Molly flinched at his self-analysis, lifting her right hand to trace a line over his face. “Not a psycho,” she replied in a barely audible whisper. “I’ve done a great deal of research on the subject in the past, and psychopaths don’t feel empathy. That’s not you, Connor.”
He shook his head, but paused for her finger to resume its ministrations. “Not true,” he told her, pressing his lips against the tip of the digit. “I felt no empathy for Lydia. Or for you for that matter. In both cases I just took what I wanted.”
Molly tilted her head at the devastatingly handsome face in front of her. In so many ways he was right, and she knew that. Connor could be quite the monster when it suited him. Yet since his impromptu confession and penance, something had changed. It was as though acknowledging what he’d done really had been cathartic for him, and now when he looked at her, she saw something different in those green eyes. They were lighter somehow, less weighed down with the ghosts of the past. Maybe he had really laid Lydia to rest somehow.
“If that were true, then why tell me about her?” she asked, pressing the point as she lightly pressed her finger against his lips.
It was the question which had plagued her for so long.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled around her flesh. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who actually deserved the truth. After everything, I thought I should give you that.”
Molly blinked down at him, her gaze insistent as she took in the fine lines forming around those intense green eyes. Connor was a killer, and not the romanticized sort who had killed for passion, either. The man had taken the life of another woman just because he wanted to—because he could—and there was no sugarcoating that. Worse still, he’d gotten away with it, and after everything that had transpired, it was almost certain he’d never be convicted for Lydia’s murder. Even worse than all of that though, was the fact that she was now complicit in the whole sordid affair. Not only had she not wanted justice to find her captor, she’d actually helped him escape it. That meant Molly’s own hands were now bloodstained. She was almost as guilty as him. They were both guilty.
“Your honesty means so much,” she whispered at length, raising her hand to bury her fingers in his lush dark hair.
“Your loyalty means more,” he told her. “I have shown you who I really am, and even after you’ve faced the devil, you’re still prepared to love him.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she murmured in response. “That devil has possessed me. I am his now.”
One of those dark brows arched at Molly’s words, making hot arousal rush from her core. “You always were,” he told her with a grin. “It just took you a while to realize it.”
She giggled at that, pressing her forehead against his as the hand beneath her ass lifted her up as though she weighed nothing at all.
“I want you,” he breathed, his tone urgent.
Hungry green eyes found hers, forcing their faces apart in pursuit of Molly’s consent.
“Fuck me then, Master,” she panted, placing all the emphasis on the final word as the hand at her middle went south to join the first at her buttocks. She gasped as they skimmed over her punished flesh. “Take what belongs to you.”
Connor didn’t need a second invitation. He reached for the near-by cabinet, collecting a condom and sliding it over his cock, which had already hardened beneath her. In a flash, his erection found her slick entrance as though it knew the way on its own. By the time she could feel the crown, those large hands had lifted her a few inches above his hardness, before bringing her back down at speed. His shaft impaled her all at once, making her cry out as she landed against his balls.
“You do belong to me,” he growled into her ear as she struggled to catch her breath. “You’re mine, this sweet cunt is mine, and these lips are mine.” His mouth captured hers in an instant as if to prove the point.
Molly moaned into his mouth, writhing uncontrollably as his tongue probed beyond her lips. At the same time, his hands shifted her pussy from his cock again. By the time he had thrust deep inside her once more, she was lost to the sensual rhythm. If this was the life of submission Connor had in store, then Molly couldn’t fucking wait to live it.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Connor pulled up in the small parking lot a few days later, cutting the engine as he turned to look at his kitten. She looked peaceful—content even—and for a second, the sight of her took his breath away.
“Here we are,” he murmured, although Connor had no clue why.
Their destination was obvious. They could identify it from the gray ocean which crashed ahead of them, and anyway, they had both been here before.
“Thank you,” came the whispered reply, and as Molly spoke, she offered him a small smile. “I know you didn’t really want to come, Master.”
He exhaled, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. “It’s not that,” he explained for what seemed like the fiftieth time. “I just don’t see what you find so captivating about the place.”
The coastline here was gloomy and dull. It was always bloody windy, which dropped the temperature by about ten degrees, whatever the time of year, and frankly, Connor found it all rather depressing.
Molly’s smile grew into a grin. “I’m not sure, either,” she confessed. “I guess I just have a fetish for bleak and desolate things.” She laughed, the sound echoing around the front seat of his car. “There’s a beauty in it, Master. If you look hard enough.”
Connor smiled drolly at her response. His kitten was always so fucking smart. “I see,” he mused out loud. “I’ll keep that in mind, pet.”
She smirked at him, but her expression soon shifted again, transforming back into that eager one which reminded him of an excited puppy. “Can we get out?” she asked, nearly panting at the thought. “I’d love to walk the coast with you, Master.”
He ran his tongue over his lip at the question. Connor loved how she always asked permission now, it was a sign of just how far they’d come. For a moment, he considered refusing her, making her wait; making her suffer, but one look in her animated eyes told him that prospect was useless. If Molly was changed, then so was Connor, and his desire to inflict needless suffering on his pet was now predominantly limited to their private, lustful interactions.
Mostly. The little voice in his head reminded him.
Yes, mostly, he agreed as he threw her a wink. But, Molly knew that about him. She was no longer an innocent victim. She had paid her money, and taken her choice.
“Come on then,” he replied with an exaggerated sigh.
The truth was the idea of walking hand in hand on the beach with her was not so bad, after all. It was like something out of one of those shitty romantic novels his old girlfriends had read, except now it was real, and the thought made him feel alive.
Molly was out of the passenger seat in seconds, and he exited from the driver’s side, smiling at her excited face. Her enthusiasm was apparently contagious.
“Master?” she called, reaching out her hand to him as he strode to where she stood waiting.
Connor took her tiny palm gladly, interlinking their fingers as he guided her down the concrete ramp which led to the sand. He recalled the time he’d met her here before, and how anxious he’d been that day. It had been the first time he’d laid eyes on his kitten since the trial, and the sight of her edging down this exact spot as he’d waited on the beach, had been a sight for sore eyes.
So much had happened since then. So much intensity and experience, but then that was the way with Connor and Molly’s relationship right from the start. He had seen to that.
Molly giggled as she almost lost her footing, but Connor caught her reflexively, his hand slinking around her waist and pulling her against him for support.
“Are you okay?” he demanded, hearing the concern etched into his voice.
It was such an ironic thing to ask the woman he’d once kidnapped and tormented, but he meant every word. Connor loved her. He loved every in
ch of her, and keeping her safe and happy was now the most important factor in his life. Like a moth to a flame, he’d been drawn to her right from the start. That’s why he’d read the books, that’s why he’d chatted to her online, and that’s why he’d hatched the plan to take her. Connor’s attraction to his kitten was irresistible. He knew it sounded pathetic, like he didn’t have any control over his actions, but that’s how it felt to him.
That’s convenient, grumbled the nagging voice in his mind. Now you don’t have to accept any responsibility for what you’ve done, do you, Connor?
He gazed out at the endless, gray water, considering the accusation. Frankly, he resented the indictment now, after all of the sacrifices he had made to put things right. He had suffered to understand the pain he’d caused; to feel, for the first time, what it had been like to be on the receiving end of his cruel, sadistic streak. And with Molly’s help, he hoped he had allowed Lydia to finally move on, to go to a better place. The place she deserved to be. It wasn’t a perfect solution. It wasn’t justice in the conventional sense of the word, but he reasoned it was a fair one. Or, as fair as this life ever got.
And now, he had Molly, and he had a future. Something to live for; someone to fight for, for the first time in forever. No one else could possibly understand what Connor felt when he looked into his kitten’s eyes. They couldn’t comprehend the connection between them. This wasn’t one of your regular romances, the sort which burgeons fast, and then withers away once the lust died. This could never wither. Their love had risen from the deepest pits of despair, a black place where nothing was supposed to survive, let alone be born. And now it was blooming, like the petals of those amaryllises she loved so much. It was big, and bold and fucking beautiful, and Connor grinned as his thoughts on the matter settled on the inevitable conclusion. It was theirs, and they didn’t have to justify it to anyone.
Fuck what they thought. Fuck them all.
“I’m fine, Master,” she answered him happily. “You have me.”
And she was right. He did.
They strolled along the beach, his arm snaked protectively around Molly’s body. She was so happy as she stared out into the sea, high on the ozone, or something. This was the best Molly had felt in years, maybe it was the best she’d ever felt. And that was down to him. He had done this. Connor had made the changes she needed to make this love affair a viable thing, and for that, she couldn’t thank him enough.
As she gazed up into his pensive face, she still wasn’t sure she knew the man entirely. She had certainly seen fragments of him, and in the last few weeks, she had seen a new, vulnerable side. Molly had even witnessed him empathize for the first time, something she had once sworn he was incapable of doing, but he had done it. Connor had taken the time to seek his own redemption. For Lydia, and for the things he’d done to Molly, plus all the other fucked up things he’d probably done in his life. She wasn’t sure if his penance had been enough in the eyes of Malone’s God, but then, she didn’t believe in Him anyway. It had been enough for her. Too much, actually; the deed had been fucking dangerous, and a part of her still couldn’t believe that Dalton had ever agreed to do it, but still. It was done. Connor had paid the piper. Nothing could ever bring Lydia back, but if there really was such a thing as life after death, then Lydia could be reassured, Connor was sorry. He was contrite, and for the first time, he actually understood what he had done. He cared.
“It’s beautiful here.”
She hadn’t intended to say it, but the words bled from her lips as her eyes gazed out over the dark, desolate ocean. Molly had been right in her prior description. It was bleak, but there was an errant beauty in its gloom, and instinctively, she was drawn to the power of the ferocious waves as they lapped at the shore just beyond her.
Connor stopped walking at her words, and spun her around to face him. “No it’s not,” he told her. “Or, it shouldn’t be, but you make it beautiful, kitten. That’s your power.”
Molly shook her head at his empty flattery. She was disheveled and hadn’t even had time to shower before they’d set out this morning. There was no way she was beautiful. But still, she loved that he had said it, and as she gazed up into those captivating green eyes, she loved the feeling she found in them.
He smiled down at her, his expression sardonic, as though he was daring her to challenge him on the point. Molly met his smile with one of her own. She was already decided though, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure what else to say in response. “And thanks again for bringing us here. I just adore it.”
Connor reached down and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I said I’d take you,” he replied. “And I have another little surprise for you, too, kitten.”
Her belly knotted at his words. Connor’s surprises could be ominous. “Oh?” she whispered, trying to conceal the sudden rush of nerves that flooded her system.
His dark brow arched at her tone, but he didn’t pass comment. “Yes, oh,” he responded. “And I think you’ll like it.”
Connor paused, as though he was waiting for her to say something, but Molly didn’t. She didn’t want to play his games. Not today. Today was as close to perfection as she’d known for a long time, and she didn’t want anything to spoil it.
“Shall I tell you,” he asked gently. “Or, would you rather it was a surprise?”
Molly reached up, drawing her fingers into his luscious brown hair. Christ, she loved his hair. It was just like him, so dark and beautiful. Connor’s lips curled at the action, but he permitted it, leaning over to kiss the arm at the side of his face.
“It’s up to you, Master,” she conceded eventually. “I’ll accept whatever you choose.”
“How very gracious of you, kitten,” he sniggered, but she could see the love in his eyes as she said it.
It was the man talking to her playfully now, not the monster making threats. Her old nemesis rarely came out of his box these days, but despite that, Molly wasn’t fooled. She knew he was there. The monster was waiting, biding his time, until the moment arrived when he would rise again, but she was ready for him now. Molly had two things that she hadn’t had when he’d crashed into her life last year. She had his trust, and she had his love, and with those assets, she knew she could survive whatever sadism the monster brought. And anyway, who was she kidding? Molly would probably fucking love it.
“I’ve booked us a little cottage down the coast,” he went on, apparently having made his choice to tell her the news. “A place we can stay for a couple of days, and enjoy the view.”
He paused, drawing her even closer against his body as a large gust of wind whipped around them. “It’s perfect for us, kitten. The place is called The Amaryllis, and you can see the sea from the front bedroom,” he told her softly. “Which is a good thing, because once I get you in there, you might not get out again for some time.”
Molly’s heart was racing as he threw her a wink, and she gasped instinctively, her sordid little mind imagining all the twisted things he might be referring to.
“Are you sure, Master?” she panted. “Is it safe to hire somewhere away from The Syndicate? You are still on the run, after all.”
Connor smiled at her concern, lowering his face so that his lips grazed over her parted mouth. Molly groaned instinctively at his response. It was so sensual, yet it promised her something much darker.
“You don’t need to worry,” Connor reassured her. “Everything has been booked by The Syndicate, and we have new and trusted friends in the police force these days. That arsehole, Carson, won’t have the chance to fuck up again.”
Molly’s brow furrowed at his words. “Carson?” she repeated.
He shook his head with a grin. “It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “Let’s just say he let us down one too many times.”
She stared up at him, still none the wiser about the guy he referred to, but she knew it didn’t matter. They were going to be safe wherev
er they stayed, and that was the important thing. She couldn’t risk losing him again. Not now, and not ever.
“Thank you, Master,” she replied, meeting Connor’s eyes again. “I never expected to stay.” And then she hesitated, realizing she hadn’t brought anything with her for the occasion. No clothes, no toiletries, no medication. Nothing.
“I don’t have my things with me,” she gasped, finally vocalizing the thought.
“Tsk, kitten,” he chided her teasingly. “Don’t you know me better than that by now? Do you really think I’d have planned all this and not have brought our possessions along for the ride?”
Molly blinked up at him, her heart pounding wildly at his statement. “Really?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “You have everything with us?”
“Of course, I do,” he purred, tracing an invisible line over her lips. “Your Master takes care of you. Remember?”
She blushed, aware of the heat in her cheeks despite the wind, which seemed to be building around them. “I remember,” she murmured. “And I’m grateful.”
Connor swooped then, seizing her apparent surprise at his foresight and claiming her mouth with urgency. His lips crashed into hers, and she groaned as his tongue fucked her with smoldering passion.
“Do you know what I have planned for you, kitten?” he asked as he broke the connection between them. “At the cottage I mean. Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”
Molly gulped, her clit pulsing instinctively at his goading words. “No, Master,” she replied breathlessly.
And she didn’t know, but the look in those wicked green eyes told her it was going to be debauched, and twisted, and fucking wonderful.
Connor smiled down at her, and for just a second, his expression was predatory. “Anything I like, kitten,” he informed her. “I’m going to do anything I fucking like.”
The End
Thank you for reading this Felicity Brandon e-book.
Entwined: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 3) Page 31
