Page 57 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Scarlett

I barely sleep that night. Monster fucks me thoroughly before bed and holds me close all night, while I gaze at the wall and the clock on his bedside stand, stuck in a pit of turmoil, self-loathing, and fear.

My plan might backfire, or it might work perfectly, in which case I’ll still have to deal with the fallout.

It’s only when I kiss his neck that I recognize the magnitude of my actions.

I’m about to initiate sex. It’s partially about taking back control, and it's partially because I know this is the last time I’ll sleep next to him or with him.

He took my innocence, and he’s always had to coerce me into having sex with him.

Just once, I want to make the choice. I want to know what it’s like to be on top.

Monster stirs when I pull up my shirt, bunching it around my waist, and start rubbing my bare pussy against his cock.

Then, his eyes snap open. In a flash, his grip locks onto my waist with bruising force, and he flips me onto my back before I can process what’s happening.

My breath jams in my throat as his hand clamps around my neck .

A muted squeak escapes me, strangled by the pressure of his hold. My hands fly to his wrist, clutching and clawing, but they’re useless against his strength. My pulse explodes, hammering so wildly I hear it in my ears, and terror crashes through me.

Monster’s crystal grey eyes glare down at me, fogged with something unreadable—something frighteningly volatile. For one agonizing moment, he looks like he might kill me.

Then the fog lifts. Monster releases me abruptly, and sharply shifts back.

“ Fuck ,” he breathes, eyes widening. Horror at his own actions flits across his expression. I rub at my sore neck, discombobulated, confused, and afraid. “Jesus, Scarlett—” he cuts off, shaking his head. He reaches for me, but I scoot away, still trapped in the claws of fear.

I think I might’ve triggered the assassin in him. Climbing on top of him while he slept probably wasn’t the smartest move. Even though he seems to be back to himself now, I’m still afraid.

“Scarlett,” he repeats. “Flower—I’m sorry.

” Slowly, he closes a hand around my arm, and uses it to pull me toward him.

“When I wake up startled, my response is violent. Byproduct of my life. I’m sorry, Flower.

I’m not going to hurt you.” He pulls me back onto his lap and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” he whispers.

“I swear I won’t hurt you. Not again. I promise.

” He kisses my head, twice. After a moment, he asks, “What were you doing?”

I try to calm my trembling limbs and find my voice. I’m still terrified of him, even though he’s stayed true to his word and hasn’t hurt me. “ I—” my voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “I wanted to wake you up with… you know.”

He pulls back, surprise flickering over his features. “You were on top of me because you wanted to fuck?”

I don’t like that crude term, so I shake my head. “No. I was on top of you because I wanted…” I bite my lip. My next words surprise both of us in equal measure. “I wanted you to make love to me.”

What is wrong with me? The captivity is getting to my head.

Monster’s flickers of kindness and care are starting to influence me.

Or it could be that after all the rough fucks, I want to experience something sweet at least once—because I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to have sex again.

Even the idea of trusting another man enough to have him inside me is vaguely nauseating.

I certainly don’t trust Monster, but he’s already proved he won’t let that stop him.

Just one time, I want to know what sex could be like if it’s sweet.

Monster blinks slowly, then adjusts me over his hips and lays back down. He plants his big, tattooed palms on my thighs. “Go ahead,” he invites softly. “Proceed.”

Gathering my courage, I pick up one of his hands, turning it over in my own to look at the tattoos. “What do these mean?” I ask him, tracing the swirling lines of ink. There are countless symbols intertwined with elaborate lines and shading. All of them are black ink against fair skin.

I run my fingers over an intricate dagger with a drop of blood dripping from the tip, which melts into a puddle that leads to a skull.

“They’re stories,” Monster replies. “My stories. Snapshots from my life. That one was from my first hit.”

“It’s beautiful.” I lean down to kiss it. My pussy rubs over Monster’s hardening cock with the gesture, and we lock eyes .

He’s had me several times, even just in the few days we’ve been sleeping together.

Never have I felt this vulnerable or this scared, because right now, I’m choosing this.

I’m starting this. It feels like a concession that I shouldn’t make, but I can’t help myself.

Just once, I need to know what it’s like when the sex is soft, sweet, and kind.

I need to know what it feels like to be cared for instead of rutted on and controlled.

“Get my pussy nice and wet for me,” Monster says. “Rub her over my cock.”

My core clenches at the way he says my pussy.

It shouldn’t be sexy, but God, him claiming that part of my anatomy is hot.

I start swiping my pussy back and forward over his ever-hardening cock, grinding my clit over it.

It only takes a few passes for me to get wet.

Monster reaches up and squeezes my small breasts in his big palms, rubbing his thumb over my nipples, which sends tingles of arousal straight to my core.

I reach down to position his cock at my entrance, and slowly start sinking down on him.

It’s a tight fit, and his girth stretches my inner muscles, but it feels alarmingly good.

So good that I let out a quiet moan, digging my fingernails into Monster’s chest.

He sits up abruptly, startling me, and plants his hands on my hips.

Slowly, he guides my movements, biceps flexing as he lifts me up his length and then pulls me back down, thrusting his hips upward to hit a spot inside me that makes my eyelids flutter.

It feels so good, I’m already halfway to an orgasm.

I wind my arms around his neck and lean my forehead against his.

I give away all my inhibitions, and just let myself have this moment.

Tonight, my plan goes into motion, but right now, I want to pretend—only for a little while. Pretend that I’m here with him because I want to be, pretend that his care for me isn’t slowly suffocating me. Pretend that he isn’t killing the parts of me I spent my life protecting .

That I’m not about to kill them just to be free of him.

He stares hard at my lips, and his thrusts become harsher, quicker. With a grunt, he lowers his head to my nipple and sucks it into his mouth. My back arches as my orgasm hovers closer, and I wind my fingers through his silky, soft hair.

“I want you to come for me, Flower,” Monster breathes, pulling back. He kisses my neck and bites it. Slips his fingers between our bodies and finds my clit. “Come hard. Show me what a good girl you can be.”

“ Fuck ,” I whimper. My thighs are burning from exertion, and the old stab wound twinges with the motions, but the pleasure supersedes any pain.

My pussy starts to flutter around him, clamping down hard, and my orgasm sweeps me into a tide of pleasure.

Monster follows closely behind me, letting out a tortured moan as he spills.

His gaze locks with mine, and something vulnerable shines in his eyes. A deep, warped affection, I think. Whatever his feelings are for me, they’re real—even though they’re twisted.

“Flower,” he breathes. “I… I love you.”

An icy chill chases away the heat blooming in my veins. All of the feel-good hormones clouding my mind dissipate, replaced by terror. Monster stares at me with such openness, such vulnerability, such honesty it makes my lips part with shock.

No. He can’t say that to me. He can’t feel that for me. Tonight, I might have to kill him . The thought was scary enough when I thought the most he felt for me was a fucked-up care, but love…

He doesn’t love me. Maybe he thinks he does, perhaps he’s convinced himself he feels that way, but I know he doesn’t.

You don’t hold someone you love captive.

You don’t hurt them. You don’t torture them.

You don’t make them bear the brunt of your mood swings and grief.

You don’t do to them what this Monster has done to me— you just don’t .

He must see the disbelief on my face, because his hold on me tightens, as if he feels me slipping away.

“It’s true,” he says, voice filled with sincerity.

“I don’t expect you to say it back or feel it now, maybe not ever, but you deserve to know.

I fucking love you, Flower.” He kisses my cheek.

“You’re the only light left in my life. If things go wrong today and I die…

well, you deserve to know. I’m so sorry for what I did to you.

I will never, ever hurt you again—and I’ll keep telling you that, every day, until you completely believe me. I promise.”

“I… I need to shower,” I say quietly. I need to get away from him before I break.

Monster’s lips thin a little, but he nods.

I take a long, long time in the shower. When I’m done, I double-check under the sink to make sure that the pouch is still in its place. It is, and part of me almost wishes it wasn’t.

Killing a monster who’s hurt me is one thing…

But killing someone who loves me would turn me into my father.