Page 52 of Cursed

His smile is victorious. “No, what? No, don’t stop? Or no, you’re not my slut?”

I turn my face away.

“Look at me and answer,” he commands. “What do you want?”

I stare into Landon’s eyes, trapped between the cold marble at my back and the burning heat of him against my front. The question hangs between us, demanding an answer I’m terrified to give.

“I want...” My voice catches

His grip tightens on my wrists. “Say it, Sadie.”

“I want you,” I whisper, the admission torn from somewhere deep.

“As what?” His hips push forward, reminding me of what I’m missing. “Tell me what you are to me.”

The words sit heavy on my tongue. I’ve never been this person—never wanted to be owned, possessed, reduced to someone’s plaything. But with Landon, these degrading words feel like freedom.

“I’m your slut, sir,” I finally confess.

His smile is triumphant. “Again. Louder.”

“I’m your slut, sir,” I repeat, the words sending a shameful thrill through my body.

“Good girl,” he growls, rewarding me by driving forward again. “Now say it like you mean it.”

I gasp as he establishes a brutal rhythm, each thrust punctuating his dominance. “I’m your slut, sir,” I cry out, no longer caring who might hear. “I’m your fucking slut, Landon!”

He releases my wrists suddenly, and my arms fall to his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles. Despite my freedom, I don’t push him away. Instead, I pull him closer, surrendering to what we both know I’ve wanted all along.

“See? Was that so hard to admit?” He asks.

I shake my head, beyond words as pleasure builds inside me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he takes what belongs to him. Because I do belong to him now—at least in this moment, in this twisted fantasy we’re creating together.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his pace becoming erratic. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I gasp, and for the first time since this began, there’s no hesitation in my voice. No resistance. Just truth.

22

LANDON

The weight of Sadie’s head on my lap feels right as she sleeps, her breathing steady and deep. I trace the curve of her cheek with my finger, admiring the marks I’ve left on her skin.

Mine.

The word echoes in my mind.

Vane appears at the edge of the platform. He nods at me, his expression flat. “Time’s up. We need to leave them alone now.”

I glance down at Sadie’s sleeping form, her body curled against me. An unfamiliar reluctance grips me. Usually, I can’t wait to disentangle myself from whoever I’ve been with, the pursuit more satisfying than the aftermath. But with her...

“Landon.” Vane’s voice hardens. “The protocol is clear.”

“I know the fucking protocol,” I snap, but he’s right. The Hunt has specific rules, even for us. The women get time alone between phases—it’s part of the game we’ve designed.

I ease myself from beneath Sadie’s head. Her face twitches in her sleep as I slide free, a small sound escaping her lips that sends an unexpected pang through my chest. I dress quickly, eyes never leaving her.

“You’re acting strange,” Vane observes.