I think it goes on forever, his weird grunts mixed with my screams the only sounds in the otherwise silent room before he finally groans harshly above me, crushing me under him and his hot breath fans my cheeks once again.
The bile in my throat rises, making me want to vomit, and I barely hold it back.
He rolls off me and slaps me on the back, and I get up, everything hurting so much I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk, and I try to put my pants back on.
Only to discover something sticky.
Shaking my head, I cover my mouth and run to the bathroom, ignoring the pain traveling all over me and barf into the toilet, revulsion rushing through my system.
While I’m being sick in here, wondering what they have done to me, I hear the man’s laughter and how he speaks with someone on the phone. “Yeah, John. You were right. This place is the shit. Just tried one of the products. I already feel I’ll be a regular in this place.” At the sound of that, I get sick again while fear sinks into me at the idea of him coming back for more.
His footsteps come closer and then his shadow is cast above me. “I don’t want to see you sick. It does not make me hard.” He tilts my head back while I wince. “Learn to control it in my presence.” He slaps me hard, my cheek burning from the contact, and he walks to the sink, washing his hands. “You are really lucky you are so pretty, boy, or I’d beat the shit out of you for ruining my night.”
Lucky? More like cursed for life.
He forcefully washes my mouth with soap as there is no toothpaste and hurts me again and again this whole night, despite my cries for help.
I shout for someone to rescue me, to stop this bad man from doing this to me, and hope and hope.
I scream till my voice grows hoarse and I can barely open my mouth.
I scream as long as I’m able to resist and fight, even if it only brings more pain.
But no one comes to save me, and the evil man remains, his laughter following my every move as he praises me for my beauty.
And in this moment, I understand the man of the church was wrong.
Evil people like Parker, Madam, and this man will never be able to see the light.
* * *
It’s early morning when the man starts to put on clothes, checking himself in the mirror as he adjusts his shirt while I sit on the bed in my torn clothes, staring into the distance, willing myself not to feel a thing—otherwise, I might fall apart.
I think I can still hear his breathing in my ears; it’s a sound that doesn’t escape me even with him not touching me.
“I would have given you some pocket money, but all the resistance at the end bored me. Next time, you should do better.” And then he knocks on the door, and it opens, the guard stepping aside when the man steps into the hallway, throwing over his shoulder, “I’ll see you next Friday, Artem.” With that, I’m finally left alone with the door open, as I had begged for over and over again during the night.
The guard clears his throat, snapping my attention to him, and I look at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
Is he ashamed?
Why would he be now?
There is no point in being ashamed after you turn your back on a plea for help.
They are all as bad as the man who hurt me. “Time to go to your room, Artem,” he says, and I get up, pausing for a second when agony slashes through me and it comes from every part of me, so I don’t know where to focus on.
But I don’t want to show him my pain either, not after what he ignored, so I walk slowly to the door and go through it only to stop again, but this time because I see Caspian and Betty emerging from their rooms, the same hollow expression I saw in the mirror looking back at me.
With the difference that Betty’s dress is smeared in blood.
Without thinking, I rush to her, whispering, because my voice is broken. “Betty.” She jumps from me as if afraid I might touch her while clasping her hands together. “I won’t,” I tell her and see tears falling before she hugs me close, crying into my chest, and even though after last night the idea of anyone touching me is almost unbearable, I allow her to do that.
She is younger than me by two years; how could they have done this to us?
Above her head, I see Caspian standing still, clenching and unclenching his hand before our eyes meet and he tells me in a hushed voice filled with fury, “I will hurt them back, Artem.” I shake my head at him as Betty starts to cry harder, and I murmur to her to go with me back downstairs while the guard watches over us.
Once everything calms down, we need to discuss with him how to escape from here, because I won’t survive another Friday like this.
We have to find a way to protect ourselves and the other kids, because no one here cares about us. Even our own families, not to mention Madam, will only use more of the kids if the money will come.
That man had three calls last night, and all of them agreed to allow her to handle their dealings, whatever that meant, and we can’t let it happen.
My friend is angry now, but we have to focus on ourselves, not them, because fighting them is impossible.
All of us probably crying for help last night proved it.
Caspian made a promise that night to himself though.
Unfortunately for everyone it involved, most of us became collateral damage of it.
And it was a sin I’ll never forgive him for.
He took something I never gave him the right to take away.
My freedom.
Callista
Arson stands still for a fraction of a second, not responding to my touch, so I do something he did to me last night.
Shyly, I flick my tongue over his lower lip, biting it and enjoying its fullness between my teeth before placing a soft kiss on his lips and pushing my tongue inside his mouth.
That’s when he snaps out of his shock, his fingers threading through my hair as he angles my head back, deepening the kiss, transforming it to passionate and raw with our tongues dueling for dominance while his other hand presses me flush against him, my curves molding to his muscles.
“You should have run in the opposite direction,” he whispers once I gulp for breath. My lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, but he gives us no reprieve, locking our mouths together while he blindly moves us somewhere, not giving up an inch of contact between us. The electricity prickling my skin from the pleasure slowly builds inside me.
Only his touch is capable of such things.
“You shouldn’t accept me,” he says again, stepping forward, and my back hits the wall, a moan of pain and pleasure slipping past my lips, but he catches it with his kiss. His hands grip the collar of my robe before he tears it in two, the rip echoing in the otherwise silent space. “I’m the beast in this story, darling.” I hear a belt buckle unclasping and the lowering of his zipper. “Angels shouldn’t grant the devil heaven. He might get used to it.” I groan in protest when he steps back, his heat leaving me in an instant, and my eyes snap open to see him remove his shirt, throwing it on the floor and showing me his rigid muscles that my hands itch to touch. Before I can stop myself, I lean in and place a soft kiss on one of the deep scars on his collarbone; the slashed red skin is still puckered even though he probably got this wound a long time ago.
My lips trail up to his neck and chin, my tongue sweeping up his taste and wanting to know more of him before reaching his mouth again. When I reply, our lips move against each other. “I can be your beauty instead.” I can feel his heart thump in his chest as I put my hand above it, smiling at the even beat of it though I know he feels anything but calm. “The beauty who accepts the beast, no matter his faults.”
He palms my head, tilting it back so our gazes clash, and rests his forehead on mine, standing still with me for what seems like forever. “Stupid, stupid captive. You should have never fallen for your captor.”
A single tear escapes me, trailing down the bridge of my nose and falling on his hand, making his eyes darken a little, but it’s hard for me to d
etect the emotion.
“I know.” And the finality of my statement hits us hard, the energy changing between us in an instant, and then his mouth is back on me again. He presses me to the wall, his hot breath filling my ear while his cock digs into me.
Despite still being a little sore, my core clenches in anticipation of his hard length filling me to the brink, turning the world upside down, because nothing is present in this moment but him. “You are about to get fucked hard, darling.” Excitement rushes through me at the prospect of his words, my nails grazing his back and earning me a growl from him. “But first I want a taste.” That’s all the warning I get before he slowly goes down. His mouth trails over my collarbone to my breasts and nipples, his tongue peeking out to lick around the pointed buds, sucking on them harshly, driving me insane with need, and the contact zips to my clit, the wetness between my thighs growing with each suckle of his lips.
My hands lace in his blue locks, pulling him closer, still holding him tight in my embrace and rolling forward a little to rub against him. His fingers slide over my ass cheeks before he digs them in painfully and dips lower, his hot breath going over my stomach and belly button, as he slowly gets on his knees. One of my legs is hoisted over his shoulder, and I arch my back to follow the actions of his mouth, uncaring about the position or how I could fall at any moment.
Arson will take care of me, and shouldn’t this knowledge be enough to accept this life?
I cry out, the sound bouncing off the walls and goose bumps popping up on my skin when his tongue enters my folds, snatching away all the depressing thoughts and leaving only feelings.
His thumb presses over my clit, flicking it back and forth as he stiffens his tongue, stabbing into my core as deep as he can while all I can do is moan and tangle my hands in his hair harder, grinning as his mouth brings me so much pleasure.
Quivering sensations assault my clit, my whole body buzzing with excitement and desperately needing to come. I groan and whisper, my voice so hoarse I don’t even recognize it. “Arson, please.” Everything inside me longs for him to fill me, stretching me while his magnificent body envelops me in a hold so strong nothing can destroy it.
It should be a crime for a man to be so good at this.
He licks over my folds, swiping up the wetness while biting my lower lips, making me gasp and fist his hair harder, not that it stops him. Raking my nails across his skin, I allow the desire to fill me, the sensations rocking me over and over again as he continues to generously lavish my flesh. Two of his fingers slip inside me, going back and forth, finding the spot that should be illegal for how much pleasure it inspires in me.
No.
He should be illegal for the things he is capable of doing to my body.
“So wet. So tight. So very mine,” he whispers over my core, the vibrations of his words sending tickles through me and mingling with the lust burning me whole. Sweat breaks out on my skin, but it does nothing to soothe the inferno inside me.
“Yes, please.” I beg him to finally quench my craving, but he only chuckles, diving back in, now trapping my clit between his lips and sucking on it while his fingers continue to push into me, making me forget my name.
The room is filled with my moans and his groans as he continues to lick my most sensitive part, his tongue stabbing back inside me one last time, and I close my eyes, resting my head on the wall, ready for it to swallow me whole and give me—
I yelp when his touch is gone, and I glance down to see him wipe his mouth on the inside of my thigh, grazing his teeth on it, making my body jerk at the contact, so hot from all his ministrations that just the simplest touch has the power to set me off at any minute.
Then his mouth trails back up, lightly licking my body all over again before he reaches my breasts, giving each one a good suckle before he bites the underside and sucks so hard I’m sure he will leave marks on me that will stay for days.
Oddly, it only excites me more, driving the lust sparking between us almost to a maddening point, and the idea of anyone seeing it on me…. His hands place my legs over his hips and I circle them around him tighter, feeling the tip of his bare cock rubbing up and down my slit, the head slightly entering me. It’s so red and swollen, letting me know that even though he might prolong this, he is as desperate to be with me as I am with him.
Arson tilts my head back, our lips inches apart as he says, “Want to taste how delicious you are, my beauty?”
I nod and his mouth is on me, kissing me passionately with this tongue playing with mine, sharing my taste with me, and that’s when he enters me with a swift thrust, going so deep I hit the wall.
We still for a second, my muscles stretching against the hard length pulsing inside me. We break off the kiss, breathing harshly, and for a second, calmness settles between us as if this connection cements us in this cruel life that we have no choice but to be part of.
“This beast will never let you go,” he whispers into my ear, and I hug him tighter, my lips traveling from his neck to his shoulder, placing a soft kiss there while the finality of it all hits me.
There is no fear though.
Just overpowering relief that I no longer have to be afraid of my own shadow, even though my freedom is forever lost to me, and no one will hurt me as long as this man is with me.
“The beauty accepts the beast with all his flaws” is all the reply he needs to push back and slam into me again, his fingers digging harshly into my ass as he sets the rhythm, slow at first that has us kissing lazily while he moves in and out, each of his strokes deep and playing on every nerve in my body, transforming the need in me into a pool of desire that I’m about to drown in.
He connects our mouths again, his strokes growing faster until he hikes me higher and really starts giving it to me, each jerk of his hips thrusting into me deeper and deeper, bringing me so close to the oblivion he showed me last night.
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke, and that’s all it takes for everything to erupt inside me, making me arch my head back and cry out, basking in the pleasure sliding over my skin and creating a cocoon around me.
My pussy clenches around him, our kissing turning open-mouthed with us taking occasional breaths as he continues to thrust into me one, two, three more times before I feel him stiffen inside me and come, groaning into my mouth as he finds his release.
He lets go of my mouth, hiding his face in the crook of my neck, and I hug him close, enjoying this moment in time where everything is right in the world and my subconscious or stupid childhood dreams don’t infiltrate my mind.
Arson.
A beast who got tired of waiting for his beauty to cross his path, so he decided to find her and kidnap her instead.
And as wrong as it sounds… this beauty wouldn’t have wanted anyone else.
Arson
Breathing heavily into her neck, I tighten my hold on Chloe as we slowly come down from the high and out-of-this-world experience.
Her moans, the scratch of her nails on my scars, the way she comes undone under me… the way her body accepts mine in hers without any reservation.
The way she accepts me without any reservation… this is the pleasure I’ve never known before in my life. I’ve had plenty of sex, but never like this and never with women who know who I am.
With her, I don’t have to hide, and I both love and hate it.
Love, because she gives me freedom to be who I am with the only woman I’ve ever wanted to claim as mine.
Hate, because by choosing me and my dark side, she gives up her freedom for me, and despite how much she clings to me in this moment, her legs and arms wrapped around me as if she will never let me go… I know it will be a barrier between us forever.
And no matter how much of a bastard it makes me, freedom is one thing I’ll never be able to grant her. For this devil can no longer survive in his hell without the angel who has the power to quiet the screams echoing in my ears every single day of my life.
In her arms, there is solace,
too addicting for a monster like me to ever let it slip through my fingers.
Unfortunately for her, it's a curse.
Tightening my hold on her, I push off the wall and go in the direction of the stairs, while she rests her chin on my shoulder. “Living room is a mess,” she murmurs, her silky hair tickling my nose, not that I give a fuck since her flowery scent fills my nostrils.
A man can start wars just to have this scent surround him, instead of the burned flesh permanently attached to my brain wherever I go.
“The cleaning company coming tomorrow will take care of that,” I grunt, and her giggle fills the space as she leans back, opening her mouth in mock shock and exclaims dramatically.
“So there are no fairies who come to clean and cook for you?”
“The only fairy-tale creature in this house is you.” I fucking hate people in my space, and live-in staff are the worst for me. Before you know it, everyone has an opinion, like Levi, and they decide they can butt in with their fucking advice that no one asked for in the first place.
At least with the company, they come and go without me having to see the same face twice.
And the biggest draw of all?
They don’t have time to snoop around the property, and in this learn everything about it, down to several escape routes I’ve created in case of great danger.
Trust is a gift not everyone is worthy of.
Especially not some fucking strangers.
Quickly getting us to the third floor, I step inside the room and place her on the bed before lying next to her, and she instantly rolls to my side, pressing herself flush against me, and throws her leg over me. “Your house needs more color.”
“Be my guest,” I reply and then wince when she slaps me on my chest.
“I’m serious. It’s like we live in a modern cave.”
Catching her hand with mine, I lace our fingers together and then tug her toward me until she settles on my chest, so I don’t miss any of her expressions.
Arson’s Captive Page 25