Page 75 of Cursed

“Do you know how many women would want to be where you are?” I ask. “Claimed by a Blackwood. Protected. Provided for.”

Sadie’s laugh is bitter. “Protected? You’re who I need protection from.”

“No.” I grip her chin. “I’m the only person who truly sees you. The darkness you try to hide. The desires you’re ashamed of. I’ve watched you touch yourself to violent fantasies. I’ve seen the books you read.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilating despite her anger. This physical reaction to me—this is what she can’t fake or deny.

“That doesn’t give you the right to?—”

“It gives me everything,” I interrupt. “You are only fighting this because you fear the true Sadie being brought out into the light. The sooner you accept that’s exactly what’s going to happen, the easier this will be.”

I pull Sadie roughly from her chair, ignoring her gasp of protest. Her body is warm against me as I sit down in her place, dragging her onto my lap.

“What are you doing?” she demands, struggling as I position her with her back to my chest.

I don’t answer with words. My hands find her hips, lifting my shirt, confirming what I already knew—she’s not wearing anything underneath.

“Landon,” she hisses, squirming as I unfasten my pants. “I’m not doing this.”

I don’t hear her safe word, so I continue. “You don’t make the decisions,” I whisper into her ear, holding her firmly in place. “I do.”

With one swift movement, I lower her onto me, forcing my way inside her. She’s wet as fuck.

She inhales sharply. “Get off me?—”

“No.” I grip her hips harder, keeping her firmly impaled on me. “Now, you’re going to sit here, just like this, and you’re going to eat your breakfast.”

I reach for the mangled muffin, reconstructing it as best I can, and place it in her hands.

“I’m not hungry,” she whispers. As she says it, her stomach rumbles again.

“You’re being a naughty little liar.” I shift, causing her to gasp as I press deeper. “Eat the muffin. Drink your coffee.”

I need to reestablish my dominance in this new setting, and if she’s not giving me that stupid fucking safe word, then I’m going to continue to teach her that resistance is futile.

“Don’t move,” I command when she tries to lift herself off me. “Stay perfectly still.”

I push the coffee closer to her.

“Please, Landon,” she begs.

“Eat,” I repeat. “And don’t you dare move.”

Her fingers tremble as she raises the muffin to her lips. I feel a rush of satisfaction as she takes the first reluctant bite, chewing while I remain buried inside her.

“Good girl,” I murmur, pressing my lips against her neck. “See how easy this can be when you just accept what you are?”

“You’re a psychopath,” Sadie hisses, her voice trembling as she forces down another bite of muffin. “I hate you.”

Her words cut deep. I’ve been called worse—monster, sadist, predator—but never felt the sting. Never felt the blade slip between my ribs. It’s the weight in her tone that makes these words strike. That makes them wound.

My fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to bruise. “You hate me?” I growl in a question. “Your mouth says one thing, but your body doesn’t fucking hate me, Sadie.”

I shift my hips, feeling how her tight little cunt gets wetter as a soft whimper escapes her lips. “Feel that? You’re soaking wet now that my dick is where it belongs—inside you.” I slide one hand around to press against her lower abdomen, and she makes a beautiful fucking moaning sound.

“You can lie to yourself,” I continue, “but you can’t lie to me. I know every inch of you. I’ve studied you. I’ve watched you. There’s nothing about you I don’t own.”

But her words—I hate you—keep echoing in my mind, creating an unfamiliar hollow sensation deep within. I’ve been hated before. I’ve been feared, loathed, and despised. It never mattered. If anything, those reactions were often exactly what I wanted.