Page 72 of Cursed

My vision darkens at the edges, consciousness slipping away as my body shakes beneath him. I’m drowning, unable to breathe, unable to think. There’s nothing but Landon and this all-consuming sensation that’s destroying me from the inside out.

I cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as I fight to stay conscious. The room fades in and out of focus, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as my muscles ripple around him.

Landon’s rhythm falters, his hips jerking against mine as he groans against my skin. The sound vibrates through me. “Sadie,” he growls, his voice strained.

Then I feel it—the hot pulse of him emptying inside me, filling me.

“Oh god,” I gasp, my nails digging crescents into his shoulders as the sensation overwhelms me.

I’ve never felt anything like this. The weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the heat of him spilling inside me, marking me in the most intimate way possible.

It’s filthy and perfect.

My body shudders with aftershocks as he continues to empty himself, each pulse sending another wave of euphoria through me. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, keeping him deep inside, not wanting to lose a single drop.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Fill me up.”

Since my assault, sex has been clinical, disconnected—an act I endured rather than enjoyed. Even with partners who were gentle and considerate, I’d felt nothing but a hollow emptiness, going through motions while remaining locked inside myself. I convinced myself that was all I could expect, that the assault had broken a fundamental part of me.

But this—Landon claiming me, using me, filling me—has awakened a part of me I thought was dead.

With Landon, there’s no pretense, no careful tiptoeing around my trauma. He sees my brokenness and matches it with his own, forging a union that is savage and beautiful.

I collapse back against the pillows, completely spent. My muscles tremble, and I’m too weak to even lift my arms. Every muscle aches with a deep, satisfying soreness.

Landon falls heavily beside me, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The mattress dips under his weight, shifting me toward him. I feel a warm trickle between my thighs as his release seeps out of me onto the sheets beneath.

I should get up. Should clean myself. Should deal with the mess we’ve made. But my limbs refuse to cooperate, feeling like they’re filled with lead instead of bone and muscle. Even keeping my eyes open requires more effort than I can muster.

“Should... clean up,” I mumble, the words slurring together.

Landon makes a low sound in his throat. The bed shifts again as he moves closer, his arm sliding beneath my neck while his other wraps around my waist. He pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his body curving protectively around mine.

His heat envelops me. His skin is slick with sweat against mine, his breath warm against my neck. One of his legs hooks through mine, effectively pinning me in place.

The last thing I should do is melt into the embrace of this unhinged man who’s marked and claimed me in ways I never thought possible.

But as consciousness begins to slip away, all I feel is warm. Safe. Protected.

How strange that in the arms of a monster, I’ve never felt more secure.

31

LANDON

Ibalance the cardboard coffee carrier in one hand and the bag of still-warm pastries in the other as I unlock my penthouse door. The smell of fresh croissants and blueberry muffins fills the hallway—Sadie’s favorite, according to my surveillance of her at the café she frequents.

“Little butterfly,” I call out, pushing the door open with my shoulder. “I’ve brought breakfast.”

I set the food on the kitchen counter and move toward the bedroom, expecting to find her still asleep where I left her. The bed is empty, sheets rumpled and stained with evidence of our night together. My initials, which are below her collarbone, must be scabbing over by now.

A small sound draws my attention—a whimper from the corner of the room.

That’s when I see her. Sadie is curled up on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s wearing my shirt, the fabric swimming on her smaller frame. Her eyes are wide and unfocused.

“Sadie?” I move toward her.

She was so responsive last night, so perfectly mine. The moment she sees me approaching, she sits up and presses against the headboard of the bed.