Tamed: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 2)

by Felicity Brandon

  Fuck, she thought, suspended somewhere between solid pleasure and rippling agony as her clit was stimulated again and again. There had never been anything like this before. She’d never known ecstasy like this, a high which was so intense it was practically unspeakable. If you’d asked her before this moment, Molly was sure she’d have sworn to you it just wasn’t possible. It was an ideal, lofty notion, held up by erotic writers like herself, who penned tales of incredible orgasms and dark heroes. Yet, here she was, literally holding hands with her own dark hero, and this incredible revelation; it was possible, and in the most debauched circumstances of all.

  An intense shudder passed through her body, and her eyes flew open to acknowledge the latest wave of passion.

  “That felt incredible,” he murmured above her head.

  Panting, she lifted her face to gaze down at Connor. Not for the first time, she reminded herself that this was the man who had captured her. It was also the man who had kept her locked in a tiny cage for fuck knows how long as a penance for trying to escape him. Yet as those large green eyes blinked up at her, and she gripped his enormous erection inside her cunt, she just couldn’t think to care. All there was now was the fluid language between them. The tears had dried, and now there was only sweat, kisses and cum, each as sensual and mind-blowing as the next.

  “My turn, pet?” he asked, with a wry smile.

  Connor thrust deep inside her as he spoke, causing her pussy to spasm beautifully around his cock again, and Molly moaned in response.

  “Yes, Master,” she replied, riding the final fragments of her orgasm as she continued to grind over him.

  The last thing she remembered seeing was the smile on his face. It was warm and seemed genuine enough, and then, in a flash, he moved. Spinning them both in one smooth action, Molly found herself flat on her back again in a heartbeat, Connor’s manhood still lodged deep inside her. There was a brief complaint from her knees, but on the whole, the new position felt easier, now that he assumed the weight the position of being on top required. The chain attached to the collar at her neck jangled between them as she stared up at her captor. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this wanton before, this wild and carefree. For the first time, none of the bullshit mattered. She didn’t care about how she looked, or when the next deadline loomed, there was only Connor, and his unrelenting cock.

  “Fuck me, Master,” she told him, the words every inch a command despite their soft and breathy tone.

  Connor licked his lips as her words. “Your wish is my command, kitten.” He chuckled with a droll expression, but his cock was already moving, easing from her wetness and slamming back into her pussy.

  There was no choice but to cry out now, the depth of his possession just too demanding. In a flash, he withdrew again before thrusting forward, each movement slow and intentional as he claimed what belonged to him. That’s how she felt now, his completely, and nothing beyond that seemed to matter.

  She gulped as his erection slid away again, knowing the intensity of what would come next. But as his cock withdrew this time, she felt her hips rising to meet the next thrust, welcoming the sweet intrusion as it speared her.

  “Yes,” he panted, his voice hoarse with his own lusty fervor.

  The sound made her eyes rise to meet his again, and as their gazes locked, there was nothing but dark intensity.

  “Come for me, Master,” she demanded breathlessly.

  It was her boldest move yet, but somehow, like all of the rest of this ridiculous debauchery, the words seemed like the most natural thing to say in the world. And God knows she fucking meant them. All of this – this world of pain and pleasure – he had created it. As much as she had hated every moment of it, they both knew she’d loved parts of the objectification as well. The cages, the leashes, the fucking dog bowls, it had all made her so horny. She’d been permanently wet since he’d taken her, and this act was only a demonstration of the fact; they both wanted this. And she loved it just as much as Connor did.

  “Get your arms up over your head,” he growled, as he lowered himself to his elbows, imprisoning her in the heat of his hard body.

  Molly complied wordlessly, loving the dark fire which burned in his eyes as he glowered down at her. She recognized that fire. The glimmer of the flame was always present, no matter how depraved his desires had been, and Molly had found hope in it. Where the flame burned, there was affection and warmth, even in a romance as twisted as the one Connor had carved for them.

  The look in his eyes made her realize he had just reached the same conclusion she had come to. That whatever the fuck this was, they were both complicit now, in it together, whatever happened.

  Connor’s hands found her wrists, pinning her down into the soft bedding, and his lids fluttered closed as the tension in his body rose. Molly’s gaze flitted to his muscular forearms, and she could see the strain in them as his orgasm neared. His lips parted, and she sensed he was going to ask her the same question once again.

  “I’m yours, Master,” she told him sensually. “Fuck me. Fill me up.”

  Those dark green orbs came back into view at once at her words, his eyes widening as though he could barely believe she’d had the audacity to say them without an order. But Molly was all about audacity now, lying there as he fucked her hard into his bed.

  “Fuuuuuck,” he snarled, lowering his face so that his lips grazed over Molly’s just as the full magnitude of his climax hit him.

  She blinked up into his agonized expression as the pleasure ripped right through him. She actually saw the moment the burgeoning pleasure imploded, like a bomb which could no longer wait to detonate. Breathing in the scent of his hot minty breath as he came apart in front of her, Molly felt closer to him than any man she’d fucked before him. Connor’s cock was deep inside her, and she bucked beneath him, milking the hard length for everything he could manage.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In that long moment of pleasure, Connor’s mind was finally free. He had waited a long time for this liberation, and even when he’d fucked Molly before they went to the cabin, it hadn’t felt as cathartic as this. Gazing down at his beautiful kitten, he knew his lips had already curled into a smile. It was bizarre. Nothing about this arrangement was ideal. He had had to take her by force, and compelled her to do the things he wanted with rigorous rounds of punishment and humiliation. Fuck, it had been fun, but it had also been mentally intense and draining. Never for a moment could he let his guard down. Never could he truly relax. Molly was smart, and he knew it. If he gave her an opportunity again, she would definitely take it, and she’d run for good this time. Connor couldn’t let that happen. The thought of losing Molly made his chest tighten until it was almost painful. No, dammit, Connor wasn’t going to let this good thing slip away. And this was the first time he had felt true peace since she’d become part of his life, and even now he wasn’t really sure why their union completed him so much.

  Allowing his eyes to shut, he ground his cock back into her hot, sodden pussy. Molly moaned reflexively, and he felt her lips on his jaw, grazing over his stubbly skin with hot kisses. Oh, fuck. Connor loved being kissed there, and even after such a momentous orgasm, he knew that sensation alone could drive him back to arousal if she wasn’t careful. He hadn’t been kissed that way for many years. Not since he’d been with Lydia.

  Lydia.

  Connor’s mind flitted back to the face of his old lover, her dark yellow curls bouncing as she turned her head to glance back at him in his mind. They were half memories and half fantasies now, the truth woven into the many hot recollections of the woman.

  Lydia. Her name stuck in his throat, although he was sure he didn’t want to speak it out loud. Nonetheless, it was right there, on the tip of his tongue, as it nearly always had been since the day she’d taken her last breath.

  She’d been so beautiful, just like Molly, but he’d snuffed out her flames like an insect on his dashboard. Perhaps he had loved her in his own way. He thought he
probably had, but somehow, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough with Connor, because sick fucking psychos like him were not made for hearts and flowers. Frankly, even the cages and chains barely satisfied him anymore.

  Lydia’s final day had seemed like any other. There had been no sign that he was going to lose his shit and go too far. No warning omen’s in the sky when she’d pulled back the curtains that morning. Connor remembered the look on her face as she fell to her knees before him, the way she always did, that small flush crawling up her wonderful cheek bones as she acknowledged her submission to him.

  “How can I serve you, Master?” she had asked him.

  The same words every day, no matter what the routine ahead was due to bring.

  He recalled how he had stretched out in bed, watching her small limbs as she fell to the carpet, her long lashes batting as her gaze lowered to her knees. Lydia had been sublime. Her submission a precious gift which he had taken and torn to small pieces.

  “Come to me,” he’d ordered. “Polish your Master’s cock before he fucks you.”

  Lydia’s eyes had risen at the sound of the command, her pupils dilating as she crawled the short distance to where Connor waited on the bed. She’d taken his eager dick in her mouth, permitting it down the back of her hot throat almost at once. Like Molly, she’d always known what drove him wild, and like Molly, he had trained her to be an excellent submissive. Better than Molly really; Lydia would obey without question. The comparison jarred in his head as he stared down at Molly’s blue eyes. She seemed peaceful enough as her lids fell closed, her face rolling toward his forearm. How he wished he could maintain the same peace of mind, but it was hopeless. His moment of serenity had been brief; the memory of Lydia splintering it in a heartbeat.

  He lowered his lips to Molly’s forehead, planting a long, sensual kiss there, but his mind was already back to Lydia’s last day, replaying the events he wanted to permanently erase. She’d brought him right to the brink within minutes with that deftly experienced tongue, and when he knew he could take no more, Connor had drawn her away by the leash at her neck. He dragged her panting to the corner of the room they’d shared, a place where he had conveniently anchored a number of stations designed for keeping Lydia in place. Securing her short leash to the one at the floor, he contorted her hot little body over the end of a bench, raising her delectable backside high into the air at the perfect height for his cock.

  Connor never asked for her permission. He never had done with Lydia. Interestingly, it was something he seemed to need from Molly before he could possess her, but it had never been an issue back then. With Lydia’s neck secure, and her wrists chained to the side of the bench, he had plundered her at will, slamming into her sweet pussy as hard as he liked, and as often as he wanted. The memory of her cries filled up the air around him somehow, although when he turned his head there was nothing, only the contented sound of Molly’s breathing, and the endless drumming of his heart. Not that day though; that day Lydia’s voice had been loud. Louder than he wanted to hear.

  “Silence,” he’d ordered her in a near snarl, and yet for whatever reason, little Lydia seemed unable to obey. She’d screamed out with each new thrust of his hips, and the intensity of the sound only increased when he withdrew from her sex and repositioned his hungry cock over her dark opening.

  “Master,” she’d called out. “No!”

  He’d slapped her arse for that. He remembered the way the imprint of his hand had remained on her creamy skin, even after she’d taken her last breath. “You don’t get to command me, slut,” he’d hissed in response, his choice of words making her whimper beneath him.

  “I’m still sore from yesterday,” she’d tried to implore him, but Connor had ignored her, lubing up her bottom even as she complained.

  “Good,” he had replied. “This is not about your pleasure, little one. This is about bringing your Master pleasure. Do you get it?”

  He hadn’t waited for her response, spearing her tight passage with a cruel intensity which made her cry out again. The cry morphed into low, guttural sobs, the new sound grating against him even more than her original screams. Tears hadn’t really done anything for Connor back then. Nobody’s ever had until he took Molly, and every time he had tried to reach his climax that morning, the noise of Lydia’s sobs held him back, robbing him of his pleasure.

  “Fucking bitch,” he’d growled as he pulled out of her backside, riled by his growing frustration. “Stop crying!”

  She had probably tried to comply, and looking back, he realized Lydia could barely catch her breath for emotion by that point. But in the moment, Connor hadn’t cared. He’d been thinking only about himself; his cock, his pleasure. That was all he ever thought about then. When she failed to compose herself to his satisfaction, he’d decided to try and silence her himself. He remembered climbing on the bench behind her, his right arm curling up her body toward her throat. He could recall the feeling of her soft skin against his hand, and the way her windpipe felt beneath his digits as they wrapped around her delicate throat.

  “Master.”

  That word, and the way she had said it. He lowered his forehead gently against Molly’s as he considered the way Lydia had whimpered it that morning. She had trusted him, and not because he had beaten the submission out of her, but because she’d really loved him, and what had Connor done in return? He’d wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed the life out of her. He would like to have said that he hadn’t known what he was doing. That he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing, but that would be a crock of shit. Connor had known exactly what he was doing that morning, but he’d done it regardless. He’d done it because he wanted her to shut up; he wanted to focus on his own orgasm, but that was bullshit, too. He could have just gagged her and be done with it. Lydia wouldn’t have minded that. Lydia had loved gags.

  Like Molly.

  His head rose at the sound of the small voice in his mind and the unhelpful contrasts it drew, but the weight of the memory was too heavy now, and Connor knew he had to relive the whole fucked up thing in his head before he’d be able to concentrate on the living pet dozing quietly beneath him.

  So, why had he squeezed so hard that morning all those years ago? Why had he extinguished the life from his wildfire? With a deep sigh the answer came to him – as it always did. He had done it because he could. Because Lydia had given him the power of life and death, and Connor just couldn’t fucking help himself. Reveling in the power, he had taken the one thing which didn’t belong to him, Lydia’s life.

  His chest burned as the realization washed over him again. That was the sort of sick fuck he was, the kind who stole the breath from a beautiful woman for fun, just because he wanted to. Just because he could. Connor inhaled deeply as he stared down at the peaceful face of his new pet. She was not Lydia, and she was not here by choice, yet the connection between them just now had been amazing. It was better than anything he’d felt since Lydia. Maybe, it was even better than what he’d found with Lydia, but it was built on a foundation of shit. Whatever Molly thought she knew about her captor, she would never guess the awful truth.

  Connor was a killer. He had form. Abduction and coercion were far from the darkest crimes he’d committed to advance his own pleasure. And little Molly had no clue. She had no idea who she’d just fucked, or that by giving herself to him in any way, she was slowly selling her soul to a devil.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Molly’s body was heavy with pleasure and exhaustion as her eyes flickered open again to see his face right there with her. Apparently, she was back in Connor’s good books again, and her lips twitched at the thought.

  “Is something amusing, pet?” he quipped as he collapsed onto the bed next to her.

  Molly’s mouth parted, tension creeping back into her limbs. She hoped to hell she hadn’t just pissed him off so soon after the thaw. The sound of his laughter drew her attention back to the man beside her.

  “Don’t look s
o scared,” he told her with a chuckle. “It’s actually good to see you smile again.”

  She shifted, rolling to her side to appraise him. “Really?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  His hard features softened even further at her question. “Yes, really. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I rarely say things I don’t mean.”

  Molly’s eyelids flickered in response, and she felt the smile which captured her face. “Yes, Master, I noticed.”

  Connor smiled, rolling his body in to face her own. “I’m glad you did, pet. I’m happy you’ve been paying attention.”

  His right arm shifted, pulling her into him. She didn’t resist, allowing him to press her against his hard body. Connor smelled great, the scent of his spicy cologne washing over her as her face snuggled against his soft chest hair. There was just the right amount covering the expanse of his muscular chest, and somehow being pushed into it made her feel like she was home.

  Home.

  The thought of Pennsylvania flitted through her mind. How long had it been since she’d been there? How long since she’d seen her friends and family? Being with Connor had done the strangest thing to time, and it seemed she had lost track of it altogether.

  “This is nice,” he murmured as his left arm snaked to her waist. He pressed her sex against his groin, a small groan escaping his lips at the contact.

  Molly tilted her head to look up at his face. Connor’s eyes were dark and brooding, but as she caught his eye, his gaze became lighter. “Yes, Master,” she replied in a breathy tone. “This is nice.”

  His brow arched at the emphasis on her final word, and his right hand landed a smack against her tender backside before she could process it. “You may be forgiven for fleeing, little minx, but don’t push your luck.”