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He just stared at me.
“You could – come and see me, later, when my parents are asleep,” I offered.
He remained silent, until my blood rushed to my face, embarrassing me. “Whatever. Come, don’t come, it’s up to you.”
With that, I turned on my heel and scurried toward my room.
* * *
I dreamed of him again. His dark shape filling the doorway and then sliding into my bed. He was naked, and his hot skin scorched mine.
Since we’d been together, my dreams had taken on such a feeling of reality, it didn’t dawn on me that it wasn’t just in my head until his hand closed over my throat.
I tried to sit up, the dream falling away, but that palm kept me pinned to the mattress.
Cayden tutted in my ear. “Where do you think you’re going? You invited me, remember?”
I moaned as his weight settled on me. He’d tugged my shorts down while I was sleeping. I was wet. I didn’t know if it was from the dream or if he’d already been touching me. Whichever it was, I was more than ready for him to be inside me. My skin was burning up, sizzling in every place he touched. He was so strong, his body kept me immobile as he lined himself up and sank inside me, his hand still gripping my throat. It hurt. The stretch was immense, and I whimpered. He captured my mouth in a kiss, stealing the sound.
He pushed inside me, not stopping until he was deep. My muscles spasmed around him, trying to force out his invasion for a moment before going slack. He rested there, sheathed to the hilt, his head lying on the pillow beside mine. I should have felt crushed by him, it should have been scary, but it wasn’t. I liked it. It was every dark fantasy I’d ever had come to life. No choices, no escape, just the man I cared about, taking everything he wanted from me. I wasn’t a bad daughter or a slutty puck bunny. I wasn’t any of the things my mother worried I would become. I simply had no choice.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him to me, lifting my hips to squeeze him more as the pain faded. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he moved.
He slid out of me in a long, fluid draw, and then plunged back in. I gasped, and his free hand clamped down over my mouth.
“Not a fucking sound, unless you want your dad to walk in here and see you getting fucked,” he warned quietly in my ear.
I protested against his hand, but he didn’t remove it. Of course he didn’t. He’d read my journal after all; he knew just how much I liked to imagine his rough touch. He fucked me hard, keeping me pinned by the throat the entire time. He stared down at me in the dark when I came, pushed over the edge far too quickly by his touch. He pressed my throat tighter, restricting my breathing. Stars exploded before my eyes, and I clamped down hard on him. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I fell endlessly through pleasure, not trying to push him off or move his hand even once. I felt him watching me, even as my face turned hot and my lungs burned. When he finally let go, I gasped for air, filling my shocked body with much-needed oxygen. The whole thing had only made me come even harder.
“How can you let me do that? How can you trust me after what you’ve done?” His deep voice seemed to be coming from far away.
In that floating place where he’d sent me, I couldn’t make sense of his quiet words. He was still hard inside me, and I rotated my hips against him, tugging him back toward me. He resisted, keeping his distance, even while his cock was still buried deep.
“I guess I just trust you not to hurt me, no matter what,” I murmured, stroking my fingers down his bare arms and over his back.
When I touched the scar tissue, he tensed. With a grunt, he pulled out, and the sudden loss was jarring.
I tried to sit up, confused why he hadn’t kept going. He hadn’t come yet. He yanked me back down and pushed me to my front. My breath left me again as he parted my legs roughly and draped himself over my back, his cock sliding right back inside me from behind. His hand clamped down over my mouth again, smothering my cry as he penetrated me from a different angle. This one was so much deeper.
“I’m not done with you yet, Lillian,” he murmured in my ear before sitting up.
His weight left my back as he straddled my thighs and fucked me prone. Grabbing an old bunny toy that was near my pillow, a sentimental remnant of childhood, he stuffed it into my mouth, gagging me with the well-loved plush.
“Now it’s my turn to take whatever I fucking want from you,” he muttered and caught my wrists with a huge hand, holding them at the small of my back while his other hand seized a handful of my hair and tilted my head back.
The position made me arch my back to keep my hair from pulling too tight, and he only slid deeper. I moaned wildly against the toy in my mouth. It was nearly too much. All the points of pain warred with the pleasure building inside me.
“You love this, don’t you, Bug? You love being used like a fuck toy,” Cayden’s voice was low and harsh. His hips snapped against mine, drilling in ruthlessly deep.
Bug?I had to have heard wrong. He never called me Bug.
Yes, I do love it. I love it.Thankfully, the stuffy in my mouth stopped me from begging him out loud.
His deep voice turned me inside out.
“My fuck toy, to do whatever I want with. Do you imagine other guys fucking you like this? Asher? Beckett? Maybe both of them at once? Do you fantasize about them covering you in cum and sending you home to Daddy?”
The toy fell from my mouth as I came again. I tensed, and Cayden growled low in his throat as my pussy tightened all around him.
