My nerves were wound so tight it hurt. I wanted to run away, and I never ran from anything. But where did you go when there was nowhere to hide? Staring at the flat ceiling, I wondered if I'd ever get away on my own. Less than three hours ago I swore I didn't care about the whys that surrounded my situation. Now they assaulted my mind with brute force.
This wasn't about my father killing Jackson, but it was about my dad. Pierce may not have said as much, but it was crystal clear. As per usual, I was the one paying for something someone else did. The story of my life.
All my thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind when Pierce came back into the room. The only thing covering him was a gray towel cinched around his waist. It was downright sinful to look as good as he did. His workout routine had to be painfully vigorous. I glanced away before he could make a crude comment about me staring.
He slid into bed beside me, and immediately rolled me onto my stomach.
"What are you doing?" I asked him alarmed.
"What I told you I was going to do, stay on your stomach," he reached out and pulled open his nightstand. My gut dipped when he withdrew the blindfold and two other black pieces of fabric.
"Why do you need that. I didn't do–."
"Shhh," he blew in my ear, wrapping the blindfold around my head before tying each of my hands to his headboard. It didn't hurt, but I was completely exposed and at his mercy."
"I don't want you to touch, and I don't want you to see. I just want you to feel me." The bed dipped as he adjusted himself behind me.
"My hands," he said, beginning to massage me. He started with my shoulders, kneading my flesh with the perfect amount of pressure. It was too gentle, but then to rough. That explanation doesn't make sense, but that's all I got.
I let out a contented sigh as he moved across my back to my hips.
"How does this feel?" He asked.
"It...feels nice," I admitted.
"Good, now I'm going to use my mouth." He slid his hands down my body, lifting my chemise up before moving lower. His soft lips trailed slowly up the back of my legs, over the naked globes of my ass, and across my back to my shoulders.
My skin was on fire, I fought to keep my breathing under control. But then he started to use his tongue. He repeated the same motions he had just done but this time much slower. Trailing his tongue up each one of my legs in a gentle circular motion.
"How did that feel?" He asked again, now sliding my G-string off.
"...Better?" I didn't know how to answer him, all I knew was I wanted him to do it again. Pierce chuckled, splaying his palms on my ass cheeks and grabbing each one in a firm grip.
I felt his warm breath on my core right before his tongue started to tease my lips. He swiped it up and down, flicking my clit with the tip before repeating the process. I was about to lose my mind.
"Now?" His tongue was pushing inside me before I could answer. With my hands bound I had no choice but to let him do what he wanted.
He ate my pussy from the back, his tongue was so deep inside of me I couldn't concentrate on anything but him. When he pulled away and sucked my clit into his mouth, I thought I would combust.
"Tell me what it feels like, let me know how good you feel. Let me hear you, Rebel." I think those words were my undoing.
"Good...so good," I half whispered, half moaned. My orgasm would come close, and then he'd push it away. He played with me like a kitten does a ball of yarn, slowly unraveling me and then pouncing.
"Good," was the last thing he said before he pulled my little nub between his teeth and bit down. It fucking hurt, it also felt fucking amazing. Like I'd just taken a drug that heightened every one of my senses.
Pierce said he wanted to hear me. The fucking people on the moon probably heard me. I know Jesus heard me because my soul left my body and he had to send it back. If he hadn't been holding me up, I would have collapsed.
I didn't have time to catch me breath before he was pushing inside of me, taking control of me. Every thrust seemed harder than the last. My hands hurt I was holding onto the bedframe so tight.
"Pierce, I can't stay."
"Then get down," he forced my shoulders down, moved his hands to my hips and dug in, my breasts smashed into his mattress while my ass stayed in the air.
My arms remained stretched out above me. It burned so badly I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry or come. So I did both.
"I love seeing you like this," Pierce groaned, wrapping a hand around my throat while still holding my body up with the other. I felt pain from so many different directions I didn't understand how this all felt so good. My arms ached like my shoulders were going to pop, his cock was stretching me, filling me. Pierce had his hand around my throat, fucking me and threatening to suffocate me at the same time.
It hurt so good that I didn't ever want him to stop. The pain was pleasure, and his pleasure was pain. The only thing I was able to say was his name. Pierce was a priest performing an exorcism. Except the only thing being exorcised was my fight to stop him from having control over my body.
Our bodies were both covered in sweat, it rolled off of us and soaked the sheets. His hand kept slipping, losing its grip.
"Fuck Willow," he let go of my hip, letting me collapse and grabbing a handful of my hair instead. I came again as he drove into me. So out of breath and so exhausted that I couldn't even scream. The pleasure washed over my body like a silent wave, causing my toes to curl.
Pierce thrust one last time, and I felt him throb inside of me. I lay limply on the bed, feeling like an asthma patient, trying to drag air into my lungs and get my racing heart to slow down.
My hands were untied, I moaned, letting them drop down. Pierce removed my blindfold and brushed my ratted hair out of my face before kissing away the stray tears still making their way down my cheeks. This was going to be pure hell when I woke up in the morning.
"Perfect," he murmured, kissing me deeply.
"Mmm," I managed to grunt against his soft lips. "I'll be right back," he gently laid me down and climbed off the bed. I started to delariously laugh at the sight of his perfect toned ass, that's what started all of this. Ass. He came back when I was half asleep and lifted me into his arms.
"I'm tired, and everything hurts. Go away," I groaned into his chest. All that got me was a chortle. I'm glad he carried me because there was no way the jello attached to my body was going to turn back into legs. He carried me into the bathroom, over to his large jetted tub, and walked in. I found myself settled against his chest, warm water covered me up to the bottom of my breasts.
Pierce's touch was gentle, he took his time washing every inch of my body. Massaging every part that hurt. I was way to tired to process what was happening. Too tired to stop myself from feeling a little bit wanted. I wonder if someone had loved me right, just once. If I would have been stronger and known better than to feel cherished when it came to someone loving me in all the wrong ways.
Pierce held me in his arms all night, a cocoon of warmth and something akin to safety. I don't think I could hate him more than I did at that moment. I always wondered how a chick could fall in love with a man who wanted to dominate and control them.
Though, what I felt for Pierce wasn't love. Was it? How could I really decipher if I loved him or not when I had no idea what love was? When he pulled my hair and dug his fingers into my hips, causing me pain but giving me pleasure, was that love?
When he used to make my whole day brighter by giving me a smile I knew was reserved only for me, was that love? Maybe this was all the silly little girl in me latching on to the first person who seemed to almost care. But, he took me away and threatened to use Abbi against me. To hurt me. If love was pain, then I didn't want it. And if I did love him and he didn't love me back, then that did have the potential to break me.
My thoughts rampaged through my head. I found myself wanting to know who the man beneath the suit was. How jaded did you have to be to cut the heart out of your father's chest? We both ha
d a past, everyone did. His was merely darker than mine.
Pierce
I ignored the man's agonized scream and closed the garden shears around his thumb. This was a mild method of gaining information. Enrique stood with his arms crossed on the other side of the warehouse, waiting for his turn.
The man in the chair threw up down the front of himself and continued to sob. He'd pissed his pants an hour ago. He was clearly going for the win in the weak bitch department.
My father used to heat forks on the stove and then press them into me and my brother's backs. If we so much as whimpered he'd knock us about and then lock us in the shed for the night. No relief from the pain, no supper, and no heat in the middle of winter. So, I really didn't understand why Caleb was crying.
"Are you ready to talk? Or would you like your pinky to be next?" I ignored his severed thumb and stood back.
"I say cut off his dick," Enrique called out. I smiled and shook my head.
"I guess it would be your dick then," rotating my neck, I began to count to three in my head.
"Alright, alright," Caleb drooled, sniffling up the snot that was leaking from his nose.
"He wants to marry her," he choked out. Marry her? I raised my brows. Seth wanted to marry his daughter? Something about that seemed to jar my memory.
The way he watched her when they were together. His small touches here and there that could be brushed off as innocent. And the way he used his men to keep any boys that were interested away from her. Maybe that wasn't him being fatherly after all.
"Seth Borgia, wants to marry his daughter?" I questioned slowly, ignoring the fact Caleb was bleeding all over the fucking place.
"Willow isn't his daughter, Please help me," Caleb begged.
His begging didn't affect me, I was processing everything he just said.
"What aren't you telling me?" This was the last chance I was giving him to spill his guts before I did, in a much different fashion. I shouldn't technically have been here doing this. There were plenty of men, and some women, far beneath me that were meant to handle shit like this. But I liked doing my own dirty work, it helped me sleep at night.
"This isn't going to bring back your precious Michelle," Caleb grinned up at me, his eyes glassy. He knew he wasn't getting out of here alive, and that was the perfect thing to say to make his demise that much quicker.
I ignored Enrique telling me to wait and dug my shears into Caleb's throat.
Chapter Fifteen
Pierce
I cut the engine and looked up at my house. I'd showered before coming home. I didn't want Willow to see me covered in blood. The smell of hot pizza filled the cabin of my car. She liked pizza, I'd seen her eat it a million times. And milkshakes, she loved some caramel peanut butter bullshit. I went out of my way to get her one. I could give her one night of normalcy, just one.
Enrique burned Caleb's body and promised to email me everything I needed by in the morning. Jax checked in, saying Abigail was just as much of a mess now as when he had first taken her. That translated into letting me know he was enjoying himself.
Sighing, I grabbed the pizza and shake and climbed out of the car. If circumstances were different, I'd be walking into the door to a willing woman and not a kidnapped one.
Willow was perfect in every way. She had the heart of a lion and the beauty of a goddess. Smart and full of life, even her smart ass dirty mouth had grown on me. It was even better wrapped around my cock.
Keying in the door code, I walked into the house. Willow's head popped up from over the couch. Her hair was down, and she wasn't wearing anything but a sleep shirt that said No Pants Are The Best Pants.
I don't think I'd ever seen anyone quite as sexy as she was without any effort. The movie Psycho was playing on the flat screen, and I couldn't help but raise my brows at her.
Willow glanced at the television and then back at me with a sly smile on her face. It melted away and was replaced by a look of confusion as she took in the pizza box and shake in my hands.
"You got pizza?" She cocked her head and stared at me.
"It's your birthday, and I know how much you like it. I also know you hate cake," I turned and kicked the door shut with my shoe. When I looked back at Rebel, her, she was staring at me as if I'd grown two heads.
"You're a really shitty kidnapper. All you give me is orgasms and food." I grinned, allowing myself to laugh at her serious expression.
"We need to eat before it gets cold," I walked away from her, purposely ignoring the new expression on her face.
Sometimes I wondered what she thought of me now. She'd never asked me why I took my father's heart, or what I did when I left the house.
I felt guilty about a lot of things in my life, but killing my dad wasn't one of them. The irony wasn't lost on me, that the heart of the man I kept in the freezer would be me if I stayed on the track I was on.
This life was Hell, a good man would have let Willow go, he wouldn't have taken her in the first place. I couldn't be that man. I wanted her even if it meant trapping her in Hell right beside me. It was an executive decision. At thirty-three, I'd made plenty of those.
I knew she wasn't Michelle, but she reminded me of her. My fiancé had been the light of my life. Losing her catapulted me even further down a path of darkness.
I sat the pizza and plates on the glass dining table. Willow followed behind me, suddenly quiet as a mouse. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. It would be so easy to force some of the answers to what I wanted to know out of her.
She claimed I didn't act like a kidnapper, well, she didn't exactly act like a kidnapped girl. Fuck, she didn't act like anyone her age did.
"Pierce?" Her small hand touched my back, concern evident in her soft voice. I could smell the lavender body wash she used on her skin, the peach shampoo she used in her hair. When her hand went from my back to my arm, something in me snapped.
Shoving the plates to the floor, I spun and grabbed hold of her arms, she gasped, clearly surprised. I sat her on the edge of the table and caged her in on either side. She stared up at me, her chocolate eyes wide, her perfect pink lips slightly parted.
She was supposed to have a bullet in her head. I was going to snap her neck. I wanted to cut her heart out and send it to her father with a pretty little bow around it. She wasn't supposed to get under my skin like infectious cancer and bleed into my thoughts.
"Why aren't you fighting me anymore? Why are you so calm?" I kept my voice level, but even I could hear the harshness in it. Half of me wanted to spill my fucking guts, tell her everything I'd ever done and everything I was about to put her through. Killing my father was just the tip of the iceberg. If she truly knew the man I was she wouldn't look at me the way she did, and for once, I was a coward because I refused to tell her. One day I would, but not today.
"I don't want to fight you. Is that what you want? Me to fight you?" She looked at me questioningly. If I said yes, I knew she would.
"Why?" Of all the things running through my head, that's the only question I could ask her.
"I like you, I've always liked you. And I know you're a bit different, but so am I. You don't think I'm weird, and that makes me happy." Her honest words tumbled from her mouth and caught me off guard. Why would I believe you were weird?
"I choked you to get you here, Willow, I-." Pausing to get myself under control, I ran a hand down my face. She cast her gaze downward, suddenly unable to look me in the eyes.
"I liked it," she mumbled into her chest. My dick turned to a slab, and my balls bluer than my eyes
"I want to hurt you, Willow. Make you cry, and hear you beg."
"So do it." She lifted her head and challenged me.
Chapter Sixteen
Willow
My emotions were spiraling out of control. Pierce just had to walk in the house with a pizza and mention my birthday. I had no idea why I was there, or what Seth had to do with it, and I couldn't think straight enough to figure it out. But I knew this w
as about him.
And I had nothing to bargain with to save my father from what I knew would be a painful death. Except myself, I had myself. As soon as the words "Do it," left my mouth. Pierce's mouth hit mine hard, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands went to my thighs.
My mouth opened for him, happily letting his tongue inside to meet my own. All too soon he broke away from me. He pulled me, so my ass was right on the edge of his table, and bent down.
"I should have done this the first night you were here," he murmured, kissing up my bare leg to my right thigh. Slowly, he began to trace over my scars with the tip of his tongue. Moving closer and closer to my pussy.
I groaned, taking hold of his shoulders, spreading my sore legs even more for him.
My body was my own worst enemy, it came alive for him with the first stroke of his tongue. His lips ghosted over my thong, his warm breath on my center, and then his mouth was moving up my other leg. Doing a repeat of what he just did.
His tongue was like a paintbrush, my scars were the canvas. He followed the ugly rugged pattern imprinted on my skin with slow, smooth strokes. But this time, he moved his lips to the outside of my thigh. Taking hold of my thong with his teeth, he began to take it off. Dragging it down without lifting a finger.
"Take your shirt off," he instructed me, removing his own clothes. I quickly shoved my shirt over my head and sat watching him, naked. I drank in the masterpiece that emerged from beneath his fashionable attire. His body was mouth watering. The muscles, his abs, even the fucking crimson dragon tattoo on his back.
"No," I stopped him from going back to his knees once he was all the way nude. Fuck foreplay, I wanted him inside of me. I tried to pull him toward me, but he just pushed my hands away.
"Not yet, Rebel, I wanna play," he moved down and put his mouth where it always seemed to be, pushing two fingers into me at the same time. He took his time, driving me insane with need.
"Pierce...please," I begged, pulling on his hair.
Sordid Seduction (Sordid Trilogy #1) Page 7
