Chained (Caged Book 2)

by D H Sidebottom

  A soft moan left him and I shivered at the touch of his tongue on my skin. He lapped at the trickling blood, drawing his tongue up my skin to collect every drop.

  Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched indulgently as Anderson opened his mouth and dribbled the blood over my cunt. His eyes lifted to my face and I reached down to cup his beauty in my hand. “Make me come hard.”

  The low growl that escaped him made my breath hitch. He dipped down, forcing his face between my legs. Blood smeared over his chin and his mouth as he started to tongue-fuck me, the blood that still poured from the tiny incision mixing with the wetness of my arousal.

  Sensation after sensation rolled over me as Anderson’s fingers dug into my hips to hold my bucking body down. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t process thoughts as a crucifying wave of ecstasy seized every muscle in my body and forced me into the realms of rapture.

  Dragging his hand over the blood, Anderson then drew it up my stomach and over the valley of my breasts, pushing up the silk of my top and smearing me with a pathway of bright crimson.

  My nipples pebbled under his touch, the stain of redness over my pale skin becoming mesmerising as Anderson continued to paint a route over me. I couldn’t stop looking as, bit by bit, my skin disappeared under the illustration of his touch.

  His cock slid between my thighs and Anderson looked down, watching in pleasurable awe as he slid inside my cunt. Inch by inch he slowly filled me until I sheathed all of him.

  His face was stern, his lips pulled behind his teeth as he continued to watch himself slide in and out of me, the slow friction making me wrap my feet behind him and lock my ankles together.

  My back arched, inviting him deeper as he plunged in hard, the sharp pain making my muscles grip him even tighter.

  He started to fuck me with a sudden desperation, his pelvis slamming against my clit and sending shocks of pleasure into my brain. His grunts were loud and raw, the divine pleasure and the chill of violence in his eyes making me buck back into him with every thrust into me.

  He grabbed my wrists and held them over my stomach to give himself the leverage he needed to fuck me with a cruel and merciless rhythm. I locked my elbows, giving him the brace he needed to fuck me hard and fast.

  It was his hold on my wrists that stopped my body from being slammed up the table, and because he held onto me so tightly, each vicious thrust hit me full pelt instead of moving me away from him.

  Bliss blossomed in every bone of my stimulated body. Anderson’s fingers dug into the flesh below my wrists, my heels dug into his firm arse, and his cock drove me higher and higher.

  “Cum and blood, little wolf,” Anderson rasped as he looked once again at his cock disappearing inside me. “The perfect depiction of pain and pleasure.”

  I found his eyes, holding onto his gaze as I struggled to cope with the flood of pleasure. “And they’re both yours.”

  He snarled, letting go of my hands, and swiping his hand over the blood that still ran, he enclosed my throat in his fingers and applied pressure.

  The thud in my head was only exaggerated by the deep and heavy need in me to come. Adrenaline flushed my system and I came so hard that for a moment my heart stilled and my lungs froze.

  The silent cry that left me hurt my throat as Anderson’s grip tightened with his own climax.

  His forehead dropped to my stomach and he gasped with every jerk of his cock, his cum spilling into me and prolonging my own orgasm with the sudden warm rush.

  We both panted, gulping for air to settle the frenzy inside us. I watched his back heave, the solid line of his shoulders completely covering the width of my body. The herbal smell of his hair invaded my nostrils, and the feel of his breath on my skin sent me into a lull of relaxation.

  Anderson gently kissed my belly, and then chuckled. “Sorry, little guy. Didn’t mean to bounce you around so much.”

  Lifting himself off me, he pulled up his jeans and then grabbed a small box out of a nearby cupboard. Pulling my leg to one side, Anderson carefully applied a plaster to the small cut in my thigh, and then placed another soft kiss on top. “Good as new.”

  He grinned up at me and I beamed back at him.

  Maybe things were going to be okay after all. Maybe the unease I’d seen in Anderson’s eyes many times was just my imagination.

  I couldn’t help but smile when I realised the anxiety that had bubbled in my gut not an hour ago had floated away with my orgasm.

  Huh. Nicely played, Anderson.

  THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, ANDERSON WAS at a fight. Robbie was assigned with the needless task of babysitting me, and Caroline had retired for the night.

  I was bored.

  Robbie was snoring on the sofa as I sat in the chair watching reruns of Game of Thrones. The frequent images of blood on the TV screen made me smile, the memory of yesterday’s overwhelming orgasm making me bite my lip. Afterwards, Anderson had carried me upstairs and then proceeded to care for me in ways that made my heart still. He’d been so tender, his fingers digging deep into my tense muscles as he massaged my need for food away. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the orgasm he had given me had already seen to that, but his manipulation of my muscles had felt so good I’d let him carry on.

  He’d whispered words of love to me without actually saying the three little words I longed to hear. I knew he felt guilty for taking me the way he had, and I’d tried in vain to settle his worries, insisting over and over that it had been my choice.

  But he was a stubborn man, and he’d quickly silenced me by making love to me slowly and affectionately, his tenderness bringing an orgasm that hadn’t touched the formidable one I’d experienced only a couple of hours earlier. I didn’t think anything could touch that level again.

  Red sighed, echoing my boredom. “You need a run, Red?” I asked quietly, not wanting to wake Robbie.

  She shot up, her tail wagging happily with the word ‘run.’

  “Come on then.”

  She trotted behind me, following me through the kitchen and into the back garden. Trying to rid her pent up energy, she shot down the steps and disappeared into the darkness at the back of the long garden.

  Going back inside, I made a cup of tea and followed her out.

  The stars were bright, the clear night sky bringing with it a severe chill to the air. I shivered, pulling my cardigan around me to trap in some heat as I meandered down the decking stairs and onto the lawn. Red barked in the distance, probably spotting some random animal in the undergrowth and deciding it would be a fun toy.

  The steam from my tea swirled high and I took a sip. For the first time in a long while I felt settled, at ease with myself. I’d never much ‘liked’ myself. The way I had forbidden Samantha a memory and the recognition she deserved had always hung heavy in my soul, and kept me on the edge of fear.

  Now there was a calm that had settled inside me. Yet there was a niggle of worry, this time due to other factors, that refused to allow my mind any peace.

  I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what but I saw it in Anderson. I’d catch him looking at me with so much sadness that it had stolen my breath. The way he watched me, with both awe and bleakness, verified the fact that he was troubled.

  The way he spoke to my stomach with so much sorrow confused me. He spoke as though he wasn’t ever going to see our baby grow up. He’d slipped up once or twice, and I’d seen the flicker of discipline flash in his eyes before he’d changed his mood and then spoke with happiness.

  I’d tried to question Robbie earlier, but he had shaken me off. But I’d seen the knowledge in his eyes. He knew exactly what was going on and it maddened me to know they were both excluding me.

  Anderson had failed to get any information from Terry, or so he’d told me.

  I frowned to myself as I took another drink of my tea. What if Terry had told him something so bad that Anderson daren’t tell me? Had it been something Terry had told him that was causing all this trouble to his mind
?

  I knew Anderson would never tell me, especially if it was something concerning me.

  Dreading the decision that came into my mind, I swallowed my nerves and whistled low for Red’s attention. She came immediately, her obedience one of the things I loved her for.

  Locking up, Red tilted her head at the sudden anxiety that coated every one of my hitched breaths, but she backed down when I clicked my fingers towards her bed. She sat upright, regarding me suspiciously.

  “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

  Her tail wagged as I bent and stroked her head, but she watched me like a hawk as I opened the basement door and stepped into hell itself.

  IT HAD BEEN A HARD night. I ached everywhere and a couple of my broken ribs were giving me jip as I slowly walked home. I was tired, exhausted, and it reflected in the drag of my feet on the pavement.

  It was a cool night and I welcomed the chill on my skin.

  “Evening, Anderson.” Mohammed, the proprietor of my local shop smiled at me. “You look sore tonight.”

  I smiled, my cheek aching with the action. “Tough one.”

  He nodded in understanding and passed me my usual packet of cigarettes. Totalling them up with the bottle of whisky I had snatched off the shelf, he took my money and entered it into the till.

  “Word on the street, Anderson.”

  My eyes snapped up to his and I narrowed my eyes but gave him a nod to go on.

  “Someone’s been asking questions.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugged as he handed me back my change. “No name yet, but tall guy, red hair and eyes like a viper, I’ve been told. I’ve got my ear to the ground. As soon as I have it then it’s yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  I slipped him a couple of twenties and bid him goodnight, lighting a cigarette as soon as I stepped foot outside the shop. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled when I inhaled a crucial dose of nicotine, and my fists clenched with irritation. I needed to find this fucker before the fight with Ivan. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, leave Kloe exposed and under such a threat.

  Robbie shook himself off, blinking up at me when I kicked his ankles and woke him. “Lazy fucker.” I grinned as I dropped onto the sofa beside him.

  “What time is it?”

  “Just gone midnight.”

  “Shit.” He stretched, yawning, and rolling his head around his neck. “Didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

  I chuckled, understanding how tired we both were lately. Robbie had been having trouble sleeping, I knew why, but neither of us wanted to talk about it. Instead we bottled it up inside like we always did and let it ride.

  “Kloe in bed?” he asked.

  “I would imagine so; I’ve only just got in. You want a drink?”

  He nodded, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked worse for the nap, the greyness to his skin making his usual rough features appear even more menacing.

  Gritting my teeth at the pain that shot through me, I pushed myself up and went to put the kettle on.

  Red whimpered as soon as I opened the kitchen door, and scampered to my side, her cold nose burying into my hand. “What’s up, girl?”

  She seemed on edge, her ears pricked high and the fur on the back of her neck stood rigid with alarm.

  “Red?”

  Every bone in my body cracked under the pressure of dread when she scratched at the basement door. She whined, scratching harder as she turned her head to look at me and then nudged at the door.

  The handle felt hot under my touch, my imagination going wild, and as soon as I pulled the door open, Red scurried down ahead of me, her urgency making my heart race.

  My feet dragged down each step, fear pulling at each muscle and making movement slow and awkward.

  Nothing but silence greeted me. The dark depths of my own basement became terrifying and foreign, the undiscovered playing tricks on my mind and building the tension in my body.

  And finally I took the last step.

  The very pits of hell couldn’t ever exhibit the horror that greeted me. Rivers of blood couldn’t ever replicate such a gory scene. And never in my own nightmares could I imagine something so sinister.

  Kloe was on her knees, her small frame lost in the reservoir of blood that washed around her. Her face was down, her focus on her knees as she remained still and silent.

  My butterfly knife sat by her hand, her fingers uncurled as though she had only just that second dropped the offending object.

  My gaze lifted to the swinging chain. My stomach lurched and I blew out the rancid air that had curdled in my lungs. Terry’s head was all that remained, the terror portrayed in his eyes, the last thing he’d ever witnessed displayed in his petrified gaze. The rest of him was scattered in piles around the floor.

  Red whimpered again, knocking Kloe and gaining my attention.

  “Holy -fu…” The expletive evaporated from Robbie’s tongue when his foot landed on the step behind me.

  My body was frozen in shock, the numb parts of me refusing me any movement.

  “Kloe?”

  I didn’t think she’d heard me, her name coming from me in a horrified whisper.

  She turned slowly, her head spinning on her shoulders like some fucking horror movie. Her vacant eyes found me. “I made him tell me, Anderson.” The chilling tone of her voice made my throat constrict.

  My heart vaulted and air left my lungs in a rush. “Tell you what?”

  Her eyes dropped for a second before they once again found mine. “Who.” She shivered and licked her lips, the blood that coated them smearing with the wetness. “Who,” she repeated.

  I grimaced as I stepped towards her, my feet slipping in the guts that made a pathway to her.

  She looked up at me, her beautiful eyes blinking as I lifted her into my arms. “I didn’t believe him.”

  I nodded.

  “So I made him pay for lying to me.”

  Vomit was hurrying up my throat with the sweet but bitter smell of all the blood. I carried her through the house, and quickly switching on the shower, I stepped inside the cubicle, both of us fully clothed and her covered in more than fabric.

  The hot water washed over us, pummelling us with torrents of blistering heat and driving the clog that clung to her towards the drain.

  I moved my gaze away from all the shit piling up against the plughole and started to strip Kloe out of the soaked clothing, throwing each item onto the bathroom floor.

  She let me take the lead, her calm despair frightening me. Her eyes were wide but unseeing, her heartbeat steady against my hand when I washed away what was left of my father, and the rhythmic way her chest heaved had me shivering with shock.

  “What did he tell you, Kloe?” I was almost too afraid to ask but I needed to know.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Lots of things.”

  “Okay. Are you going to share?” I tried to keep my voice calm, my mind focussed on her bathing as I directed the jet of water over her head and started to wash away the fragments of bone and intestines that clung to her curls.

  She stared at the wall and sighed. Her gulp was loud as she tried to swallow her own vomit. The foam from the shampoo ran down her face and she closed her eyes. At least she was lucid enough to understand what was happening. I was scared she’d fractured the last remaining sane part of her mind and become so lost inside herself that she’d forever see the hideousness of whatever had just happened.

  “I’m so sorry, Anderson.” Robbie spoke quietly from the bathroom door, watching us warily.

  I shook my head. “This isn’t your fault.”

  Turning my attention back to Kloe, I gently wiped at her, the stain of blood proving difficult to wash away.

  “I thought he was dead. He’d always been dead,” Kloe said. “I always thought he was dead.”

  I frowned, but stayed silent, willing her to go on.

  “And all this time, all that time, so long ago, they were already planning how fate would
ruin us.” She twisted her head and stared at me. “Did you know that, Anderson? That they knew each other. That’s how my mother met him, why they fucked me and you.”

  I froze, goose bumps burrowing under my skin and making my whole body feel oversensitive. “What?”

  She chuckled and the sound was somewhat eerie, the misery reflected in the usual happy sound making my gut twist. “We were neighbours. For so long.”

  I couldn’t form words to question her. I wanted her to speak quicker, to fill in the blank parts for me, yet shock rendered me stupid.

  “We used to play together. We were best friends.”

  “I don’t understand,” I finally managed, falling back against the tiled wall to support myself.

  “It was my own mother that introduced Terry to the Dawson’s.”

  My head shook. My heart was beating so rapidly that I felt dizzy and high. Snapping myself out of the revulsion that was overwhelming me, I grabbed Kloe’s shoulders and shook her. “Who is he, Kloe? Tell me!”

  She blinked slowly and smiled. “He’s my father, Anderson. My dad has come back for me.”

  HER SILENCE TOLD ME SO much more than she had.

  She was keeping something from me but I let it ride for now.

  “He said my parents and yours were best friends way before we were born.” She shivered even though I covered her with my arms and pulled her back against me. The bedroom was dark and we huddled under the quilt together, the cocoon of my embrace and the duvet providing her with the safety net she needed. “I think they were kind of connected to a cult,” she mumbled, her brow creasing. “But I’m not sure. I couldn’t make out some of the things he’d said.”

  I grimaced, the picture of Terry’s mutilated body in my head explaining why he probably hadn’t managed to say much, but I didn’t share that thought with Kloe.

  “Janice, your mother, owed a lot in drug debts, Terry said. They’d tried to pimp you out, Anderson, but Terry said no one in their circle much cared for little boys.”

  Kloe gagged as blood heated the fury bubbling in the pit of my soul. The dirty bastard. The sick, twisted fucks!