since the first dinner.

But he’s still hiding something. By the look in his eyes, I can tell it’s possessive. Dark. Unhinged.

I want it.

“Say it.” I glare at him. “Fucking say it.”

The grip on my throat tightens. He pins my body to the bed, his cock throbbing against my pussy.

“If anyone kills you, it’s me who’ll do it. And I won’t. Ever.”

That’s the last warning I get before he draws back, flipping me onto my stomach. I have a split second to consider the meaning behind what he said. I’m sickened by how I find comfort in it. How my pussy aches to be filled by him.

Being murdered by a man who’s that obsessed with me shouldn’t be better than having him send me out of his home indefinitely. But it is better.

What’s even better is he won’t do either.

“Come here,” he grunts, pulling my hips up. Forcing my legs apart.

When he’s between them, his comforting weight presses to my back.

His hand is firm as it angles my head to the side. Softer when he tucks my hair behind my ear.

James holds me there, making me look at the wrath, determination, and lust on his face.

My stomach flutters; my lips part for him. I need him to kiss me. I need every part of him, the good, the bad, the psychotic. I need it on such a visceral level I could scream.

“James.”

“Not now, Ophelia.” Yes, yes now, because he can’t help himself. Briefly, his lips are on mine. His mouth is sucking the air out of me. “Not when I’m this close to snapping.”

“I wouldn’t mind it if you?—”

“Shut up.” He’s up in a blink, sending pain throughout my body when he grabs fistfuls of my ass.

I’m sore, and it hurts, but it’s him administering the pain.

The only man in my life. “You’re going to let me fuck your pretty, virgin pussy.

You’ll let me own you. Let me stretch you, make you cry.

Make you scream my name. That’s what we’re going to do. ”

I watch his abs ripple. His arm muscles flex, the veins accentuated like a work of art.

“Unless it’s more begging coming out of your mouth.” He takes himself out, grips his cock, lining himself up to my pussy. He’s barely an inch in, and I gasp. He’s so big that I don’t think I can take it. “You’re going to shut up.”

He runs his hands over the curve of my ass and traces them up to my hips.

“It’ll be painful, Ophelia.” His jaw tics. “Just like being obsessed with you hurts me.”

Emotion spears my body in half, then James shoves himself into me. Bottoms out. All the way in, every inch of him.

No sound comes out of me. I can’t scream, gasp, or cry. My mouth is open, only shock coursing through me. My head tries to make sense of this immense pain. This tearing sensation. Of how ruthless he’s being.

“Get out!” I drag myself an inch forward. He yanks me right back to where I was. “Get out! I don’t want it.”

Except I do. Except I moan, even when I try to escape him.

He stays there, buried inside me. His thick length pulses, swelling and stretching me. His blue eyes are near pitch black. He stares at me, offering no comfort. No affection. No recognition that I’m hurt.

I hate him.

I want him.

“Sonnet.”

Crack!

His hand on my ass is white-hot pain.

Crack!

“You’re forgetting your place.” He pulls me closer, drags himself halfway out, then bucks his hips. His cock goes so deep it’s impossible to catch my breath. “I own you.” James pulls out, barely, only to ram back harder into me. “You’re mine.”

“Please, stop.” It’s a lie. We both know it. I push my ass into him. I need him. My heart aches for him.

“You will do as I say.” Every word is a thrust. A vicious, ruthless thrust. “You’ll be a good girl.”

“I won’t ever be a good girl for you.” I press my fingers into the bed and give him more of me. Give him everything while I look back over my shoulder. “Ever.”

“Liar.”

His eyes slide down my back, my ass. To where we connect. It’s like watching a predator sink his teeth into his prey. There’s hunger there. An out-of-control, basic need. Through the pain and shame and hate, I feel it too.

“Oh, fuck.” James slows the roll of his hips, but he goes deeper. The pain and pleasure intensify. My lust is earth-shattering. “Your blood on my cock. Fuck, Ophelia. Fuck . I own you. Your pussy is mine. Your life is mine. You’ll never be anyone else’s. Fucking no one’s.”

“Never yours, either.”

“No.” Crack! “Don’t you dare say it. You’re so wet for this. You’re such a slut for my dick. Taking it, fuck , like such a good, filthy girl. Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Our bodies make the most obscene slapping sounds every time he pushes into me. A shiver runs through my legs, through every part of me. I more than need him. I breathe for him. I’m this close to coming.

James takes me even closer and closer to that edge for so long that I forget how to speak. I forget my own name.

When it gets too much, when I clench around him and scream his name, he’s there.

A hand around my nape. Another one between my thighs, rubbing, pinching. Pleasuring.

“I’m going to fuck babies into you.” His eyes are my entire world. His body is my home. I feel it. I know it. “But not before you come all over my cock, Ophelia.”

I release a moan so visceral that I hardly recognize my own voice.

“Please.” Please, let me stay. Please, fix this. Us. Please, please, please.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” His touch is electrifying.

His words are harsh and hot, sending me over the edge.

A rope snaps, and pleasure spreads throughout me.

“Look at you. Coming for me like that. When I’m balls deep inside your cunt.

When I hurt you. When I defile you. God, you’re filthy. My filthy girl. Fucking mine.”

Pummeling into me harder, he comes with my name on his lips. He looks furious, unhinged, and possessive.

He looks like the man who owns me.

“Yours,” I whisper, feeling my sanity tearing at the seams. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Somehow, though, this insanity is perfect. This is where I’m supposed to be. “Yours.”