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My dick likes it though. Really fucking likes it. It perks up again. Eager and equally exhausted from this back and forth. For its mental health, it needs some stability.
Give me some stability, Skylar.
But instead of doing anything to punish me for my small act of defiance, he just drops my wrist and grabs on to my shoulder, steering me to the couch where he pushes me down. I plop onto the sofa cushion, seething in anger.
“You don’t control me,” I mutter.
“And yet, here you are,” he replies.
With stabby fingers, I punch in my brother’s number, wanting to hear him speak so I can calm down, but he doesn’t answer. Even hearing his sweet voice on the recording does nothing to level me out. Oh fuck, I’m raging. I can feel it as it works its way through my body like slow-moving lava. I’m in destruction mode. I’m going to take out everyone and everything in my path.
Without thinking, I chuck the phone across the room, watching as it smacks against the wall and plops to the floor. Skylar watches it all, his jaw working back and forth.
“I don’t think you even threw it hard enough to break it,” he finally utters, making me see red. I pop up and punch him in the chest, knowing that I’ve done nothing but hurt my hand. But I do it anyways. And before he can reach out and grab me, I bolt. I make a fucking run for it.
Skylar is slow. That’s the issue with being so big. He can’t get his legs to move fast enough. He lumbers like the Ents inThe Lord of the Rings, but a lot sexier.
My hand reaches the door before he even rounds the sofa, and I whip it open, my legs carrying me outside. The first breath of fresh air in days, and I inhale greedily as my legs pump beneath me.
I’m being reckless and stupid but I don’t care. I’m mad, so fucking angry. I feel the chaos bubbling up inside of me, and I feel like I’m going to burst. The past few days have been hell, have been so goddamn hard. I’m losing my fucking mind, so fucking itchy. Twigs and rocks dig into my feet, my breath puffing out of me as I propel myself forward. I know eventually I will have to turn back, but right now, I just move. I can hear Skylar catching up to me, his grumbled curses sailing in my direction.
Oh, he’s mad. He’s going to be so damn angry. I’ve pushed him beyond his limits.
But I don’t care.
My head swivels on my shoulders, and I look back to see Skylar approaching, his brow furrowed, his hair a mess. He looks far too serious.
And that’s when I trip, my foot catching on a root in the ground, and I tumble down, scraping my knees and palms in the process. Pain shoots up my limbs as I try to scramble back up, but before I can even move a few feet, I’m in Skylar’s arms.
He doesn’t even say a word about my little escape attempt, just casually throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I grunt, my stomach pressed into his shoulder, my ass right in his face as he trudges back to the small cabin in the woods.
“Put me down!” I shout, but he ignores me, just continues on his merry way. And when we’re inside, he walks us over to the fridge, grabs the rope, and then flops me down on the bed. He doesn’t even do it nicely, just drops me unceremoniously.
I scramble back, but his thick legs straddle mine, pinning me in place. My struggle is futile. Within minutes, my hands are tied securely to the bedpost, the rope biting into my skin. When he finally moves off of me, and I manage to kick him in the stomach, he ties my feet down too. I’m splayed out and unable to move. My dick is hard and aching and I hate that. I hate that I like this.
“Going to clean you up,” he mutters. “Not that you deserve it. Should let the bacteria settle in and the gangrene take your limbs.”
“Fuck you. Untie me.”
“No.”
He ambles into the bathroom and returns with a rag and bandages. Gently, he cleans my cuts, wiping the blood from my knees and my palms before placing bandages over them. I couldn’t care less about the damn things, I barely felt it anyways. I’ve been exposed to pain before. That barely registered.
“Let me go.” I try and wrench myself free, but it only seems to make the rope around my wrists and ankles grow tighter.
“When you finally calm down, I’ll let you go. But I don’t trust you not to try to escape again. Reckless little shit.”
I glower at him, but he ignores me, which only makes me angrier. I scream at him, cussing him out, lobbing terrible, mostly untrue things his way. But it all comes tumbling out, unchecked and uncensored. I don’t let up, just let it stream from my lips, over and over again until he shoves a washrag in my mouth.
I gag around it, struggling to breathe, but he doesn’t seem to care. I hope I die like this, that my father finds me bound up and gagged. I hope my ghost can watch Skylar’s final moments when my father puts a bullet through his brain. When he scrapes Skylar’s beautiful flesh from his skin.
“Seems you want attention,” Skylar says moments later, when my labored breathing gets under control. He’s standing over me, looming. His hand rubs across his jaw as his eyes skate over my trussed-up form.
“Seems your dick wants attention too, but you don’t deserve that. No, that would be a reward for your bad behavior.”
I moan as he reaches down and runs a finger up my hard length, making my hips arch up, searching for more. Needing more. Fuck, I want to come. I’m desperate.
“Seems you deserve something else for putting your life in danger. For being so reckless. Do you ever learn?”
