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He remains in-between my legs, staring down at me, the air in the room charged with an intense electricity. Right now, I wish Mariella had stayed. When she's near, I feel safe. I feel like I can ignore reality. The reality beingMarco—this perplexing, angry man who makes me feel anything but safe.
“I have news about your family,” he says suddenly, snapping me out of my angry haze. Anxiety blooms throughout my entire body. My hands become clammy, my fingers cold. I haven’t really allowed myself to think about them, knowing that they must be going insane with worry. If I did, it would make this whole situation a lot worse than it is and it’s already a living nightmare.
“Don’t you want to know what the news is, Lori?” He asks, that same dark, amusing tone still tickling his words, causing my anxiety to flare.
“What’s going on with my family?” I ask, sounding small, sounding scared because quite frankly when it comes to them, I am.
I see his lips move into a smile, a sinister one from what I can tell.
“They’re quite frantic over you, princess. They’re tearing this city apart trying to find you. Your father is quite disappointed in your brothers’ failed attempts, I’m sure that’s not making it any easier for them, which pleases me.”
When he mentions my father, my whole body tightens. My father is a ruthless, hard man. Not many people try to stand against him and if they do, I know that the odds are never in their favor afterwards. The only time I’ve ever seen him distraught was when I lost my vision. Even my brothers would tell me that when my mother died, he didn’t shed a tear. He just became colder. I can’t imagine my father becoming frantic, so now that Marco has declared that he is, I get the overwhelming urge to cry.
“Are they... are they all still safe?” I ask, the words struggling to come out smoothly, they sound all jumbled and garbled from the tears that now threaten to spill over.
But I won’t give him that. I won’t give this man any of my emotion, not only because he doesn’t deserve it, but because I don’t want to make him feel like he’s won.
“For now. Until they find my compound. Once they fall into my trap, none of you are safe. In fact, all of you are very close to swimming with the fish down in the Hudson.” When the words leave his mouth, something inside of me snaps.
I am so tired of having to be submissive to this man, this man that I try to convince myself is human, when he’s clearly not. He is what lurks behind in the shadows, what crawls underneath children's beds and hides in the closet; tormenting, waiting. He’s threatened our lives several times and now, and I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of the bruising kisses, of the craving I feel for his skin. I’ve had enough of the threats and the dread he spreads inside of my body like venom. I’m done. He’s always going to win, so why not die trying to fight? I will not be a disappointment to my father. I will not lay here willing, waiting. I will fight even if that means we all die.
“If you’re going to kill me, why stand there and waste your fucking time with these miniscule threats? Why not just do it already?” I shout at him, my hands meeting his hips and pushing with all my strength.
Of course, he doesn’t move. He stands there like a solid brick wall, not even cracking in the slightest at my futile outburst. If anything, it changes him. It makes him angrier, more threatening. He grabs me by the throat, his fingers tightening around my skin as I grunt and kick at him like an unhinged animal. He leans down, his lips a breath away from mine. When he is this close, that stupid part of me that still exists inside of my rage wants him to kiss me, to touch me. The angrier part of me wants to kill him myself. And that only fuels my rage, the fact that I still want him. The fact that I can feel the wetness spread on my underwear.
If he doesn’t shoot me or starve me, the confusing cocktail of emotions he elicits inside of me surely will be my end.
“I want you to suffer, Lori. I want all of you to suffer, just as I have. I want you all to pay for the crimes you have committed against my family, my blood. Me.” His words spit against my lips as I try not to tremble in his hold.
“And because of your little outburst, I’ve decided that your real suffering begins now,” he threatens and before I can have the time to even wonder what he means by that, he’s flipping me onto my knees on the bed, grabbing at my hands with one of his and holding them against my back as my cheek presses down into the soft mattress.
I hear the clinking of his belt buckle, and before I realize what's going on, my underwear is being ripped from my body, just as the bite of his leather belt lands against my skin, silencing both of us.
My whole body stills, tenses. I can’t register the fact that he just whipped me with his belt. I can’t scream or cry or do anything, because it is like time has frozen completely. His hand grips mine tighter against my back, my dress pulled up to the middle of my spine. He lets out an almost anguished sound before he resumes his assault, the slaps of his belt against the skin of my ass echoing across the room, tainting every bit of solace that I found in it for the short time that I’ve been in here.
I don’t cry, but when I feel my wetness trickle down my thighs, suddenly I want to. I want to sob for the fact that my body is betraying my mind, that for some twisted reason, it likes this. I want to scream and thrash against the mattress, but I don’t move a muscle or make a sound. I just kneel there on the velvet bedspread, waiting for his lashing to end.
When it does, he is breathing heavily, like he’s run a marathon. He drops the belt against the floor, the metal buckle hitting the hardwood. His free hand caresses my ass, soothing the burn of his marks. An animalistic sound leaves his lips then, like a guttural roar tearing free. He leans over me, the hard outline of his erection pressing against me as his chest molds against my back, his lips at my ear.
“We’re not even close to being done,” he whispers roughly, his fingers moving from my ass to the entrance of my sex, circling it as I try to bite back a moan.
Dear God, what is he doing now?
He groans as his fingers sink into my wetness, the roughness of his movement startling me as I gasp and tighten around him. He seems pleased by this reaction because he starts to move his fingers deeper inside of me, plunging until he hits that sacred, untouched part of me. When he touches the barrier inside of me that has yet to be broken, he becomes unhinged.
He starts to move and spread them inside of me, that moan finally tearing from my lips. Once again, my body detaches from my head and starts to react. I push my ass into his hips, eager for more. He leans forward and bites down on my shoulder, as if telling me to stop, to take what he has to give—to feel. So I do. I take every rough slide of his fingers and moan into the mattress, my sex growing wetter with each circle of his fingertips. When he starts to fuck me with them, I grow delirious.
It’s only been my fingers in there and even then, it has never felt like this before. It hasn’t felt this full or intense and even though I should hate it, I can’t deny my body's blatant reaction to it. I grow greedy for more, hungry even. I start to pine for the real thing, for his cock to be there. I want him to lay me on my back and spread my legs. I want to look at his face while he takes me for the first time, see if that human man really lies awake behind the beast.
He rears back, ripping his fingers from me and all I hear then is the sound of his zipper. Before a second passes, the head of his cock is pressing into me, startling me.
“Marco, wait—” I choke out, trying to freeze this moment so I can fully grasp what is about to happen.
“You don’t get to tell me anything, Lorena. Not anymore.” His sex pushes fully into me now, ripping past that fleshy barrier as I cry out into the mattress, my pussy contracting around him.
I feel him pause briefly and when he does, my whole body shakes. I begin to clench around him, opening and stretching to welcome his massive size. I bite down on my lip, my throat tight with unshed tears. It’s not that I didn’t want him to take me, God knows my body craves him, I just didn’t want it like this. I wanted to be able to wrap my legs around him, to hold onto his arms and look at his beautiful face as he stretched me for the very first time. I wanted it soft, with kisses all over. But of course, that is the dreamworld inside of my head. That is not reality. That is not who he really is.
“Marco... what have you done?” I whisper, but his answer is not words.
