“I don’t -” Just as she started to answer he reached forward to trace his touch across her breast and pleasure overwhelmed her like a riptide pulling her under. She groaned, whimpering as her body tried to flinch away and move closer at the same time. He didn’t stop. He cupped her breast and rolled her nipple gently, but her body shivered like she was approaching an orgasm. That same shaky tension, the toe curling sensations that made her pussy clench. It wasn’t until he grabbed her hand to stop her that she realized she’d been moving her fingers towards her clit. His blue-gray eyes were locked on hers as he held her wrist and returned to gently teasing her nipple. But nothing about the way her body was reacting was gentle. It was impossible. She pushed her chest forward against his hand, biting her lip as she sought just a little more. The edge of this golden fog in her head had to be close, she could feel it in the buzzing tension of her nerves. If she could only touch herself, just a little, she’d fall over. “Please...” she whimpered as she tugged against his grip on her wrist.
“What is it?” Marcus’ lips were parted, and he was hard. She could see his erection straining the front of his pants. He leaned closer to her, making sure he had eye contact with her, his gaze watching her closely. Instead of fading, that golden buzzing in her head grew stronger. She just needed contact, she needed to push through the other side of this so it would all stop. The heat, the buzz, the itchy shivers that were focusing between her thighs to make her clit pound and drive her crazy. He was teasing the fog, intensifying it.
She knew how to make him stop teasing her.
He had her right hand trapped in his, but she grabbed the back of his head with the other and pulled him into a kiss. The heat doubled as he groaned against her mouth, his hands moving to cup her face and she returned the favor. Holding him in place as she climbed onto his lap, rocking herself against the front of his pants. She rolled her hips, grinding down against his erection until his fingers were digging into her waist, trying to pull her against him harder or lift her away – she couldn’t tell. All that mattered was the driving pulse inside her, his lips against hers, his tongue delving in to push her for more. His fist tightened in her hair, and what normally just turned her on felt like electric light cascading down her spine in ribbons. He pulled her back from his lips, and she groaned and rolled her hips against his. Her clit seeking just a little more friction.
“Jesus, Thalia...” His eyes slid down her body, and she leaned back bracing her hands on the floor behind her so she could roll her hips against his. He licked his lips, and she moaned, her panting breaths growing shorter. Marcus slid his hand between her breasts, down her stomach, and began to slowly circle her clit with his thumb. It was what she needed. She needed to come. The buzzing was starting to hurt, the electric shock closer to her skin. It had to stop.
The orgasm hit her when he started to rub her in tight circles, but the golden haze in her head didn’t fade at all. The sparkling crash of pleasure fed into it. It made her body hungry for more and she let out a frustrated scream when the aftershocks of the orgasm did nothing more than make her body tighten in need. “Please, please, make it stop!”
“Do you want to come again?” Marcus was breathing heavily, and he leaned forward to pull her up against his chest. Thalia spread her legs further, trying to increase the contact, but the fabric of his pants wasn’t enough.
“I don’t know! Just please make it stop...” She tugged at the button of his pants, the heat inside her wasn’t going away. Marcus pushed her off his lap gently and undid his belt, pushing his pants out of the way. He was hard, his cock dark at the tip, and when he reached for her again she climbed onto his lap with urgency.
This. She needed this. It would make it stop.
He shifted her and then pulled her down on him, and she screamed, “Yes! Please. Please!” As he filled her it was a lightning storm inside her skin, and she wrapped her arms around his neck trying to hold herself together. His arms wrapped around her back and she rocked against him, his strength keeping her ribs from breaking apart with each breath she drew into the storm. Pushing the golden haze in her mind higher, letting the tingling buzz take her over, she rose and fell on top of him, driving him deeper. Her fingers wound in his hair, gripping tight to hold him, and he didn’t fight her. Instead he dropped his hands to her hips and thrust hard inside her, and all of the power in her veins responded with a chorus of pleasure that had her moaning.
“Fuck. Yes. Just like that.” He growled against her shoulder as she bounced on him, so close to another sparkling edge that she could feel it cutting through the haze like a knife. Just one more. One more and she’d be clear, and it would stop, it would all stop.
She shattered. Screaming with the orgasm, her hands tight in his hair. He groaned when she tightened around him in waves, and then he was kissing her. Rolling her to her back on the concrete, and driving inside her again. She was held together by light. Electric arcs spanning her cells to keep her together, and each crash over the edge only landed her in the same place again and again. An infinite loop of spine snapping pleasure and aching urgency to find the next edge, to fall over, to find the end.
But it was an endless sky. A massive, gold, electrical storm that she had somehow been wrapped in. Gravity had let her go. Physics had released her.
There was only light.
Just light.
Chapter Fifteen
Yes.
Just light, so much light – until there wasn’t.
Crashing back to earth had been waking up to an aching body, covered in bruises. It had been waking up to darkness, and pain, and a vicious nausea. The worst hangover she’d ever felt in her entire life. Everything hurt as she shoved herself off of the bed and crawled, shaking, to a corner to throw up. Except, nothing came up but bile. She had no food to reject, but her body wouldn’t listen to that. It wanted her to keep trying. Dry heaving as memories ran her down like dogs on the hunt.
She had fucked Marcus. She had climbed on top of him, begged for him. He had done something to her. She choked on a sob as her body tried to empty her already vacant stomach again.
The water. The fucking bottle of water.
Thalia screamed into her hand, muffling it as best as she could, bent over her knees to stifle the sobs that threatened to crack her ribs.
No. There was no way she could have done that. Nothing could make her – but she had. She pushed herself back against the wall and slammed her head back into the concrete. It hurt, but not enough. Not enough to atone for this.
She had begged him. She’d held him to her.
Thalia slammed her head back into the wall again, the aftershock making her dizzy as the ache spread across the back of her skull and into her teeth. Panic. She was having a panic attack. That strange wheezing sound was coming from her lungs. The shrinking feeling in the room was claustrophobia.
Ailsa would have so many fancy terms for this shit if only she were fucking here. But no one was here. No one was going to stop this. No one knew where she was, and she hadn’t heard a peep from Katherine in so long.
Katherine was probably dead.
Her brain wasn’t even working right anymore, and she had kissed him. She had kissed Marcus. And not out of fear, or obligation, she had reached for him. She had given herself to him. The pain of that realization tore out the last of her hope. Because why would she want to be saved? How could she ever look at James again? She’d gotten his sister killed. She’d submitted to Marcus, and then she’d given herself to him like a gift-wrapped whore.
There had been so much light. She’d been filled with it. And now there was nothing. All of that fake, glittering glory had been emptied out and all that was left was the shell of who she was now. And she wasn’t worth anything.
She stumbled back to the bed and dropped to the floor next to it, leaning her head on the mattress, her hand tracing the metal edge. Reaching underneath she felt the rest of the frame, the metal underneath. Cold washed up out of the emptiness inside
her and she stood and dragged the thin mattress off. Underneath was a metal lattice, cheap and rusted. It had to be why it always creaked. Why it creaked whenever she moved, whenever he was on top of her. Bile came up her throat again, but she pushed it down. There were so many perfect little squares – and one rectangle. A broken part in the metal.
Thalia leaned over it and saw the thin piece of metal leading back to where it connected to the frame. She pushed at it and it moved a bit. Climbing onto the metal lattice she reveled in the way it dug into her knees, the pain joining all the other aches inside her to fill the emptiness. Wrapping her hand around the thin metal she pulled and pushed at it, worrying the weak edge against the frame. She tried to be quiet, tried not to make the bed creak any louder.
Tink. Tink. Tink. Snap.
The thin stripe of metal broke free and it was in her hand. One end had orange rust, the other end was still a dark brown. Easing off the lattice she sat on the edge of the mattress on the floor and traced the sharp edge across her fingertip. She toyed with it, pressing it into the pad of her thumb over and over. Then her eyes tracked to the fragile blue veins just under the thin skin of her wrist.
If you were serious it was vertical, right?
A scene from the movie ‘The Craft’ floated through her mind. She’d loved that movie when she was younger. There was a scene where one of the characters commented on another’s suicide attempt. You’re supposed to cut vertical instead of across if you’re serious. And she was serious, right?
Thalia’s hand was frozen, the point of the metal pressing into her wrist. How much pressure would it take? What if James was coming? What if he hated her for what she’d done? What if he never came and it was only Marcus? Only Marcus forever.
No one else. Just Marcus. No food without Marcus. No water without Marcus.
And sometimes the water would be filled with golden light that would burn her from the inside out until she begged and pleaded for him. And then the light would leave her and she would be like this.
He could do this over and over and over. It would break her.
She took a breath and dug the metal in and pulled towards her. Pain seared her and a scream escaped through gritted teeth. When she looked down there was blood, but not enough blood. Barely any. She’d survive that. She brought it back to the top, took a breath, and pressed harder. The pain was worse the second time, but she felt warmth trickling over her palm and onto her thigh. When she opened her eyes again there was more blood.
The sight of it, so vibrant, an unreal kind of red, made her feel light headed. She went with it, letting go of any of that fight or flight bullshit. It hadn’t done her any good any way.
A minute later the door opened and she felt the edge of her mouth tick up in a smile as Marcus stepped in. His hair a mess of bedhead, his face confused when he first looked at the bed, and then he saw her on the floor. Saw the blood. It was like watching him in slow motion as he lunged for her, bending her hand back to yank the metal out of it, and then he clamped his hand over her wrist. She tried to fight him, tried to reach for the metal piece, to do more damage so he’d have to let her go. “What the fuck have you done? What the FUCK did you DO, Thalia?!”
He shook her and she tried to twist away from him, the pressure on her wrist hurt so much. “Stop. Just stop. I’m empty. Just let me go.” She mumbled but he wasn’t listening. He was panicked, muttering to himself as he lifted his hand and then pressed it even harder against her wrist. There was already so much red, that had to be a good sign. He couldn’t take her to a hospital. No way to add more red back inside her.
“THALIA!” He shouted directly in her face and she winced. “Why, Thalia, why would you do this?!”
“I betrayed him.” She muttered as an odd buzzing filled her ears.
“You... – James? You did THIS over HIM?!” He screamed at her, but she just looked at him. There was nothing left inside her. He took his belt off and for a second she almost laughed. He was going to beat her for trying to kill herself? For mentioning James?
Sure, why not?
But instead of hitting her he coiled it at the top of her left arm and cinched it tight. He was saying something to her, but she shook her head and leaned back on the wall. He screamed as he stood above her, the knee of his pants was wet with her blood and she stared at it. A second later he rushed out of the room, and she was glad he was gone. She reached for the belt on her left arm and clumsily undid it. When she lifted her left hand she watched as the red created new trails across her pale skin. When he came back he was screaming again.
“The tourniquet has to stay on! Dammit, Thalia!” He grabbed the belt and cinched it even tighter on her arm, it hurt and she tried to push him off but it didn’t even faze him. Reaching for her wrist again he cracked open a bottle of water and poured it over the wound. She screamed weakly but tried to remind herself it didn’t matter. Then he was patting it dry and mumbling to himself, “...it’s going to be okay, she’s okay, just a lot of blood... not deep...” She winced when she felt him pushing on her skin, the jagged edges of the cut pressed together, and he jerked her forward so he could brace her arm on his leg. She tried to pull back but she was light headed and weak. He did something that made the cut sting and then blew on her skin, holding her arm firmly so she wasn’t able to move. She couldn’t see anymore with his shoulder in the way, and she wasn’t going to lean against him to look.
She’d never have to touch him again. All the empty darkness would swallow her up. She was taking his toy from him. It made her let out a little laugh, and he growled. Then she realized he was wrapping gauze around her wrist.
“Why the fuck are you laughing, Thalia?”
“Cause I’m leaving.” She let out another little laugh, and he overlaid the gauze with duct tape to hold it in place.
“I’m not going to let you do that.” He turned to her, but she saw spots in her vision. “Thalia, you have to stay awake! Fuck!”
He sounded far away and she felt her body slide sideways, black encroaching on the edges of her vision. Then she felt a thud on her thigh and she winced. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and instead of sinking further into the dark, she was rising, waking up. The fuzzy feeling fading. Marcus was shaking her shoulders and she shoved at him with her unbandaged arm. “Let me go! Just let me die!” She screamed it and then realized she could scream, and she screamed again in frustration.
“NO! I can’t believe you did this!” He shook her shoulders again and she tried to push back from him.
“What did you do?!” She was crying. She was supposed to be dead. She was supposed to be gone. “I was dying! How did you -”
“God dammit, Thalia! Stop! I sealed the wound! You didn’t get the vein. And when your blood pressure dropped and you started to pass out, I used the EpiPen from the first aid kit. I told you, I’m not letting you go. Now you need to rest while I clean up your fucking mess.” He growled at her, his hands were streaked with her blood. She was too, and the sheet, and the floor. How could there be so much outside of her? How could it not be enough? She started to cry again, hot tears running down her cheeks until she saw the metal piece under the frame of the bed and she lunged for it. He grabbed her before she even got close to it and slammed her back onto the mattress. “WHAT THE FUCK, THALIA!”
“I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!” She screamed right back at him, her voice cracking halfway through from the strain of it.
“So you want to kill yourself?!” He stared down at her in disbelief, and she spit at him. His anger washed over his face, but he regained control and she kicked and fought as he flipped her to her stomach and dragged her hands behind her back. Grabbing the duct tape again he bound her wrists together, overlaying the tape already covering her gauze. Then he pinned her legs and did the same to her ankles, muttering and cursing as he did it. With her immobilized on the mattress he walked back out of the room and she screamed in frustration.
He came back with tools and started taking the bed a
part, ignoring her as she cried and cursed at him, screaming that she hated him, that she wanted to die. Whatever she could think of, but he worked with a single-minded focus, throwing dismantled pieces of the bed out the door before returning to keep working. The small piece of metal that had almost been her salvation was tossed out too. Then he came back with a bucket and water. The blood, the corner where she’d been sick, all washed away.
The last time he came back with a granola bar and he sat on the side of the mattress not caked in drying blood. He opened it in front of her and broke off a piece, holding it in front of her lips. “Eat.”
“Fuck you.” She turned her head away from him, but he grabbed her hair and turned her back.
“Eat, Thalia.” The anger was simmering beneath the surface but he was making himself be calm.
Salvaged by Love (Thalia Book 3) (The Thalia Series) Page 21
