The first spurt of his release inside her brought a slight return to reality when she realized there was nothing blocking him from emptying inside her body. She was too immersed in pleasure to think deeply of it, but she wasn’t too frightened either. He might have taken her birth control pills away, but there had only been two active ones left, along with a week of placebos, so it was virtually impossible for her to get pregnant right then.
She took a bit of dark glee in foiling his plan even as she contracted around him, moaning at the foreign sensation of a man orgasming inside her. She hadn’t expected it to feel so raw and primal or to increase the pleasure of her own release.
After he had finished coming, and the last convulsion of pleasure had faded to nothing more than a minute throb deep inside her, he collapsed atop of her, his weight pressing her into the bed, but in a strangely reassuring and comforting way. She shouldn’t be curled up against him like this, and she definitely shouldn’t derive pleasure from having him hold her after he had just fucked her like that. Reminding herself that he had choked her, and that he had deliberately misinterpreted the reason she had been in his room did very little penetrate the haze of bliss surrounding her.
Eventually, he eased onto his side, taking her with him though his cock slipped from her in the process. Declan pressed a tender kiss to her shoulder before biting the same spot more firmly. “Get some sleep. Now that you’re in my bed, I intend to have you on a frequent basis, so you’re going to need your rest.”
She blinked as sleep tried to overtake her. “This is crazy. Complete madness. You can’t keep me here.”
He lifted his arms slightly, holding her loosely enough that she could wiggle away if she chose. “If you don’t want to sleep with me, you don’t have to. You have a room.”
She sighed with exasperation. “I didn’t mean that. I meant just in general, you can’t hold me here, and you can’t do whatever you want with my body. You biting me and choking me—that’s not normal.”
“Who gives a fuck about normal?” He posed the question as he opened one eye, which appeared glassy from deep satiation. “Fuck normal. You belong with me now, and I’m going to claim you in every way possible and leave my mark on you so deep that you’ll feel my teeth marks every time your blood pounds through your veins.”
She shook her head, though her heart wasn’t in the protest. His words were terrible, but they served to stir her arousal once more. “If you’re not going to let me go, and you’re going to say fuck it to normal, can you at least not choke me while you’re pounding into me?”
He let out a dark laugh. “I’m not saying I’ll honor that request, but if you absolutely hated the experience, I would. However, I know for certain that you didn’t hate it. You were getting off on me controlling your breathing as much as I was aroused by it, so there is absolutely no chance that I will ever stop that—except when you’re pregnant.”
She shook her head, too exhausted to keep fighting with him right then. “You really are crazy, aren’t you, Mulgrew?”
He lifted his head to look down at her, his expression inscrutable. “Did you have any doubts about that?”
Slowly, she shook her head again. She didn’t know just how unbalanced he was, but he was clearly on the edge and seemed determined to drag her over it with him.
“Get some sleep. As I said, I’ve been waiting for years for this moment, and I don’t intend to wait any longer. The next time you wake up, it will be to my head buried between your legs as I suck on your clitoris before biting you. Or maybe I’ll do it from behind, and then I can bite the generous chunk of your ass. There are all kinds of possibilities, and you’ll experience each one of them at some point.”
His words frightened her, but they also inspired a heavy surge of desire inside her, which she knew was wrong. She shouldn’t feel this push/pull for her crazy captor, but had a difficult time pretending like it hadn’t been amazing, or that she wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. The pleasure he could give her seemed more important than the fear he inspired, though she knew that could change in a moment.
Chapter Four
Kat woke to stinging pain in her ass. Coming out of the ethers of a deep sleep, at first she was certain he had bitten her as promised. A second later, the pain flared again and faded away, and she yelped with shock as several strands of leather collided across her ass at the same time. She turned her head to look up at him, appalled to see him holding a flogger in his hand. “What are you doing? I didn’t consent to that.”
“I wanted to see red stripes across your ass before I soothe them with my tongue.”
She tried to turn over and realized she was cuffed to the bed on her stomach with a bustle underneath her pelvis to lift her butt into the air. “I don’t care what you want. I want this to stop. Untie me now.”
In answer, he slapped her ass again with the flogger, eliciting pain, and she squirmed to get away, realizing when her clit touched the bustle that she was already wet. The slight friction from rubbing against the padded pillow made her nipples bead and her pussy cream, and she was ashamed by how turned on she suddenly was.
It was made worse a moment later when he brought the flogger across her other cheek, and that same flare of pleasure and pain shot through her again. She moaned though she didn’t want to, and he gave a low laugh before his palm swept down on her butt in place of the flogger. “I knew you’d like that too. You need someone to guide you and care about you, and I need someone—you, specifically—to control and take care of. We’re a perfect match.”
She shook her head, wanting to deny his words. “What makes you think I need someone to take care of me? I’m an adult, and you clearly think I’m old enough to have children, so you can’t have it both ways, Mulgrew. I’m either old enough to be breeding stock or too young for you to do this shit.”
“You can be both, sweet little Kat.” He punctuated his words with the sound of squeezing a bottle. A second later, a generous dollop of something warm and slick splashed across her buttocks. His hands molded to her butt and began rubbing the oil into the stinging flesh of her cheeks.
“You had shit-all for parents, and while Clay and Claire have been good to you, they haven’t provided the total guidance and control that you need. You’ve been ignored most of your life, and you need to be the center of someone’s attention, someone who can guide you to discover what really makes you happy.”
She let out a harsh snort of laughter that turned into a gasp when his oiled thumb slipped between her butt cheeks to press against her puckered hole. “And you think you’re that person? If you’re done with amateur psychology, you can untie me now.”
He laughed again. “Amateur or not, you know it’s true, whether you admit it at this point in time. Until you do, I’m just going to lead you along and let you know that I’ll take care of you.”
“Take care of me by beating me and tying me to the bed to fuck me?” She rolled her eyes, even though he probably couldn’t see it. “Wow, you’re a saint. Your wife must have been one lucky girl.”
His hands stiffened and clenched around her cheeks, and his thumb pushed in harder than he had started, as though he was punishing her. “It wasn’t like this with Hilary,” he finally said softly.
She looked over her shoulder at him with a frown. “You mean you didn’t beat your first wife with a flogger?”
“I’m hardly beating you, Kat. I’m simply decorating your beautiful flesh with signs of my possession.” His expression altered slightly, taking on a note of disquiet. “But no, I didn’t feel this possessive need to control everything that Hilary did, and the kinkiest thing we ever did was a little light spanking with my hand.”
She fell silent and looked away from him, not certain how to process his words or what they might mean. He hadn’t felt this consuming dark desire with Hillary, so what did that say? Did that mean he simply hadn’t accepted the side of himself that liked to inflict pain at that point, or was it only her who brought it
out in him? Or perhaps it was a reaction to his grief and loss, channeled into her. Once he got it all out of his system, would he lose interest and let her go?
That should be the outcome she hoped for, and her heart rate accelerated a bit at the thought, but she couldn’t pretend it was all excitement at the idea of this ending soon. No, there was definitely a heavy dash of disappointment at the idea of walking away from this strange and compelling man, who wanted her badly enough to take her.
She stiffened when something cold pressed against her anus, turning to look again. “What’s that? What are you doing?”
“Just preparing you, baby. I want to put my cock in your ass really soon, so you’ll appreciate a little stretching first.”
Frantically, she shook her head. “I don’t want anything in my ass.”
“Your little hole is telling me differently, sweetie. It’s grabbing on and sucking in like it’s been waiting for this your whole life.” As he spoke, he guided the smooth cylinder past the stubborn ring of muscle that tried to resist, and then his words were prophetic. Instead of trying to resist or push it out, her back passage relaxed and drew in the toy, clamping tightly around it as though wanting to keep it forever.
It was a disconcerting sensation, made even more so by how good it felt in an illicit way. She had never expected ass play to be something she enjoyed, but she couldn’t deny this was amazing. Even more so when he thrust to his fingers in her pussy, making her clench even harder around the toy and so tight that her back bowed off the bed. “Fuck, Declan.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Kat.”
She moaned when his fingers withdrew from her slick channel, which tried to suck him back in. A moment later, he shifted her hips on the bustle, angling her higher and lodging the plug even deeper into her anus. She cried out with shock and pleasure when his cock glided into her, taking her in one smooth stroke before he pistoned in and out of her.
The angle of his dick rubbing against her g-spot and her clitoris, combined with the insane pressure and sense of fullness between her ass and pussy sent her spiraling into an orgasm. Her channel clamped tightly around his thick cock, but he withstood her body’s invitation to join her in release as he continued thrusting in and out of her.
She moaned as the orgasm crested and faded, making her collapse to the bed as much she could with his hands still holding her hips, and their bodies joined. She couldn’t believe it when the spark of desire returned with a few more thrusts, kindling the heat anew. She arched back against him, moving in time with him as his pace grew more frantic, and his thrusts less measured. She was almost close to climax once more when he grunted and stiffened, his warm release spilling into her insides.
She whimpered a protest, and suddenly his hands were on her neck again, and his semi-hard cock remained lodged in her, though he wasn’t thrusting. As he squeezed her throat gently, just hinting at denying her air, it sent her flying over the edge into another orgasm, and then she collapsed to the bed and pressed her face into a pillow.
She didn’t want to see him or look at him, and she certainly didn’t want to acknowledge the wanton way she had behaved and responded to his depraved acts. What kind of person became aroused or orgasmed when someone else choked them? It sounded debased, and it made her feel disgusted with herself. Her lips wobbled, and tears welled in her eyes that she allowed to soak into the pillow.
A moment later, she was freed from the cuffs, and he had removed the toy from her buttocks and washed her carefully between the legs with a warm, damp cloth. Declan pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, but she refused to look at him. “It’s okay. Subspace can be intense, and coming down afterward sometimes take some time.”
She turned her head to look at him, aware of the tears still leaking slowly from her eyes. “So this is your idea of aftercare?” Seeing his eyes widen, she shrugged. “You’re not the only one who has read BDSM books, Declan.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t try to tell me this is some D/s relationship. We have no contract or agreement or even safe words. That’s not safe, sane, and consensual.”
He shrugged. “No, it’s not D/s, but that’s not what we have, or what we’re going for. What we have is complete and utter obsession, and pure aching need for each other.”
She shook her head, denying his words. “No, you have a captive that you abducted and blamed all the horrible things that happened to you in the past on. I get to be your whipping girl and your source of revenge. We don’t have anything besides the reality of that. I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice, and you wouldn’t want me if I wasn’t associated with Joe Evans and offered you a twisted outlet for your hate, anger, and grief.”
His lips tightened, and he got up from the bed without looking at her again. “You should make something to eat. It’s been hours since you had anything.” Without another word, and without stopping to grab clothes, he stormed from the room. She watched him go with a hollow pang in her chest, having turned onto her back when he stormed to the door. The urge to cry returned, but this time, she couldn’t explain exactly what emotions motivated it.
Before, it had been repulsion with herself and fear of her own dark longings, but now it was something more, something complex and dark, and all twisted up with the man who’d put her here. She didn’t know what it meant, or why she felt that way, and she wasn’t eager to probe the emotions to determine a solution. It was an answer she feared more than she feared her own response to Declan and the depravities to which he had introduced her.
***
She had made a bite to eat, forcing herself not to make something extra for him with a sharp reminder of why she was there. It wasn’t to be a polite houseguest. No, she was clearly there to be his whipping girl, his sex toy, and supposedly, the mother of his children. The idea of bringing a child into such a messed up relationship was a horrifying thought.
She snorted aloud as she made her way back to her room after eating, padding straight to the bathroom to wash off the residual passion and lube from earlier. Relationship was hardly a word she could use to describe this. She had known him all of twenty-four hours, not counting the week she had spent going to the trial and staring at him surreptitiously. That was hardly any time to form any sort of relationship. He had clearly been fixated on her for far longer, but she doubted he had any real emotions for her beyond rage and obsession.
Why did that thought make her depressed? She shook her head at her own stupidity as she stepped out of the shower, having washed briskly in hot water before wrapping herself in the towel and combing her wet hair in the mirror. The black waves were more like giant frizz balls, but she didn’t care. The only person to admire her appearance here was him, and he hardly seemed worth the effort.
As she leaned closer to put away the comb and reach for a new toothbrush, she hissed a breath through her teeth when she saw the faint purple bruises forming on her neck, all in the shape of his fingers. It was visual proof of just how degenerate she had become, and how she had embraced his degradation willingly.
For all that, and knowing what they represented, she couldn’t suppress the dark thrill of pleasure at the sight of his fingerprints marring her flesh, and she couldn’t help remembering how blissful it was to be completely under his control and at his mercy—assuming he had mercy.
She brushed her teeth without looking at herself again in the mirror, trying to remind herself just how disgusting those thoughts were. Normal people didn’t like to be choked, and they didn’t get off on it. They probably didn’t sleep with their captors either, especially within a few hours.
After spitting and rinsing, she washed her brush and put it back in the holder. Accidentally, she met her own gaze in the mirror as she started to turn away, and she was transfixed once more by the sight of his fingers having bruised her flesh.
Normal people weren’t into this, and normal people didn’t spend two years Googling a man they barely knew, trying to learn his whereabouts. Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirr
or and tried to forget the memory that had just popped into her head.
She had started her investigation into Declan Mulgrew within hours of their exchange of words at the courthouse. At the time, she had thought she was acting from empathy and a sense of obligation, based on what her father had done.
There hadn’t been a lot to discover about him that had seemed overly personal, but she had pored over the business articles about him, along with the social pages. Before her death, Hilary had evidently been big on philanthropy, and he was usually photographed on her arm at different functions, where they were donating or more actively involved.
Gradually, as the months had passed, her attention had moved from reading the same articles over and over again to simply staring at his picture. It wasn’t until she had moved into a shared dorm room with her roommate, and privacy had become a premium, that she had been able to break her nightly habit of logging in to view her favorite pictures of Declan, along with tri-weekly searches for his name to see if anything had changed.
After his wife and daughter’s deaths, he had virtually disappeared, becoming a recluse, and though she hadn’t known he had sold his company, she now knew where he had been the last few years. Here on this island, where he now had her trapped.
She crawled in to bed, not wanting to examine too closely why she had formed such a strange attachment to him. She had honestly forgotten about her infatuation with him, or else had pushed it to the very back of her mind because she had been embarrassed by it.
And what else could it have been besides an infatuation? Checking on him occasionally would have been a sign of concern and an acknowledgment of what her father had done to destroy his life.
They hadn’t openly communicated in any fashion, it wouldn’t have been strange for her to occasionally look him up on Facebook or Google to see if there had been any mention of him. Several times per week had crossed a fuzzy line for which she had no name, but she had a feeling if she probed too deeply, she would find an uncomfortable answer of her own.
Sweet: A Dark Love Story Page 6