I stash the panties in my pocket and head upstairs. The door to her bedroom has been left ajar, and I'm worried as fuck she's going to wake up, since she's such a light sleeper. But I brought reinforcements this time because I want to stay longer tonight. I want to play with my toy, and nothing is going to fucking stop me.
I take the small wrap from my pocket, unfold the end, and let the white powder fall into the glass of water she keeps by her bed before finally turning to face her. She's sleeping naked – it's a warm night. The sheets cover up everything apart from one nipple, the bud hardened by the breeze coming from the open window. And just like that, I’m hard. Fuck, she's mesmerizing. I can barely take my eyes off her.
The temptation to touch her is so damn great, but I force myself to keep my distance. The drink on her nightstand fizzes as I move quietly through the room. Her phone's next to her, probably filled with more fucking texts from that smug Mexican bastard. Her dark hair is fanned over the pillow and she looks as breathtaking as ever. I want her. I want her so fucking much my balls ache.
I'm back in front of her bed soon enough, barely resisting the urge to touch my fingertips to her porcelain skin. The scar is a permanent reminder of what I've done to her already. Raised and puckered, it would feel so fucking good against my fingers.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and touch it. She doesn't move, and my cock swells as I trace my fingertip over the length of the scar that mars her beautiful face. I see the other scars too. The ones I saw on that magazine cover. There are so many of them, small, big, some deep, some shallow. And some wounds are recent. She's been hurting herself. She's been hurting herself for a very long fucking time.
Just as I pull my hand back, she stirs, as if disturbed by the loss of the comforting touch on her cheek. Fuck. She's going to wake up, and yet I don't want to move away. Every cell in my body is screaming for more. I want to part her legs and see that pretty little snatch. I want to grab her by the hair and feel the weight of her dark mane in my hands. But she's going to wake up any second. The longer I stay here, the more dangerous this is. She's almost awake... so very close to busting me.
Her pretty mouth opens and she mutters something, and then her eyes fly open, and I know I'm fucked... but maybe that's exactly what I've wanted all along.
Chapter 11
Dove
I could swear Parker was just in my room.
I rub my eyes, glancing to the window, but I know I'm the one who left it open. There's no one there anymore, nothing but the soft breeze blowing in and ruffling the white silk curtains. With a groan, I pull myself up. I guess I was expecting too much by hoping for another night of uninterrupted sleep.
Picking myself up from the bed, I shut the window. It's chilly in the room, and I'm parched. I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand and down it in one go. It tastes bitter, and I make a face, wondering if I’d kept the glass on there for too long.
I'm certain I won't be able to fall asleep again, but a few moments after finishing my drink, I realize just how bone tired I am. I get back in the bed and pull the sheets up, burrowing in the comfort of my duvet, my eyes feeling heavier and heavier as I start drifting off. I must've imagined Parker right there, in my bedroom.
There's no other explanation.
***
Parker is here again, but so is Raphael. The rational side of me knows it's a dream, but there's nothing I can do to stop the two mirages from having their way with me – not now that they've tied me down. The silk ropes feel amazing against my skin, holding me captive as the two men circle me, their cruel intentions making their eyes sparkle with darkness.
I know they're going to fuck me, I just don't know which one of them is going to go first.
Raphael approaches and I notice he's holding a knife. I begin to thrash against my restraints, but it's no use. He's going to hurt me, and my eyes go to Parker's, desperately pleading for help. But help doesn't come.
Raphael raises the knife and I close my eyes so I don't have to see the blood. But he doesn't cut me. No, instead he starts sawing against the ropes in an effort to get me free.
That's when Parker loses it. He roars to life, knocking Raphael out and kicking the knife out of both our reaches.
"You're never leaving," Parker snarls at me as Raphael groans weakly on the ground. "You're mine, Dove, you're fucking mine, and I'll never let go."
I descend into a cacophony of pleas, pleading with him to let me go, but I know it's no use. Parker will never leave. Parker will never let go. Parker and I are tethered together, our sick, dark connection meaning we'll never be apart. I feel the invisible strings pulling me to him. There's no fighting it.
"You want me to fuck you in front of him?" Parker hisses in my ear. "Want your boy toy to watch how a real man fucks you, little bird?"
I shake my head, opening my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Parker fondles me, my hair, my tits, the embarrassingly wet spot between my legs. He touches me gently. Caresses me like he cares, like he's not trying to hurt me at all. But I know him. I know the monster hiding behind his handsome face. He gets off on it – the darkness, the pain. And now, he's more determined than ever to hurt me.
His fingers plunge into my wetness and he fucks me hard while more soundless screams escape my lips. I hate him as my body vibrates from his roughness. I hate him as he spits and snarls with every thrust, but it feels so fucking good. And when I moan, the sound finally comes while Raphael watches helplessly from the ground.
"I'm sorry," I mouth at him. "I'm sorry, but I want him... I want Parker, I don't want you. I'm so sorry..."
"Keep apologizing," Parker mutters in my ear. "Keep telling him it's me you want... It's me you choose... I'm the one you're going to end up with, little bird... We all fucking know it. You're mine. My property. My little bird."
"No!" I cry out.
"Yes!" he snarls back. "My property... my girl... my. Fucking. Girl."
I start crying but he pays it no mind, continuing his vicious assault on my barely resisting body, stretching me, hurting me.
I hate him.
I want him.
I love him...
***
I wake up with a start. Fuck.
My head is heavy. My mind feels thick like a fog has descended upon every thought, and my mouth is dry as hell. I rub my eyes, thanking my lucky stars the mirage and everything that followed was all just a dream. But there's something else... something that hurts.
Getting up from the bed, I wince when I feel a strange weight between my legs. My hand shoots between my thighs. My pussy is soaked, and I flush in embarrassment as I realize just how much my dirty dream turned me on. But there's something else. Something cold and hard. And it's not in my pussy. It's wedged tightly in my ass.
I keep feeling around, running to the mirror on the wall and bending over. And there it is – a silver metal thing, with a pink crystal heart. It's a plug, and it's lodged deep inside me.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth that has opened in shock. What the fuck? I don't own a butt plug, so what the hell is that thing doing inside me?
I tug on it to get it out and a sensation I've never felt before makes my knees weak. Fuck. How am I going to get this thing out? And, more importantly... am I going to come pulling it out of my body?
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as I lie back on the bed, raising one leg up to my chest. My fingers wrap around the base of the plug and I start tugging on it in an effort to get it out.
It feels good. So fucking good, my teeth draw blood from my lip as I keep going. Except now I'm not pulling it out. No, I'm playing with it, twisting it, pushing it in and out as I bring myself closer and closer to an unwilling orgasm. I can't explain the toy stuck inside me, and worry twists my insides into a thousand knots. Finally, I pull the plug out with a soft scream as it pops out of me. I can feel how much it stretched me. Another few minutes and I would've come from it.
I toss it aside, unable to even
look at the stupid thing as I rush to the bathroom.
My cheeks are burning up as I begin scrubbing myself. It feels as if I'm washing years of dirty secrets down the drain, and I scrub until my body is burning and red.
Wrapping myself up in a thick towel, I go back to the bedroom, my eyes instantly going to the corner where I tossed that metal plug.
It's not there.
My towel falls to the ground as I raise my hands to my mouth. How can it not be there? Didn't I just toss it aside? Didn't I just have it in me?
With a start, I remember the handbag, the thief. Now the plug. Am I going crazy? What's happening to me? Why can't I remember the simplest of things?
I push all the worries to the back of my mind. I can't think about any of it right now. Instead, I focus on one person who always manages to calm my racing mind.
Sam.
I was so worried when I didn't find him in his usual spot last night, and I cross my fingers as I load up some food for him in a brown paper bag and head to his alley.
My heart soars when I see him there, crumpled in a heap on his makeshift bed.
"Sam!" I rush toward him, kneeling in front of him on the dirty pavement. He won't look at me. "I came looking for you last night. Where were you? I was so worried."
"I had something I needed to do," he mutters, motioning to the brown bag. "That for me?"
"Yes." I pass him the bag and he digs into some cookies. "I brought something yesterday, but you weren't here. What happened, Sam? Where did you go?"
"I told you, I had something to do." Am I imagining it, or is his reply strained and unwelcoming? Either way, he's making it clear he doesn't want any further questions. But I can't help myself.
"Oh, Sam, it's not the drugs again, is it?" He keeps eating, refusing to look at me. "Please tell me it's not the drugs. I was worried sick, Sam."
"Don't worry about me, Dove," he says finally. "You have better things to do than worry about an old man everyone else was wise enough to forget."
"I could never forget you, Sam," I tell him firmly. "You're important to me. Much too important to forget."
He doesn't respond, just eats his cookies in silence. I guess he just doesn't want to talk to me today, so I pick myself up.
"Well, I better go," I finally mutter. "I'm working at the soup kitchen today. Do you want to come over? It's chowder night."
He shakes his head without looking at me. "Thanks for the food, kid."
"You're welcome." I kick at a pebble, unsure what to do next. But Sam won't even meet my eyes, so I decide to write today off as a bad day for him. I quietly mutter a goodbye, but he doesn't respond as I head back to my place with slumped shoulders.
I spend the rest of the day at the soup kitchen, working hard to fill more hungry mouths than we can handle. At the end of the day, I sign another check for a sizable donation to the soup kitchen, and the head, Velma, thanks me profusely. I just smile tensely in return. The feeling that I'm still not doing enough is still there, convincing me I'll never be good enough.
As I come back to my place, my face lights up when I see Robin sitting on my doorstep.
"What are you doing here?" I ask jovially as we hug.
"Thought you could use the company," he grins, holding up a bag. "I brought Mexican food today."
My smile falters because I don't want to eat after everything that's happened today. Still, I'm thrilled to see Robin, and I invite him in. We settle on the couch in front of the TV and quickly catch up while he digs into the quesadillas he brought with him. I know he's going to pressure me about food tonight – I can tell from his tense demeanor. So I'm grateful when his phone starts going off.
"Elise?" I ask. He nods, groaning and running his fingers through his hair. "Maybe you should ask her to come over."
"Elise?" Robin looks shocked, laughing. "What, you didn't get enough of her when you went shopping the other day?"
"I just thought it might be fun to watch a movie. All three of us." I smile innocently. If Robin can tell I'm only doing this because I want to distract him, he doesn't show it, but he does look suspicious.
"Maybe," he finally mutters, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "I'll do it, under one condition."
"What's that?"
"You invite your new crush over, too." Robin's grin is mischievous. "You know, the Raphael guy."
"You want to meet him?" Despite my stressful day, I find myself grinning as my brother nods. "That's actually not a bad idea. But do I look alright? Am I a mess? I've been working all day."
"You look great," my brother insists. "Now call him. I want to meet this mystery guy you're so head over heels for."
"Oh, shut up," I mutter, but for some reason, I can't keep the smile off my face. "Okay, I'll call him. Elise won't mind?"
"Why would she?"
"I don't know."
"Just call him already," Robin laughs. "Let's see if he's worth you getting all flustered over."
Chapter 12
Nox
The white powder I put in Dove's drink works like a charm. She's out in moments, leaving me free to do whatever the hell I want with her body. She doesn't even wake up when I pull the duvet off her. For such a light sleeper, she is deeply slumbering now – there's no way she'll wake up. I've dosed the powder carefully, making sure not to harm her, but also ensuring she'll be fast asleep for the duration of the time I play with her.
After I pull the duvet off her, I take some time just to admire her stunning naked body. The scars are marring her, but they don't take away from her beauty. She is beautiful in an inoffensive way that strikes me to my very core. Her perky pink nipples stand erect, just begging for me to take them in my mouth. Her pussy is waxed bare save for a strip of dark hair running down to her sweet center. She is painfully thin, though, her bones nearly protruding from her pearlescent skin.
Dove is ruining herself. Day by day, she gets weaker, thinner and succumbs more to the disorders plaguing her mind and body. I vow to make things better for her. To make sure she'll be okay, that she'll eat right, that she won't starve herself any longer.
But I'm running out of patience. I need to touch her. Need to feel her silky skin beneath my fingertips. I reach out, laying a hand on her stomach. I expected it to be cold, but she's warm, hot-blooded under the pearliness. I groan.
With my free hand, I reach in my pocket and pull out the toy I bought especially for her. I saw it in a shop a couple weeks back and bought it with Dove in mind, already fantasizing about putting it in her tight little asshole. I still remember taking her virginities, every single one of them, while she writhed in pleasure and pain. Tonight's going to be even better, because tonight, Dove can't fight back.
My fingers roam over her body, exploring every forbidden inch. I slide them under her breasts, feeling the weight of them in my palm. Finally touching her feels fucking surreal. I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, breathlessly whispering her name. I almost want her to wake up. To see me. To realize I'm the one who's been fucking with her all this time. But I fight the urge and stroke her instead, allowing my fingertips to familiarize themselves with the layout of her body again.
God, she's beautiful. Her porcelain skin marred only by the scar I gave her and the ones she gave herself, shimmers in the moonlight. My cock is so hard it's straining against the fabric of my jeans, and I can't stand another moment of not having my fist wrapped around it. I pull it out, stroking my impressive length over Dove's naked thigh. My pre-cum smears from my tip, marking her as my property as I stroke myself harder to draw out the seed from my balls.
I can't resist reaching between her legs. With two fingers, I part her silky folds, allowing my spit to drip from my lips to her hot little center. I rub it in, groaning when she stirs in her sleep, so very eager for more. I want to fucking devour her.
Turning around the plug I brought with me in my hands, I put it up to my mouth and make it wet with my spit. I play with her then, running the toy over her pearlescent body, touching
it to every bit of her, stroking the tip of it over her puckered nipples, sliding it down over her stomach and between her pussy lips with ease. She's wet. Always so fucking ready for me, begging me to do more to her sweet, unconscious little body. God, I want to fuck her so badly. Desire is twisting up my insides, demanding I give in to the darkness that is eager to wreak havoc on Dove. But I can't. I must resist a while longer.
I start fingering her. One finger first, then two, then three, stretching her tight little snatch as much as I can. My cock is fucking dripping with pre-cum. I want to be inside her, but I need to keep fighting those urges. Instead, I finger her hard, toying with her asshole with the plug I brought. It'll slip in soon, filling her up, allowing her ass to stretch the way it will have to when she inevitably takes my dick in it. I push the plug in by a good inch, stretching her sweet asshole around it. I toy with her with one hand, the other massaging my throbbing cock. Finally, I push the plug fully inside. As her asshole swallows it up, a gasp escapes Dove's lips and her eyes flutter open. I pause. I'm convinced she's woken up, but those pretty eyes flutter closed again, saving me from getting busted. She moans in her sleep, restlessly shaking as her body accepts my gift.
I'm so fucking desperate to come. I want to fill her. To mark her as mine. But I need to fight those instincts. I need to hold back before it's too late. I'll fuck her soon enough.
Still, I can't resist the urge to swipe my cockhead against her lips, leaving a trail of wetness in my wake. Dove's pink tongue darts out, licking at the remains of my pre-cum, and she smiles in her sleep. She's such a good girl. I want to reward her, so I toy with her some more. Fingers disappear in her soaked pussy while my other hand twists the plug in her tight little hole. I could spend hours doing this. Toying with her, showing her what pleasure is all about. But I'm going to get busted if I stay here for much longer. The effects of the powder will wear off soon, and I already risked getting caught when her eyes flew open the first time. God-fucking-damn-it, it'll be hard to leave her, though. With her mouth parted and my pre-cum still glistening on her lips, it takes everything in me not to fuck her there and then.
Tyrant Stalker: A Dark Forbidden Romance (Tyrant Dynasty Book 2) Page 8
