I’m going to fuck Marcus DeAngelis, and though shame pulses heavily through my veins, I can’t wait. It’s going to be raw, hard, and fast, exactly what my body has been craving. So why the hell not? If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well reap the rewards and join the dark side before I do.
8
Marcus’ tight grip keeps me from pulling away as my body shakes with nerves. I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to me, the thought of his fingers touching my body, but how else is this supposed to happen? He’s going to have me whether I’m pulling away or not, so I might as well come to terms with it and try to find pleasure in his touch.
His hand falls to my waist and he forces me back until I’m standing directly in the center of my small room. My tough girl act falls away and I’m left with nothing but the shy girl who hasn’t truly been touched by a man in months. I have no idea how this is going to go. He’s already promised that it’ll be hard and fast, and he sure as fuck made it clear that he won’t stop until I’m coming undone beneath his touch. The question remains—is a psycho like Marcus DeAngelis even capable of giving a woman what she needs without slicing her throat in the process?
Fuck. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
My breath is shaky and despite the bright sunshine streaming in through the small window, the room has never seemed so dark. I’m determined though. If I make it out of this alive, I want to know that it wasn’t all for nothing. Besides, how many other girls get to say that they’ve been thoroughly fucked by one of the notorious DeAngelis brothers? Actually … probably a lot.
His eyes remain locked on mine, so deep yet somehow so dead at the same time. It’s impossible to look away. It’s as though he’s daring me to try and run, daring me to fear him and fear what he’s about to do to me, but that little twisted feeling inside my gut has me standing here in silence, waiting to see just how good this is really going to be.
The shame is thick and I don’t doubt that once he’s done with me and I’m left as a helpless heap on the dirty floor that I’m going to regret my decision to not fight him on this, but my curiosity and need is thicker.
My knees buckle under me and I barely keep myself standing as he raises my bound wrists above my head. A fearful whimper escapes my lips and I don’t doubt that he can see just how scared I am to explore this with him.
I keep my eyes locked on his as he continues raising my hands high, and for a moment, I wonder what the fuck he’s attempting to do, but that curiosity doesn’t last long as the thick material keeping my wrists bound is slipped over a large hook.
My loud gasp pierces the tension-filled silence and my gaze snaps up in confusion. I’ve searched this room a million times over the last few days and I could swear until I was blue in the face that there was no hook dangling in this room. He must have brought it with him and attached it to something in the ceiling while I was out cold, no thanks to his douchebag brother.
I tug hard on my wrists and the loud clanging of chain links fills the room. “What the fuck is this?” I demand, my gaze shifting back to Marcus, my heart racing as I realize that maybe he has a little more in mind than a simple hard and fast fucking.
His already dead gaze darkens and drops down my body, looking over my curves in the black silk gown like a snake taking in his next meal. “You didn’t think I was about to lay you down and seduce you like some kind of love-sick fool, did you?”
I swallow hard and suck in a deep breath, clenching my jaw as the reality of just how screwed I am starts pulsing through my veins. He steps across the room and I watch as he reaches out and curls his wrist around a low hanging chain. My gaze shifts over it and just as I realize that it’s the same chain connected to the hook around my bound wrists, he pulls hard and I’m lifted right off the ground, my tiptoes barely skimming across the hard stone beneath my feet.
“PUT ME DOWN,” I yell, the panic tearing through me, certain that he’s about to kill me.
I’m a fucking idiot. I should have fought against him, screamed for help, or done something, but what good would it have done? No one is coming to save me.