Molly balked at that, snorting out loud at his answer. She had no fear now, despite the rounds and rounds of punishment he had forced her to endure. The cage, the woods – none of that mattered enough to make her afraid. “Not enough?” she laughed sardonically. “But Master, what more is there? What else do I have to give?”
Connor’s large hand reached for her, rising from her lap to her shoulder and then landing gently against the right side of her face. Molly didn’t flinch at its approach, but instinctively she held her breath, aware of its significance somehow.
“This,” he murmured, trailing his digits north to tap softly at her temples. “I want this, too.”
She gulped at his verdict, the tenderness of his words not masking his meaning. “You can’t have that,” she told him, her tone practically insolent. “That belongs to me. That is Molly.”
A wide smile broke out over his flawless complexion. “Exactly,” he replied as his gaze drilled into her with a sudden, new intensity. “I don’t just want the pet to tame, I want Molly as well. I need the woman, and the writer.”
His face had shifted toward her as he spoke, although she swore she never saw him move. Yet now, as she sat opposite him, his head was only a matter of inches from hers. Those hot lips were right there, taunting her with their sordid sensuality.
“You can’t have her,” Molly mumbled, but there was no feeling in her response.
She was stunned, as though Connor had mesmerized her with the power of his eyes alone. In a moment of lucidity, she shook her head, leaning away from him as though she knew she needed to break the spell. The hand at her face shifted, grabbing her nape and holding her in place. Apparently, Connor understood the impact he had on her as well as Molly did.
“I can,” he told her gently. “I can have her, kitten, and furthermore, we both know I will.”
Molly bit her lip, fighting the tears which were pooling in her eyes. Fuck. Fuck him and fuck this! Fuck how this man – this monster – still had the power to do this to her, even after everything he had put her through.
“I won’t give her up for this,” she hissed at him. “I won’t give you everything I am to live leashed to the end of your bed. It’s not enough. It was never going to be enough.”
Molly’s tone was venomous and for a moment Connor drew back, the grip of his fingers at her neck lessening as he moved. Evidently, he was shocked at her strength of feeling on the subject, and the reality made her laugh. It only went to show how little he truly knew her.
“What will be enough?”
He threw the question at her, watching her reactions closely as she absorbed them. For the first time since he’d taken her, Molly was aware that Connor was really on the back foot. Apparently, he hadn’t seen this coming, but it seemed he wanted it badly enough to barter. The thought excited her. It was a chance. A chance to strike a deal with the devil. A chance for freedom.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What will be enough?”
He sat waiting for her response, hanging on her every gesture as though his life depended on it. There was a part of him which understood how fucking ridiculous the whole thing was. After all, he was the one dressed. He was the one with the keys to the house, to the cage. He was the one with the vast array of implements poised to punish his pet, the one in control. The one in charge. Yet despite all of that, it was still Molly with the power now. If he really wanted her – the very essence of the woman he had captured – then he would need her compliance. He couldn’t force it. He couldn’t snatch away who she was. Molly would have to offer it to him.
“More,” she concluded at length. “More than this. Molly needs a partnership, not just a total exchange of power.”
“A partnership?” Connor was aware of the cynicism in his voice, but frankly he didn’t give a shit. A partnership, is that what she’d said? Well, wasn’t that ironic? He’d had a partner once. A partner who would literally have given him everything. Everything she was; everything she had; and in the end he had taken it. He took it all.
“Master,” she breathed. “Connor, listen.”
The sound of his name on her lips made Connor look up. He’d rarely heard the word from her mouth, commanding her to address him respectfully right from the start, but the resonance affected him more than he’d anticipated.
“Before this. Before you took me, when I first met you at the signing, I liked you.” Molly paused, panting a little as she presumably fought to compose herself. “I mean, I liked the look of you, your intriguing smile and your perfectly formed ass.”
Her compliment made him smile. It must have been reflexive, because he swore he never intentionally wanted his emotions to show, but it was already too late. “Perfectly formed, huh?” he replied, throwing her a wink.
What the fuck was that? The little nagging voice in his head asked him. What are you doing? Are you fucking flirting with her now? With the woman you’ve already drugged, taken, bound, caged and degraded?
She giggled back at him in response, the noise finally silencing the irritating monologue. As he watched, a beautiful coy blush crept over her face. It was like nothing he’d ever seen since he’d had her.
“Yes, Master,” she chuckled. “It is, and you are. You’re smart and gorgeous, and I get that you like to do these things, I really do, but…” Her voice trailed away, but he already understood where she was coming from.
“You didn’t want to be taken against your will by some sick fucker from the U.K., huh?” Connor’s tone was light, but her expression told him that his analysis was spot on.
“Exactly,” she replied with a sigh.
“So, what are you telling me, pet?” he asked her directly, drawing her closer toward his body again. “To get the whole package from my captive I need to, what? Woo you, date you, take you to dinner?”
The thought of doing those things with Molly filled his head in an instant. He hadn’t romanced anyone for years, not since Lydia, and maybe not even with her, and the notion was strangely alluring.
She laughed gently at his question. “That would be swell, but not necessarily,” she giggled. “How about just a little more respect? You want me to write our story, and I get that, but how about we really create one together first?”
Molly’s words made him stop and he drew away from her. “Okay,” he murmured, a part of him amazed that he was even contemplating her version of events. “What would you do with our story, pet?”
The sinful look on her face made his cock throb urgently. That was the Molly he wanted. The thinking one, the creative one, the filthy one.
“I wouldn’t scrap it altogether, Master,” she cooed. “Just change it up a little. I’d make it even dirtier in places, and a little more tender in others.”
Molly’s voice was like a seductive purr, hardening his rod with each new syllable.
“Dirtier and more tender, eh?” he smirked at her. “Interesting, kitten. Do tell me more.”
She shifted against him, pressing her gorgeous tits into his shirt at Connor’s reply. “Aha,” she replied teasingly. “I mean, you know I love your domineering side, Master, but sometimes a girl just needs to be held and cherished.”
Connor felt his brow arch at her taunting tone. He knew she was playing with him, and he knew he should probably care, but somehow, he was finding the whole performance totally enthralling. “You do deserve to be cherished,” he whispered, trailing his fingers down the length of her hair. “I’m just not great at that sort of thing.”
Molly’s face hovered just beyond his, her lips moist and tantalizingly close. “I beg to differ with you, Master,” she began. “I don’t agree. You’ve held me for however long we’ve been here, and you’ve roused me back to life. You can be tender. You just don’t like to let it show.”
He chortled at her evaluation of his personality. The poor little thing didn’t have a clue how far off the mark she was. Connor wasn’t tender. Connor was a monster.
“Perhaps,” he told her,
deciding now was not the time to start a conversation with his little captive about how dark his blood really ran. “Maybe there’s just something about you which brings it out in me?”
There he went, flirting with her again. Why would he do that when he already had her at his beck and call? What was going on in his head; was he actually starting to fall for the salacious little Molly? What the fuck was wrong with him?
“That’s an interesting thought,” she whispered, taking his flirtatious lead and throwing it right back to him. “Maybe there is.”
There was a fire burning in her eyes. Wildfire. And the look of her dilating pupils intoxicated him. For a moment he almost forgot the truth; forgot he was a murderer, and he imagined a life with Molly. An actual life where they could both be happy and free. A life where she could live as his kitten full-time, and in some sort of twisted, consensual agreement. A life where the woman could be allowed to write, and the whore could be leashed, caged and fucked whenever they both needed it. It sounded like paradise.
“And dirtier?” he demanded, dropping his voice into a low, husky growl. “You mentioned dirtier, too. What could be dirtier than caging you, than keeping you in chains, than fucking you on a leash?”
“You’ve read my words, Master,” she replied breathily. “You know how depraved my mind can be, and how fucking filthy I can go. There’s a lot more to come between us, if you get Molly as well as the animal.”
Fuck.
She was good. He had to give her that. His cock was rock-solid by now, her teasing making it ache wonderfully as her dark eyes twinkled at him. Molly was the definition of fucking salacious.
“Oh, I’m going to have both, kitten,” he snarled, tightening his hold on her hair as he slipped a small silver packet from his pocket. The foil was in his teeth in seconds, liberating the condom at the same time his hand freed his hard length from his pants. There was a moment of stillness when their eyes met, and there was no sound, save for their ragged breathing. And then he moved, sliding the sheath over his erection, and pulling her against his chest. In one smooth action he thrust his cock north toward her slick entrance. As their flesh made contact, the sounds of their rasping responses combined, filling the air around them.
Connor barely even heard the noises as he delved into her sweet wetness. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt replete.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Molly’s eyes fell closed reflexively as he thrust deep inside her. Fuck, he felt good inside her. So good.
Too good.
And as his enormous cock withdrew and slammed hard back into place, Molly began to wonder. Was she really insane? Had she completely lost the plot altogether? You weren’t supposed to enjoy sex with the man who had taken you. The man who literally snatched you from the street and held you captive. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Was it? And why had she been flirting with him so shamelessly just then? Making eyes at him, and batting her lashes like a school girl. Maybe she finally had lost her mind. Perhaps it was the inevitable conclusion of being dehumanized so effectively for so long.
Nothing could be the same now. Molly would be affected by this experience forever, she knew that, but could she really contemplate a future with a man like Connor? A man who caged her, who punished her for fun? A monster who exploited everything that was good about her, including her precious words. Even for her perverted fantasies that had to be some kind of sick joke.
“Fuck, pet,” he growled as he slid into her wetness again. “You are amazing.”
She spread her legs wider around his hips, forcing her thoughts to scatter as she ground against his hardness. He was right, this was scintillating, and that’s what she had to focus on right now. Take the pleasure. Get the release. It’s the least she deserved. Connor’s shaft punished her throbbing clit with each new thrust, and every moment pushed her closer to the satisfaction she craved.
The sex was fast and frenzied. He fucked her like his very essence depended on coming inside her, and for her part, Molly clawed at his skin, splaying her body wide to take every inch of him. There was an urgency inside her body, contracting at her core and resonating out to her limbs. She needed this climax in the most profound way. It was meaningful somehow, to receive pleasure from the same man who’d delighted in causing her so much pain. As her punished ass grazed against his trouser-covered legs, the hurt only spurred her on, giving her impetus as she chased her long-overdue orgasm.
The wall of pleasure approached like an unwavering foe. It was coming for her. It was coming hard, and there was no way of escaping that now. More than that, she didn’t want to escape it. She wanted it. She needed it, and furthermore, she fully intended to milk every last moment of it from the monstrous cock buried inside her pussy. As the wave crashed down over her, Molly gasped, aware of green eyes drilling into her face. Her body spasmed, lightning splintering from her core as her pussy clenched helplessly around the shaft fucking her.
Too fucking good.
The thought flitted briefly through her mind as she panted for air. This was too good. As she surrendered to the sensations, the reality became clear to her all of a sudden. Molly knew she could give in to this, she could accept this, and like a stiff drink when you needed one, the truth was as warm as it was disconcerting. She could give herself to the man, so long as he kept the monster at bay. She would be his pet. She’d be his to chain; his to degrade, so long as the woman inside her was also cherished and respected.
“Ride it, Molly.”
Connor’s words penetrated her hazy subconscious, his tone soft and alluring. Molly blinked into his face, trying to focus on those eyes, yet failing absolutely as the next wave of pleasure landed over her. Had he just called her Molly? What did that mean? Yet even as the abstract queries floated through her mind, she didn’t care. Not now. Now there was nothing but his hardness filling her up, stretching her, completing her, and the weight of the pleasure as it cascaded down. Down. Down, dragging her with it; taking them both into the abyss of whatever hell housed a coupling as fucked up as this one.
“Ride it,” Connor croaked as his pleasure finally peaked. “And don’t you ever, fucking stop.”
Molly threw her head back, calling out as a third surge of climax claimed her. Her mind was a mess. A hazy fog of subconscious desire meshed with days of pain, isolation and sleep-deprivation. As the pleasure took hold, it all became too much, and for a moment, she thought she might lose consciousness altogether.
Silence. Black silence.
She opened her eyes, aware that her forehead had fallen against the soft fabric at his chest, and that she was still mounted on his thick cock.
“Well, pet,” he murmured lightly. “You most certainly like to ride.”
There was a sensual tone to his voice. A light, soft sound which was almost happy.
Molly stirred, raising her eyes to look at him. “Are you pissed at me, Master?” she asked in a long, breathy tone.
That dark brow arched over huge, satisfied green eyes, making her clench the cock still lodged in her cunt. “Should I be, kitten?” his tone was low and brooding.
She shook her head slowly. “No,” Molly replied. “I hope not.”
“You need more than to just be my pet,” he told her at length. “I get that. I’m not sure how it can work, but I understand it.”
“You do?”
Molly’s tone demonstrated the genuine surprise she felt on the subject. Just a few hours before Connor had been the captor feeding her lunch from a dog bowl, and now he was whispering in her ear like an old-fashioned lover. What the fuck was this guy about? How could she ever keep up with a constant head-fuck like this?
“Sure.” Connor’s face drew into a small smirk as he replied. “I mean, there was always something about the woman that caught my attention, and then there was the writer of course… I fell for those aspects of you long before I had you naked and leashed in my house, Molly.”
She was smiling in response, completely unable to
hide the way his words had affected her. “That almost sounds normal,” she chuckled in answer to him.
“Hmmm, yes well,” he began, drawing the long strands of hair from her face. “I gave up on normal a long time ago, kitten.”
Molly could tell he was trying to make a joke, yet there was something in his voice which resonated. He meant it. She knew that on some level he truly meant it, and as she stared into that handsome face, she wondered what the hell had happened to this man.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Time shifted. Days morphed into night and back again, the hours either bleeding light or the encompassing blackness. On some level it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Connor’s world had become the four walls of his redbrick house. The small detached property he’d bought all those years ago before Lydia. At that point of course, he hadn’t purchased it with abduction in mind. It had been his solace, a sanctuary of his own to run home to when the outside world came crashing down. When the pressure of The Syndicate became too much; when he needed to be free. Later that had changed though. Connor had brought Lydia here, leaving his powerful group of allies and cementing his own, personal power dynamic in these very rooms. The basement had been adapted for her, the suspension points on the wall, and the mounted D-rings all a testament to the masochist she was.
Was…
Connor’s eyes flickered open to find pale light flooding his bedroom. Pale light, so that meant it was either very early morning or possibly late evening. It was impossible to tell at this time of the year. He glanced left to find Molly asleep on his shoulder. His gaze followed the links of the silver chunky chain which ran from the leather at her neck to the post of his bed, and his cock hardened at the sight. Shifting his right hand from its place under his pillow he fisted his cock urgently.
Tamed: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 2) Page 14
