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nine

The following morning, I dream of being submerged beneath the ocean. It took me so long to actually fall asleep that I don’t want to wake up, but the heavy weight of the waves crashing over me stirs my subconscious into a state of alertness. If only my eyes would open. I’m so tired.

Spine surging and swelling against the mattress with pleasure, I crawl my fingers down my torso as a memory from last night mixes with the briny deep of the sea.

The smell of a man , his firm figure, and the heat from his sweat-sliced body return to me.

Cum spraying across my back, building a base desire within my core.

Eyes as light as the moon focused on my face like a fiend about to rip me into shreds before his mouth devoured my neck, lips urgent, teeth gnawing at the flesh like a beast.

“Yes!” The peak of ecstasy wrings my insides tight, my back bowing so far that only my head is on the pillow. My ass is suspended in the air, held up by a pair of strong hands digging into my hips.

Silky strands of hair tickle my inner thighs, and I latch on to hold them there while I erupt with a swell of pleasure. My legs shake around the figure seizing me in a firm grip, mouth latched onto my clit like it’s sucking me dry.

“Wha-what are you doing here?!” I scream as soon as I’m able and attempt to roll over, but it’s impossible when every muscle becomes liquid with bliss.

The judge from last night drags his blue eyes over my mound to my breasts, then to my face when he releases my pussy from his lips with a pop.

“Eating my slave.” He spreads his thumb and forefinger, then smooths them across his wicked mouth, that sly grin never departing his expression as he gathers up my wetness and licks himself clean.

“Damn! Best tasting pussy award goes to… What’s your name? ”

I scramble back on my elbows with a gasp. “You-you can’t be… in here !” My eyes dart to Gwen’s side, but it’s still made up from the day before.

“You can call me Ryan, if you choose. ‘God’ works while you’re coming on my face, though.”

When I try to back up more, he follows, hovering above me with his huge body taking up every inch of space on my twin bed.

And he’s naked. All the muscle he owns looks like it’s been carved out of stone.

A few tattoos line his shoulders and chest, then trail over to his back, making swirling patterns of different characters like a Theta , which has been crossed through several times like the artist was angry with it.

He boxes me in with sinewy biceps on either side of my head and leans forward, while I back myself into the pillow, trying to gain some room. The granite length between his legs slots at the apex of mine, and I instinctively squeeze my thighs together.

My stomach swoops as his handsome face considers me, contorting into a serious expression. “Did I just eat your virgin cunt?”

A gasp escapes my throat as I stammer for what to say. It hits me then—at the Massacre, and now here—this is only the second time in my life someone other than me has made me come.

And both times…it was him.

His gaze bounces back and forth from one of my eyes to the other as he grows a look of intense curiosity.

“Fuck…pink cheeks. You have no idea how turned on I am right now. I’m so going to enjoy this.

” With a wave of his hips, he slips through my soaked pussy lips as I clamp my legs tighter around his waist.

The mere thought of this stranger slamming inside, the agony it could cause, is enough to make me beg him for mercy. I slap my hands against his chest and plead, “Please, no. I… Please .”

Finally, he removes those piercing eyes from my face and looks down at where we’re practically joined.

He grips the base of his cock and runs the bulbous head over my clit in circles.

Familiar heat simmers deep in my belly as he swirls it through my wetness, his thighs situating under mine like he’s settling in for a long stay.

As he watches what he’s doing, he dips the tip of his dick lower, toward my entrance, until my body stiffens, and I swiftly inhale to brace myself. The second I do, he glances back up at me, monitoring my reaction. Seemingly satisfied, he does it again.

“Stop. Please,” I beg.

“Stop what?”

“D-don’t put it in.”

“That’s not how this month works, little sister. You lost. I won. You’re mine and have to do everything I say. It’s that simple.”

My fingers grip his shoulders, afraid of what may happen if I relax too much. “It’s not that simple, and I didn’t lose.”

A grin crosses his mouth as he continues that maddening pattern, causing me to moan when he hits my clit and straighten my back when he sticks himself at my entrance.

“You certainly didn’t. You won me, you lucky girl.

You got this huge cock to pleasure you for a month.

Can’t wait to make you bleed all over it. ”

I feel myself going over the edge, yet at the same time, I want to yell for him to get away. “No. Please.”

“‘Please’ makes it sound like you want it, pink cheeks. Is that it? You want to be forced? ’Cause I can do that.

I’d love to bust through your virgin cunt right now.

Listen to you scream as I ravish you. I won’t stop.

I’ll keep going while you dig those nails into my skin, carving me up. Marking me as much as I do you.”

With a formidable shove of his hips, the thick head of his cock breaches my entrance and stops, electricity shooting through his body and straight into my pussy. “Oh god.”

“Yes, dear? You want me to go deeper? I certainly can.”

Some wild battle in my mind ensues. One where saying yes or saying no makes my desires muddle until I have no idea how to answer him.

Relief hits me when he drops his head into the crook of my neck and sucks in a long breath, continuing to press that thickness in slowly, stopping when he bangs on my barrier.

Pain causes me to seize up as it replaces the pleasure, but he releases a frustrated grunt against my skin, hesitates, and pulls back.

“Please…” I whisper, not even knowing what I’m begging for at this point. For more of that sharp pain? For more of the pleasure? The wires cross in my neurons until I think I’m experiencing both at the same time.

He does the motions again. And again. Building me up as his pubic bone hits my clit in a rhythm that makes me desperate for more. Part of me wants to scream, just do it! Just fuck me! But I remain silent.

“That’s it, baby. I love watching you come. You’re the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever seen, you know that? Especially when those pink cheeks turn bright red and those amber-colored flames light up your eyes. Watching these huge tits bounce as I play with your pussy. Fuck …gonna come.”

At the mention of him losing it, his voice growing coarser, I escalate to detonation.

My breasts arch toward the ceiling with a wail that matches his rough growl.

Warm cum sprays over my pussy, covering it completely, and Ryan sits up on his calves to make sure all of me is coated.

Then, as I suck in heaping breaths, he watches my face and gathers up his spend, shoving a finger filled with it all the way inside me.

“Wait!” I scream and grasp his forearm, sitting up with terror overtaking my body.

He’s so close to me now, he pecks a kiss on my forehead and continues pumping his cum-covered finger. “You are a virgin… Damn. Super tight. I can’t shove my dick in here.”

Slapping his arms away, I scramble off the bed and search for a towel to wipe myself with. I’m still wearing my T-shirt, but my panties and shorts lay in the pile of clothes on the floor.

Ryan slumps his fully naked figure against my headboard and gets comfortable on the mattress. A crumbling cathedral inked on his upper right arm shifts as he flexes, its spires collapsing with every ripple in the muscle.

“This is going to be more fun than I expected. I get to pop ripe Penelope Freidenberg’s cherry whenever I want. Make you fall in love with me in one go.”

My narrowed eyes snap to his. “ That will never happen. And how do you know my name?” Hurriedly, I grab some tissues and try to clean myself, inside and out, then throw on some sweatpants.

He tosses his arms behind his head while his now flaccid cock lays heavy against his thigh.

That thing is not going to fit inside me.

One of his knees bends as he tries to balance on the tiny bed and looks at me.

He’s like one of those Greek statues that should be propped up in a museum, not laying casually in my space.

“Penelope Lynn Freidenberg, age twenty, birthday June tenth. Share it with your brother, Oswald Gerald Freidenberg. Blood type is a rare B negative, and your favorite color is purple, like your bedroom back home at the manor. You also enjoy s’mores and the movie Clueless more than Breakin’ , but you watch because that’s what Oz likes.

Sophomore at Northview University in Criminal Justice with a three point three grade point average.

You dance ballroom competitively with your partner, Mitch McCloud, a junior in Beta Kappa Eta .

We’ll deal with him later. What I really want to know”—he sits up suddenly, placing his elbows on his thighs and stabbing me with a sharp gaze—“is why the fuck your social media was filled with that walking STD Nico Griffin instead of me?”

My brain must short circuit as I stand agog at his words, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Did this fucker do all this research last night?

With a glance around my room, I see if anything is askew.

Everything on my side is. Between the stacks of books and my laundry, there’s no way to know what he’s searched through.

From my training, I steady my breathing to show no fear, but it’s difficult when I think I’m trapped in a tiny room with an actual psychopath.

As if he knows what I’m doing, he smiles broadly and stands, slipping on his boxer briefs with a little hop. Waving his hand over my mess, he says, “By the way, I claimed something in here while you were dozing. It’ll be like a fun scavenger hunt to find out what it is. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“What do you mean, claimed ?”

His head tilts to the side, as if I should understand exactly what he means, and that makes my throat almost close up. “I came on it.”

He’s stunned me. Verbally, physically…in every way. I have no idea what to make of what he’s saying, but my belly churns with anxiety.

In a swift motion, he gathers his T-shirt laying on the ground and tosses it over my head as I lift my arms to prevent an attack. Instead of that working, it only allows it to drop into place, his masculine scent filling the air around me as the fabric saturated with him coats my nose.

“Smile!”

As soon as my head is through the opening, I shake it with confusion, but he grabs me in a tight embrace, places his lips against my temple, and holds up his phone to snap a selfie of us.

The picture is one of me, in his NU hockey shirt, with sex hair , looking flushed and stunned, as if his sudden display of affection was cute and wanted , while his piercing blue eyes hold the camera with a gleeful look.

My hands shove him away, but he barely moves and continues tapping something on his phone screen.

“You need to leave. You’re not even allowed to be here, in the house! I don’t care if you think you won me.”

He mock gasps and pulls me in for a hug, pressing his lips to the top of my head. His voice vibrates his chest as he holds me. “I didn’t just win you. I own you. And I’ll be staking my claim whenever I choose for the entire month of September.”

Claiming…as in, coming in . Oh my god.

Volleying my shoulders, I get away from him and take a step back. He smirks, slips on his jeans, and heads to the door. “I was just leaving anyway.” One of his fingers lifts as it wags at my face. “You need to get to class, missy. Don’t want to be late. But I will be seeing you very soon.”

The moment he leaves, I lock the door and place my desk chair under the doorknob. My fingers thread through my hair as I pace around, worried about what he could have soiled and what just happened.

I’m also curious about where Gwen ended up.

After last night, kneeing him in the stomach and running away, I got home late. She wasn’t in bed. Stumbling over my books for next semester (already purchased in case I can read ahead), I spot her purse still hanging on her desk chair. Unmoved…

Maybe Amelia knows something. I wonder how she made out last night. Did she make it back okay?

I only have about an hour before my first class, so I hurry and grab my phone, checking to see if Gwen left me a text. Instead, I have a billion Pixtagram notifications. The screen shakes as I open them, dread crashing over me in a torrid wave.

When I switch to my profile, the latest pictures are of me and Ryan together from last night, but posed in such a way to look as if I was awake and willing.

Ryan holding me with just the back of my hair visible, looking at me as if we’re talking. Him snuggled up beside me while I slept with the caption: She’s so beautiful when she’s dreaming #mypic

I click through the tags to his profile and my heart stops. He’s a Cardell …of Cardell Enterprises. And not just one, but the Ryan Cardell, heir to the entire empire. He’s got hundreds of thousands of thirsty followers, and his feed has suddenly been filled with…

Me.

Me as a young girl learning to ride a tricycle ( She was adorable, right? Hope our girls look like this # goals ).

Me winning my last ballroom competition, though Mitch has slyly been cut out. ( My girl dances like she loves…with her full heart. Congrats, P.I.C.! ).

And the worst…him replacing any pictures I had put up of Nico and I with his own face Photoshopped over it.

I run over to the trash can in the corner and dry heave. This cannot be happening. What is going on? Is he this crazy? This insane?

It’s okay. It’s okay , I repeat to myself. Because I know one thing…

My brothers will kill him.