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SIXTEEN

Holding Me Down - Picturesque

Everything comes roaring back at once. It’s like I’ve woken up in a washing machine, with the whole world spinning, my body contorted, and I can’t move. I’m stuck, and I feel like I’m circling, circling, circling .

I groan, clamping my eyes closed. Slowly, as I feel less like a crusty sock spinning circles in the wash, I remember what happened.

Shit, I’m about to die. And…something’s playing with my left ankle?

I jerk my eyes open. Logan is fiddling with my leg, tying it to the bed. It’s then that I realize I can see his face. His whole face. He has a cut jawline covered in stubble and commanding eyes, all framed by a backwards ballcap.

“Fuck,” I kick my leg. Only none of my limbs move, and my words come out muffled, like there’s something in my mouth.

“Convenient of you to leave these for me.” Logan finishes with my ankle and motions to the restraints. Heat rushes across my face as I realize he’s used my tie-downs. My sexy tie-downs.

I try to say something, but there’s definitely a gag in my mouth. The spit-soaked cloth presses all through my mouth, and I realize it’s a long sock. I want to gag. I yank my arms. Cool metal bites into my wrists, and I look to see that he has my arms cuffed far enough apart to the headboard that I can’t touch my hands together.

“Hmmm.” Logan leans over me. “Not so dangerous now, are we?”

I try to headbutt him, but he jerks back and laughs.

A mix of emotions runs through me. This is bad. Really fucking bad. I’m helpless. And that feeling makes panic surge through me.

Ronan Carter is never helpless. I always have a plan.

A loud voice in my right ear makes me jump. ‘He’s hot.’

I jerk my head to look at the voice. Buffalo is lying on his side, staring at me.

‘Like, so hot.’

Immediately, my gaze darts to Logan to see if he heard. He hasn’t turned.

I want to tell Buffalo to shut the fuck up, but when I work my mouth, the fabric moves farther back, and I gag. I can’t get it to move, and the more I move my mouth, the farther back it gets. I gag more, trying to move it.

“Don’t puke.” Logan has turned back to me, looking mad. “Don’t you dare puke.”

I try to suck in a breath to get the gagging under control, but my reflex for textures has always been strong. I’ve gagged on pussy before, and I like pussy.

“For fuck’s sake.” I feel Logan’s hot hands on the side of my face as I gag. “If you scream, I’ll tell the cops I saw you kill Summerman. Got it?”

Tears fill my eyes, and a rush of saliva hits my mouth.

“Jesus.”

Suddenly, the gag is gone.

I gag, sucking in air and trying to lean over in case I puke. But as soon as I can tell there’s nothing in my mouth, the urge to hurl goes down.

“If you make any noise, I’ll call the cops.” Logan grabs my chin, yanking it to look at him. His fingers dig my cheeks into my teeth. His nostrils are flared, and his blue eyes are pissed . “Got it?”

‘Why is it that they’re hotter when they’re mad? ’ Buffalo’s voice has gone croony.

“Shut up.” The words come out slurred before I can stop them. Logan’s eyes widen for a second before his fist crashes down into my face.

I groan, the burst of pain only rattling my brain further.

This is a dream, right? You can still feel pain in dreams?

“Anything else to say?” Logan’s voice is soft and mocking in my ear.

I just test my restraints. The cuffs are tightened enough that there’s no way I can slip out of them.

“What were you trying to do, hmmm, Ronan?” Suddenly, one of Logan’s hot hands traces down my chest. My bare chest.

“Were you going to frame me for Summerman? Is that what you were doing?”

His fingers barely brush my skin. Goosebumps prickle over my arms.

“Thought you could take your competition out? Or were you just trying to make me miserable showing up and looking like that?”

His one hand is getting dangerously close to the waistband of my boxers. The other hand is in his own clothes, stroking himself.

“Get off me.” Panic rushes through me. I can’t move. I can’t move, and I’m trapped.

“I think you were.” Logan grabs something from the floor, and when he comes back up, he has my knife.

I suck in a breath and thrash. I need to get the fuck away. To kill this fucker. I’m never helpless. I’m a fucking cop. I’m always in control.

“Shhhh.” Logan gets up on the bed and swings his leg over my hips, sitting on me and crushing me into the bed.

“Fuck off.” I spit at him, sucking in a deep breath to call for help when his heavy hand clamps over my mouth. The same hand that was just in his pants.

“You’ve done a few stupid things, but that might be your stupidest. Don’t worry, I’ll only hurt you a little. For now.”

I lock gazes with him, and his pupils widen. Logan traces the knife down my chest. “What message should I leave for the people who find your body?”

His hand is pressed up to my nose, and I have to suck in air past his fingers.

“Well, on second thought, they won’t find you.” He looks off to the side like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve left too much DNA. It’ll just be between us, hmmm? I’ll find you a nice little place to rot. Maybe take a page out of your book?”

Logan’s weight is immovable. I can barely move my arms, and he’s taken away my voice. I strain and struggle, but I’m helpless. There’s nothing I can do.

My entire body washes in dread. It’s happening again. Something bad is happening, and I can’t stop it.

This time, I do vomit. I turn, and Logan moves his hand just in time for me to puke onto the mattress. My entire body heaves, trying to get the wave of memories out. Get them out, out. We aren’t helpless. We aren’t.

“Jesus.” Logan braces like he’s going to hit me again, then he jumps off me. “Fuck!” He pulls his hair, yanking it out of his head like he’s in distress. “Why are you doing this to me?” He snatches my meds off the nightstand.

I shudder as I try to come down from it. My whole body is hot.

“Take this.” Logan shakes a pill out and shoves it in my mouth.

I blink.

“Fucking take it.” Logan clamps my mouth closed with his meaty hand.

I’m still heaving for breath. I can’t move my arms. I can’t move my body. I can’t protect myself.

“For the love of god. Swallow,” Logan demands.

The bitter pill sits on my tongue, and I try to swallow. It’s like swallowing chalk, but it goes down.

“You fucking dick.” Logan’s back on top of me, throwing a blanket on the puke. Then the knife is back at my chest. “I’m not gonna kill you yet. You’ve done too much to get off that easy.”

There’s screaming in the room. It’s a panicked voice, and I realize it’s Buffalo. ‘The hottie is going to kill you! Get away!’

Suddenly, there’s a bite of pain in my skin, radiating through my chest in a burst. It takes my breath away, and I jerk my gaze to my chest. The knife is in my chest.

The horrifying reality that I’m going to die washes over me. Oddly, it’s followed by a wash of peace. I can’t do anything about it now. I’m dead, and there’s no controlling it.

It’s not that I fear death itself. I figured I wouldn’t live long. But in my mind, I was going out in a blaze of glory. Giving the middle finger to the cops and dying as a hero.

The ripping, burning pain rushes through me, centering me again. And when I look down, I realize Logan isn’t stabbing me. He’s carving me.

And with that realization, my fight comes back.

“Relax,” Logan growls, frowning in concentration. “You sit worse than my bitch-ass clients.”

“You’re cutting me!” I feel a hot drip of blood drip down my chest, sliding into my armpit.

Logan just grunts, the knife cutting into my skin like liquid fire. The more I move, the worse it hurts.

‘Ask for a kiss before you die.’ Buffalo’s voice is a mix of panic and excitement, making things worse.

I heave for breath, focusing on the pain. The pain brings clarity. If all I focus on is the pain, it’ll be okay. I can manage that.

When Logan gets off me, I look down, trying to look at what he cut. It’s a word, and I struggle to read it backwards.

“Dead.” Logan stares at me, telling me what he carved into me, and for a second, his look is haunted. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

I heave for breath, focusing on the burning. The burning that’s keeping me grounded. I know it’s not likely that I’ll live through the next few minutes. But if I can’t control anything else, I’ll go out while running my mouth. “And you will be as soon as I get away, twink.”

Slowly, Logan smirks. When he looks at me again, the haunted look is gone. The asshole is back. His gaze goes from chill to pissed. He sneers, “Somehow, I don’t think I’m the only fag in this room right now.”

Suddenly, Logan uses the knife to slice through my boxers. He rips the pieces away, leaving me naked. He’s looking at my dick, which is soft.

I feel laid bare and desperate to distract him from anything that has to do with my dick. “You’re not my competition,” I snarl. “I didn’t know you existed before Summerman.”

Logan just smirks, grabbing my dick.

“You’re the one copying me .”

My jabs don’t stop him. His big, strong hand grips my shaft, jerking it slowly. He licks his lips, watching me, his gaze cruel.

Logan’s hand is on my dick, and I can’t stop it. I run my mouth, trying to bring back the tortured version of him I saw a bit ago. He may have been cutting me, but at least he wasn’t looking like he was going to eat me. I sputter, “You were trying to copy me. You’re so obsessed with me; it’s pitiful.”

Logan traces his free hand down my thigh, making goosebumps erupt on my skin. It’s so soft and attentive, and his strokes are just enough to remind my body that he’s there. That there’s nothing I can do about it.

Against my will, my body starts to wake up. I slam my eyes shut and focus on my chest. On the blood that’s drying there. The sticky blood. The–

Logan jerks me hard, and I groan, snapping my eyes back up to meet his. He winks at me. “You’re hard already.”

I knew that. I just tried to ignore it. “You’re jacking me off! Of course I am.” I jerk on my arms again, only to get stopped by the metal again.

Logan just laughs. “It’ll be pretty gay when a man makes you come.”

“I will not–”

Logan leans down, his hot mouth so close to my dick I can feel his breath. I freeze. Is he going to put my dick in his mouth? A wild mix of emotions fills me.

Slowly, Logan lowers his head so my dick is on his cheek. “Feel that?” He glances at me, his gaze hooded.

I feel it. His cheek is rough and stubbly. His hand continues to pull sensations out of me, and pleasure is starting to curl up inside me. I close my eyes again, but he’s still there. All over. His hand and his stubble, all over my sensitive dick, the pleasure and prickle warring for sensation.

“Feel me on you? That’s a man getting you off, Ronan. A fag.”

Suddenly, he spits on my dick. Then, he switches his hands, leaving one squeezing at the base while the other jerks me off, his hand repeatedly rounding over the sensitive part of my dick. Against my will, my abs contract, seeking sensation.

There’s a laugh, but I don’t open my eyes. I won’t submit to this. This is my body doing what it’s meant to do, nothing more.

But it feels like more. Every nerve ending is alive, and my skin feels hot. I feel more sensitive than I’ve ever been before. Every squeeze of fingers against my dick is infusing pleasure into me. The heat of his hand charges like an electrical pulse. It’s powerful and potent, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“That’s a good little fag. Can’t help yourself, can you, slut?”

I snap my eyes open, but that’s a mistake ‘cause Logan is grinning at me like he won. His teeth are straight and white, and his smile is mean.

“Feel good to force yourself on someone else?” I snarl.

Logan arches an eyebrow and lets go of my dick. It falls against my stomach, hard and throbbing. “You look pretty into it to me.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?” I struggle again, riled up. My dick just wants to come, but I want to do anything but.

“Hmmm. You can be in denial all you want, but your dick wants me.” Logan grabs me up again, this time picking up the pace and stroking me in a brutal tempo.

Pleasure wraps me up, and I feel my balls drawing up.

“That’s a good boy. Grit your teeth for your master.”

Immediately, I loosen my jaw. I focus on anything but the sensations. Anything but, or I’ll explode all over his hand. But he plays me. Over and over, never letting me fully escape the sensation. It winds me up to a place of overstimulation. It feels so good it hurts. All the blood has gone to my dick. Everything is centered around it.

So it comes as a shock when Logan hits it with an open-handed strike.

I groan, trying to double over. But just as fast as the pain hits, pleasure follows right behind it. My entire body locks up, and I slam my eyes shut.

“Open your eyes.”

“Make me,” I grit out, “fucker.”

“I’ll cut your dick off.”

I snap my gaze to his. Logan looks focused, jerking me firmly. I feel the overwhelming curl of pleasure coming, and I can’t stop it. Instinctually, my body rises to meet his thrusts, and then I’m coming. I explode all over his hand and my abs, shooting out pulse after pulse of cum. Pleasure fills my body, and my abs spasm, rocked with the force. The orgasm is powerful. So much more powerful than anything I’ve had.

Logan strokes me through it. When I start to come down, I close my eyes, unable to process what just happened.

“Good boy,” Logan says softly, then his hand is gone from my dick.

I’m left laying on the bed, with blood drying on my chest and sticky cum all over my abs. After the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had—given by someone who wants to kill me.