Page 25 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

“Just be still and quiet, little Sadie. Be good, like you’ve been taught. They spent a lot of years forcing you to obey, didn’t they?”

My mind responds with a yes. But there is no hope of speech. It’s like my mind and my body are two separate entities.

Then… who was forcing me to obey? I don’t know that’s true even though the yes formed in my mind automatically.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says. “Not if you’re good.”

How does one be good?

“But if you cross me I’ll have to react. You understand, right?”

I understand nothing.

“Say yes, Sadie.” A hand pets my hair. I realize I’m wet with sweat when he leans in and his soft breath creates a coolness across my neck.

I can’t even open my mouth, but a stinging slap across my face makes me try.

“Whoaaaaaaa…” leaks out from between my lips.

“Don’t worry. I’m not unreasonable. I know you can’t properly talk just yet. So I won’t require much speech from you. Believe me”—he laughs—“I’m not interested in you for your intellectual prowess.”

Then what? I ask myself. What does this man want? Who is he?

Thomas, you idiot. My brain is catching up with the situation. My body is heavy and my senses are dull. But it’s beginning to wear off. This man is Thomas Brooks. The one who… well, I’m still not sure what happened back at that hospital. But he was the one responsible for it.

“You like me, don’t you?” he whispers against the heat of my neck.

I like the coolness he brings to my skin. But that’s about all I’m capable of understanding at the moment.

“You want me, don’t you?”

I want to know what the fuck is happening to me. I arch my back, just barely lifting off the table, since my muscles are so uncoordinated.

“Don’t fight,” he warns. And now his mouth is right over mine. His lips brush along my cheek. He smells like the woods.

What?

His hand rests on my hip. Just enough pressure for me to understand he’s there. He’s touching me. And then a kiss. A soft flutter of lips on my lips. His mouth pressing against mine. His tongue… then his hand leaves my hip and slides right between my legs.

I have no clothes on, I realize. The same scratchy rope is burning my ankles. My legs are tied open.

My back arches again when his fingers find what they’re looking for.

“What did I just say?” he whispers into my mouth. “Don’t fight it. You won’t be able to stop me and you’ll make everything harder.”

His finger is inside me. Probing, pushing. And I realize, with much horror, that I’m slick down there. I’m responding to him.

“See how nice that is, Sadie?” He’s still kissing me. His finger is pressing inside me. In and out. A soft—very soft—slow—very slow—in and out. With each stroke the friction decreases as I become wet.

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say. And this time the word is very clear.

“They always do,” he growls against my mouth.

They? What the fuck are you doing, Sadie Scott? You’re letting a man touch you! “Stop,” I say, just as clear as the yes.

“No,” he insists, back to kissing my mouth. “You already gave me permission.”