Page 18

Margot

I’m sprinting down the hallway, taking random turns. By some miracle, I find the stairs and fly up them, moving faster than I knew I could. By the time I reach the master bedroom, I’m out of breath.

Huh. I made it to the bedroom. Guess I paid more attention during the tour than I thought.

Fuck . I’m in the bedroom. And Matty will be here any second.

I know I can’t outrun him, but I had to get out of there. If I stayed a second longer, I would’ve begged him to follow through on his promise. To bend me over the table and fuck me on it.

My stomach tightens.

He kidnapped me! I cannot be having these feelings towards him. Who the hell lusts after their kidnapper? A crazy person! Oh, maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe he’s hot as hell and sexy as sin.

The door slams open .

Matty crosses the room in a blur. Before I can react, I’m pinned against the wall. His body cages me in, hands firm and unyielding. His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring, eyes burning with something dark. No teasing, no smirks. Just pure, unfiltered rage.

“Why did you run?” His voice lowers to a dangerous level.

I look away. “You were scaring me.” Lie.

“Bullshit.” His grip tightens. “You were trembling with need. I could feel your heat.”

“I don’t want you.” I whisper. Another lie .

He doesn’t buy it. “Look me in the eyes and say that.” His fingers pinch my chin and tilt my head until our eyes lock. He leans in so closely, his breath teases my lips.

I swallow hard.

“Who the hell would want their captor?” I deflect.

“Who the hell would want their captive?” His eyes darken.

I gulp.

“We’re both fucked up in this situation. That doesn’t change the facts. I want you. You want me. Stop denying it.” His voice drops lower.

I try to deny it, but the words don’t come.

“Just say the words, and we’ll be explosive. I already know you’ll be the best I’ve ever had,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping from mine to my lips, then back up. “And I’d make it just as good for you.”

No. My head is spinning. He’s wrong.

His voice is pure gravel when he growls, “I can smell your arousal.”

I shake my head, denying it.

“So, if I dip my hand in those lacy panties, they won’t be soaked?”

Damn him. I look away. “No. ”

It’s a lie. A terrible, obvious, pathetic lie. He knows it. I know he knows it. He knows I know he knows it. But it’s all I have. The only defense I can cling to. My only sense of sanity in this nightmare.

Not a nightmare. A dream. Your fantasy. What you’ve always wanted. A man this crazy about you.

No. I don’t want him. I can’t.

Maybe if I tell myself a few more times, I’ll believe it.

“Fine.” His hand slowly, sensually slides down my body.

His fingers tease my waistband before crawling inside.

I could tell him to stop. I should. But the words don’t come.

His fingers find my soaked slit, and he hisses a breath. I clench my thighs, as he strokes through my wetness. A moan escapes.

His fingers tease my clit in slow, deliberate circles. Pleasure sparks up my spine. Then he stops, and pulls his hand away.

Denial rips through me. I tilt my hips forward, trying to chase his fingers, but his other hand pins me to the wall.

I whimper. His eyes burn into me. Dark. Starving. He’s not just turned on. He’s possessed. Obsessed.

“Tell me you want me.” He demands.

I know if I do, if I give him even an inch, he’ll make me feel things I’ve never felt before. He’ll ruin me. And yet, I shake my head.

I can’t form the words to deny him. But I can’t give in. He’s my captor. He’s involved in something dark. He’s a murderer. A monster. I should be terrified. But you aren’t. I can’t sleep with him. But you can. It’d be so easy to give in.

“I can feel how much you want me.” His rough voice reveals his own arousal.

I shake my head again.

“You’re soaking my fingers, spitfire.” He contradicts me.

I look away, my defenses cracking .

“I can feel what I do to you. Feel what you do to me. Feel the pull you have over me.” He thrust against me, groaning. Once. Twice. Three times. Heat floods my core. He grips my face with his hand not occupied in my panties, forcing my gaze back to his.

“Fuck, sweetheart. We’d be so good together.” His voice is sin incarnate.

I shut my eyes.

No. No. No.

He exhales sharply. “Fine. If you won’t admit it now, so be it.” His tone shifts to something dangerous and smug.

“But know this. When you want me. When you need me, I won’t take you until you beg for it.”

My stomach flips.

“Until you need me so badly you debase yourself for it.”

He nips my jaw.

“Then I’ll punish you for denying me. Only then will I take you.”

His ruthless claim on me snaps me back into reality.

“That will never happen.” I seethe the words, my hands clenching into fists. “I will never bow to you. I will never beg. I am not yours.”

His smirk infuriates me.

“Soon enough, you’ll see.”

He pulls his hand from my panties. Lifts his fingers to his mouth. And sucks them clean. Slowly. Loudly. Filthily. His tongue swirls around them. His lips enclose them.

I can’t breathe.

He pulls his fingers out with a loud pop and paints my lips with them.

“Mine.” He growls.

Something inside me snaps .

I spit in his face.

Instant regret.

It lands on his cheek. His eyes widen. A deadly silence passes over us. Slowly, he wipes it away, never breaking eye contact.

I can feel his palpable anger in the air.

“That’ll add to your punishment.”

Then he turns and storms out.

I exhale shakily.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

***

Once I realize he’s not coming back, I take a shower.

The warm water does nothing to relieve the ache between my thighs. The ache he put there. It takes everything in me not to relieve it, but I can’t risk him hearing. He can’t know how wrecked he left me.

He’s already felt your wetness. Pretty sure he knows.

I scrub my skin harder than necessary, as if I can erase what just happened. Erase him.

It doesn’t work.

After cleaning my panties and bra, I hang them up to dry and wrap myself in a towel before raiding his closet again. I pull on another pair of his boxer briefs, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and his sweats. Layer after layer. I cover myself from head to toe, as if it’ll make a difference.

But I know the truth. No amount of clothing could stop him.

Once I crawl into bed, I eye his obnoxious amount of throw pillows. Fuck it. I build a wall between us. A thick, sturdy, clear divide.

I can’t wake up under him again. I can’t let myself crawl to his side. I need distance.

But as I drift into sleep, one thought claws at me, relentlessly and undeniably.

I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist him much longer.