Page 40

I t never did.

Minutes bled into hours. Hours bled into days. Days bled into weeks. Time dissolved until all I could do was exist between bruises and moans.

They took and took and took. Piece by piece, breath by breath, they stole me. My body wasn’t mine anymore—it was their possession to do what they pleased. No safe word. No break to heal.

And what shames me the most is that I enjoyed it, for the most part. I got used to it. It became something I looked forward to. But then, even that enjoyment turned into a torture. It twisted inside me, until I couldn’t tell pain from pleasure anymore. It was too much.

Yet, somehow, still not enough.

I was losing my senses.

I was losing myself.

They kept me locked in the cage in that godforsaken cabin and only left to hunt for food… or to scare hikers for fun. I actually have no idea what they did. Usually, at least one stayed behind to watch—just in case.

Slowly, they began to be less careful. More confident. They knew they were breaking me. They knew I was too weak. Knew escape was no longer a word I believed in.

But in all of this, I have not once stopped hoping that Ghost would find his way back to me.

At first, I thought that Varekka would be the weakest link.

Just because I saw so much of Nate in him.

But no. It was Ghost, after all. The majority of the time, he took care of me.

And I hated how much I loved those little moments.

They were never proper aftercare, but they were something.

And I held on to that. It helped me survive each session knowing that he’d be there to give me that cold shower or sponge bath after.

That he’d bring me food and clean my cage of waste.

Massage sore muscles. Kiss my wounds better.

If I obeyed, if I were a good girl, maybe he would free me from this torment. Maybe he just needed to see that devotion.

So I did everything he wanted.

I gave in. I submit. Surrendered.

Until I couldn’t anymore.

And today…

Today is that day.

The air feels different. My body aches the same way it always does, but something inside me has shifted. There’s a sharpness under the exhaustion. A pulse. A determination I haven’t felt in weeks.

The door creaks open, and Ghost steps inside, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. I lift my head from the mattress, blinking up at him with what I hope are doe-eyed innocence and longing.

He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a hoodie, but no mask. He never wore it again after that night when Mark was here. When he killed him.

I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgiven.

Yet, I still get butterflies in my stomach every time I look at this monster.

“I missed you,” I murmur, stretching just enough to make my body arch, my bare skin pressing into the mattress beneath me.

Ghost exhales through his nose, a rough sound, but I see the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He wants to touch me. He always does.

“Aww, is my girl trying to earn a reward, being so sweet today?” he murmurs, but there’s no real suspicion in his voice—just that dark, possessive warmth that makes my stomach tighten.

“I just wanna be close to you.” My bottom lip quivers. “Come hold me. Only for a little while.”

His jaw tightens, those dark eyes flickering, and I see the war inside him. He knows he shouldn’t. But he’s tempted.

I press my thighs together, shifting my weight with a delicate, helpless moan. “Please, Daddy? I need you.”

That does it.

I see the moment he caves, the way his shoulders relax just a fraction before he steps into the cage, lowering himself onto the mattress beside me.

I don’t give him time to second-guess it. Once he’s within reach, I curl into him. His arms wrap around me automatically, pulling me tighter, and I let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Love you,” I whisper, nuzzling into the hard plane of his chest, inhaling the scent of leather and musk and him.

His grip tightens. “Fuck, Bunny.” His voice is rough and strained.

I tilt my head up, lips parted, eyes wide. “I mean it.”

He groans, fingers tangling in my hair, and then his mouth crashes down on mine.

The kiss is hot, hungry, all tongue and desperate, bruising pressure. I moan into him, arching my back to get closer, my hands sliding up his chest to fist in his hair. He growls, flipping me onto my back, his body heavy and warm on top of mine.

I whimper, but it’s not fear—it’s lust, crazy and obsessive. I let him feel it, let him hear it, my legs wrapping around his waist as I grind up against him.

“Touch me,” I gasp when his lips leave mine to trail down my throat. “Please, my body’s burning for you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

His hands are everywhere—squeezing my ass, massaging my thighs, kneading my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they’re tight and aching. I writhe beneath him, panting, my fingers tugging at his hoodie until he finally pulls back just enough to yank it over his head.

I take the chance to admire him—the tattoos winding over his shoulders, the hard lines of his abs, the way his muscles flex as he moves over me. He’s beautiful like this, all raw power and barely leashed control.

His mouth lowers onto my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple before he sucks hard.

I cry out, my back bowing off the mattress. “My pussy…” I whimper, “Oh, please, play with my pussy.”

His fingers dip lower, teasing between my thighs, stroking over my wetness. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls against my skin, his fingers circling my clit, torturing me. “You love this, don’t you? Love being my good girl.”

“Yes,” I whimper, my hips rocking against his hand. “Yes, Daddy.”

He chuckles, dark and pleased, before suddenly yanking me up, flipping me over so I’m straddling his chest. I barely have time to brace myself before he drags me directly over his mouth and his tongue is on me, licking a hot stripe through my slit.

I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue fucks into me, the metal of his piercing dragging deliciously against my walls. He’s good at this— too good —and I’m already trembling, my thighs shaking around his head.

“I’m—oh fuck—”

He doesn’t let up, his tongue working me mercilessly until I’m coming with a broken cry, my pussy clamping down around him as pleasure rips through me.

I collapse forward, panting, but he’s not done.

His mouth seals over my clit, and he sucks while the tip of his tongue laps in a fast, steady rhythm.

My hips buck, my toes curling, my entire body seizing as pleasure detonates inside me.

Another orgasm rips through me, bright lights flashing behind my eyelids, my throat raw from moaning, thighs shaking around his head.

I need a moment to compose myself, but he doesn’t mind, his face buried deep in my cunt as he drinks every last drop of my release, savoring it.

When I finally slide down his body, I’m still breathless, but my lips find his neck, his collarbones, the ink staining his chest. I kiss every tattoo, every scar, my hands roaming lower, over the hard muscles of his stomach.

He lets me, looking at me like I’m something precious. But beneath it, his eyes are wild, hungry, his cock straining against his jeans.

“My turn,” I giggle playfully.

I undo his belt, his zipper, my fingers trembling just enough to make it seem like eagerness, not nerves. But maybe it’s both.

I purr as his cock springs free, thick and heavy in my hand, the barbells of his ladder piercings glinting in the dim light.

I lick my lips, meeting his gaze as I take him into my mouth.

“Fuck!” His head thuds back against the mattress as I swirl my tongue around the head, teasing the metal ring before sucking hard.

His groans fill the cage, his hips jerking. “Such a good girl,” he rasps, fingers threading through my hair. “Take it all, baby.”

And I do. My mouth slides lower down his shaft as I take him deep, my throat working around him, my eyes watering.

“Shit,” he hisses, his fingers tightening in my hair.

I manage not to gag as he pushes my head farther down, holding me there until I can’t breathe.

He moans, releasing my hair, and I hate that I love it when he’s this pleased with me.

I hum, pulling back to lick along the underside, teasing each piercing with my tongue. Then I suck him down again, my hand working where my mouth can’t reach.

His hips jolt, but I free him from my lips, my palm trailing lower to cup his balls. I roll them gently before my mouth joins, sucking it gently. My fingers trace lower, lower, my tongue following the path down his taint.

He snarls, his whole body tensing. “Fuck, Bunny! Fuck—”

I smile against his skin, and taking advantage of his haze, my fingers creep toward the back pocket of his jeans.

The knife is there.

I reach for it, the metal cold against my palm as I quickly tucking it beside the mattress before returning to his cock.

“Ride me, Princess,” he demands, voice rough but edged with something almost desperate. “Daddy needs to feel that tight little cunt.”

I press one last kiss to his inner thigh before crawling back up his body, mounting his hips.

His hands grip my hips, positioning me exactly where he wants me. I rock against him, my wetness dragging along his cock as I grind my pussy, the piercings teasing my clit with every movement.

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps, his praise washing over me. “And mine. All fucking mine.”

His hands roam over my body, worshiping me, his eyes locked on where we’re connected, where I’m dripping onto him.

“I want you so badly.”

I lean down, kissing him deeply as I finally slide him inside, sinking down onto him. My moan gets swallowed by his mouth.

He fills me perfectly, his piercings rubbing deliciously with every roll of my hips as I take him deep, my walls clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he grits out. “Squeeze harder. Milk that cock, baby.” His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as he guides my movements, owning me.

But I’m the one in control now.