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I force myself to walk over that soft, white carpet, pushing every thought but the search for Charlotte from my mind. There’ll be time enough for other shit later.
To my left is a door standing ajar, a warm glow spilling into the hallway from inside. At the end of the hall, a tiny sliver of pink light shines beneath what must be the master bedroom. Strange…I didn’t see a pink light shining through any of the windows when I was outside in the snow with Arrow. But there could be block-out curtains or shutters over those windows. Instinct tells me that room is important, but I need to make sure I won’t be surprised. As soon as I’ve checked the other rooms I can move down the hall to the master bedroom.
Before I’ve even touched the door to push it open the rest of the way, vanilla hits my nose. A bathroom, air long since cooled, but its closed window trapped the smell of shampoo and lotion inside.
I step deeper inside, checking behind the door to make sure the room is empty. Doing a quick scan for the smallest thing that can offer me a clue to Charlotte’s whereabouts.
That’s when I see the hypodermic needle in the waste basket, tossed out on top of what appears to be coils of damp, black hair.
Blood drains from my face.
“Fuck.”
I don’t know why there’s hair in the trash, but I know why there’s a needle. And I know what happened after Red administered what was inside that syringe to Charlotte…or the deceased girl propped up on the kitchen table. My heart leaps in my chest, my mind already unpacking what I’ll discover in the master bedroom.
Preparing myself.
“Fuck is right,” a smooth, deep voice says behind me.
Pain explodes in the back of my skull, so intense my entire body goes rigid. I hear a sadistic chuckle before the light of the world flickers out and I’m hurtling into a black, bottomless abyss.
12
CHARLOTTE
How could I ever have thought that this man was evil? He’s combing out my hair so gently that each stroke sends goosebumps down my arms and legs. I’m still naked from the shower, my hair damp. I should be cold, but there’s warmth behind where I’m sitting perched on the edge of a large, white four-poster bed. It’s almost Victorian with its lace curtains and cream comforter embroidered with fleur-de-lis.
Red stands in front of me, his knees between my thighs, an erection tightly trapped behind his slacks as he combs out my hair one slow stroke at a time.
Weight shifts behind me, and that’s when I realize why I’m not cold. There’s someone at my back, their body heat cascading over me. As soon as I become aware of them, I turn to see who it is. My heart shudders at the sight of a naked man wearing a pig mask, his skin almost as pink as the paint on the rubber headgear. He’s kneeling behind me, stroking his cock less than a foot away from my back, his movements slow and steady, like he’s pacing himself.
For what?
Fingers grasp my chin, turning my head back to face Red’s crotch. Strange that he’s still dressed, but I couldn’t care less to try and figure out why.
“Can I have more medicine?” My voice sounds as weak and pathetic as I feel, but I don’t have to be psychic to figure out what’s about to happen. I’m still too doped up to even attempt running, but not nearly doped up enough for what’s next.
Pig-Man laughs. Red sets the comb down on the bed beside me, tipping my head up so I’m staring into his eyes.
“Spoiled little dolly,” he chastises in a soft voice.
I barely see his arm moving before he backhands me so hard that I’m thrown from the bed. I grunt when I hit the floor, but I’m not allowed a second to get my feet under me before Red’s cruel grip is around my arms, hauling me up.
He tosses me on the bed like I weigh nothing, like Iamnothing, just the rag doll he keeps calling me. He flips me onto my stomach, and wrenches my legs apart. Something cool splats onto my pussy, my head still turning in shock when Red slaps a hand over my cunt and wipes the lube all over my lips.
Pig-Man lets out a groan, his weight moving over the bed until he’s between my legs. My hands claw at the embroidered comforter, but my body refuses to obey me when I try to pull away. Instead, all I can do is hold on as Pig-Man grabs my hips and drags them up into the air, positioning my ass and pussy so I’m perfectly splayed open.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my mind dipping beneath the dark waves of consciousness, into another daydream.
Fyre stalks up to me, his coat flaring to reveal the nakedness beneath. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, his cock jutting out between the two halves of that thick, black fabric like it’s hunting me. I back up, sitting down in a rush when my knees connect with something hard.
A bed. I open my mouth to cry out, but the sound is trapped when Fyre wraps his hands around my throat, squeezing. He lifts me up, using that grip to push me down onto the bed. He’s between my thighs, one hand still on my throat, the other throttling his cock.
“Spoiled little girl,” he says, those filthy words sending a surge of heat through me. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?”
He slaps his cock down onto my pussy, and my back arches at the contact. “I’m your girl,” I murmur, pushing my legs open wider to accommodate his body.
He ducks his hips, presses his cock to my entrance, and ruts into me like a wild beast. I cry out in pain—in pleasure—as his length fills me, stretches me, pins me.
