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My lips tremble as I murmur, “S-so much.”
Red releases my throat, staring at me as his fingers fuck me with powerful thrusts. He leans to the side, opening the nightstand drawer, and draws out a syringe.
“Hold out your arm.”
His fingers make wet slapping sounds as he fingers me. I spread my legs, offering him my arm at the same time. My eyes flutter with pleasure as he uses his teeth to take the cap off the syringe, baring the needle.
“Pick up the belt.”
My hand shakes as I grab it. I stare at it, my entire body still trembling from the onslaught that simple object wrecked me with.
Slash it across his face. Blind him. Wrap it around his throat and pull it tight, throttling him until his face turns purple.
I can’t, Fyre. I’m not strong enough. My muscles feel like water, my brain like baby food.
“You know what to do, little dolly.”
And somehow, he’s right. I slip the tongue through the buckle, and then slide that loop over my arm, up to my bicep I tug it tight, holding it in place until my arm starts to tingle. Veins pop out under my skin, a dark, desperate blue.
He slides his fingers out of my pussy, and drags them over my lips. “Lick.”
I do as he commands, my eyes glued to the needle as he brings it closer to my thrumming vein.
“Tell me you love me, dolly.”
My eyes swivel to his, my body going numb when our gazes lock. Something heavy settles on my chest, and I immediately know what it is.
Despair.
Memories trickle back like rivulets of blood from a slit wrist.
I would never have left Peter if he kept giving me my medicine. I begged him for it, sucked his dick for it, let him fuck me in the ass for it. I let him do whatever he wanted, because I’d never felt anything as fucking glorious as the ambrosia contained in that plastic syringe.
If he hadn’t stopped, allowing me to sober up, I’d be dead.
My hand shakes, but I don’t release the belt.
If Fyre knows where I am, he’d be here already. He hasn’t found me. He might never. Which means I’m all on my own in this maniac’s hellhole.
And if that’s the case, then I’m sure as fuck not going through this sober.
“I love you,” I murmur.
Red’s lips curl into a smile. “I know you do, dolly.” He reaches out and touches a lock of my hair, wrapping it around his finger, staring at it as if mesmerized. “You and I? We’re going to be together forever.”
13
CHARLOTTE
Red’s warm fingers grip me tight as he leads me downstairs by the hand. I follow in a dreamy sway, watching my toes sink into the plush carpet, then my bare feet slap against the marble floor. I briefly glance up, staring through the beautiful glass walls facing the frozen lake in the distance.
I dreamt about Fyre again. We made love on the hearth at his log cabin, flames roaring behind us. It was sweet, and precious, and stretched for an eternity. I could feel his love with every thrust, with every tingle and ache and clenching of my pussy as he drove into me again, and again. As he forced his cock into my mouth, stretching my lips around his unforgiving girth. As he filled my ass and my pussy at the same time. As he told me how much he loved me, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, that he was finally whole.
I wish he was here. Red said something about making dinner, and I’d have loved for him to join us.
The crisp, clean scent of bleach hits my nose when Red leads me into the kitchen. It’s a beautiful space, tidy and neat and like something out of a magazine. Or a show house. That point is driven home when I realize all the plants are fake. That the bowl of fruit is plastic.
Red leads me to the kitchen island, pulling out a tall stool for me. I climb into it, swooning forward until I prop my elbows on the island to keep me steady. It’s covered in a tablecloth, but there are no place mats or napkins or cutlery at the ready. Just an ornate gold brush that must have been an antique, and some conditioning oil. Maybe he still has to set the table.
