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I heard his zipper. With urgency, his hand lowered, and he lifted my legs to wrap his waist before the smooth tip of his thick, bare cock pressed to my slit. "You want your pleasure with this." His moan rolled against my shoulder as he pushed into my entry. Filling my tight walls, he pressed in a way that had an uncontrolled gasp escape, turning to a whimper the deeper it went.
"Your cunt has been weeping for me," he said once he settled hilt deep. "Tell us how much you love this."
Already, the friction and ache of his slow movement had me craving more, while also wishing it wasn't displayed to my family. His hips rocked backwards then went forward.
I begrudgingly muttered, "I love this."
“Louder. And say my name.”
With shame, I raised my voice. “I love—”
A firm, deep thrust cut into my words, bringing me to gasp. He slowly guided himself out. “Tell us.”
My deep breath was followed by a loud and quick, “I love this, Armon.”
“That’s a good girl,” he purred before his movements sped. He somehow maneuvered the uncomfortable, bound position into a perfect angle to receive him. Maybe he’d bound women and taken innocence on numerous occasions. I was nothing special beyond someone to humiliate. More than once, he ordered me to say his name, thrusting deep to cut the word short.
As he quickened, so did my responding pants and gasps that I couldn't hide every time he went deep. As the ache for release had me reacting, his body ground against mine in response. It wasn't just the thrusts that felt undeniably satisfying, but the hands kneading my thighs, pads of fingers digging, firm chest rubbing against my oversensitive breasts, warm breaths against my shoulder. The hums with every one of his moans were what turned me on the most, though.
A desperate squeak escaped my throat as my climax hit, and walls tightened. "Ar—" I stopped myself from saying his name; too much awareness of our surroundings had returned.
His left arm curled around my lower back as he pulled the rope loops from the hooks on the ceiling. Weightlessness took hold before he speedily lowered me to the table, gripping my hips as his began to pound with a loud slap-slap-slap. "Look at me," he ordered, suddenly stern.
I obeyed, my gaze connecting to his intense, gray eyes. So intense. As equally intense as the pistoning into me. I got lost in the soul consuming intensity. No one had ever looked at me that way. No one had ever made me feel an odd comfort in submission.
With another slam deep, his muscles flexed, cords and veins swelling in his neck. He fell forward, elbows to either side of my head, and more passion in his eyes. The hard crash of his lips to mine had me melting beneath him. With every blast of seed, he pushed a little deeper, his mouth hindering the escape of my whimpers in response to the brief pain from the depth.
Chapter Six
From my understanding, most men would be content to do other things after they received gratification, but Armon was nothing like what I assumed of men. He didn't rise and zip his pants. He didn't shift his attention to anyone else either. It remained on me with a lingering stare I had no idea how to respond to.
My mind went to pregnancy, and from what I understood about ovulation, I wasn't at risk given my period would start within the week. A slight relief. But what if he was diseased? The thoughts churned in my mind until he lowered his mouth to mine with tormentingly slow pecks and what he must have considered sexy teases of kisses.
He took a joyful breath. "You could have saved any one of them, but you wanted to be mine." He spoke loud. "It's only fair that you be their executioner as well. You did seal their fates by choosing me."
The mind games felt more evil than physical pain. I had to hope this was another threat that wouldn't prove true. Despite how he’d acted earlier, no physical violence was ever directed to me.
When a bit of hope for their survival had come, it also came crashing down. "Line them up facing this way." Those were Armon's words to his goons before he rose and lifted me to my feet. "Don't you worry. I'm going to make sure you have plenty of family in here." The firm pressure of his palm landed on my stomach.
It had to be a lie. No. Maybe he had no intention of impregnating me. Then again, Katya had become pregnant. Would he fuck me nonstop until I became pregnant and then abandon me to such suffering? Maybe this was more mental torment and punishment for what had happened.
I hugged an arm over my chest and attempted to cover my privates as well.
"Oh, Sweet One." As he spoke, I could hear the rustling of his clothes. "You need your hands for this." He guided the arm from my chest. Defeat weighed on me as the captives—some I knew all too well—looked in my direction as they were forced beside each other.
I jerked forward as he took the other as well.
"Raise your arms for me." He came close enough my back met his chest then held the shirt in front of me, already positioned so my hands would slide in. Once it was on me, he bent forward to kiss the crown of my head. "How about we save your brother and father for last?"
There were no words that I could say to change his mind. Nothing I could do would stop this. The man who'd driven us—Cade—handed Armon a gun that he in turn placed in my hand with his wrapped around it.
I refused to think about what was about to happen as he forced my finger onto the trigger. The silencer made it so only a whistle sounded as the gun kicked slightly. Had I done it?
I stood there, uncertain of reality as his finger pushed against mine again. My eyes were squeezed shut, and my face was turned to the side as the pressure was accompanied by the hum of the shot and tormenting sounds of thuds. Tears streamed my cheeks as the sounds of pain or death registered. I wasn’t certain how he could hold my trembling hand steady, but he did. Time and again, he aimed my hand and forced my finger against the trigger.
"Good girl," he whispered in my ear as he took the gun and handed it to Cade. "You did that perfectly." The callous words had me sickened with him and myself.
I chose this—not intentionally, but it had been based upon my decision. I wouldn't look at the evidence of my crime. I wanted to believe it was faked, and they were all still alive, though I knew that wasn’t true. I could have saved at least one of them. I could have begged for their lives. I could have fucked one or maybe all in order to save them. I could have done anything—but I did nothing. Just as I'd done regarding Katya. But now, I had no family. I had nothing. I rushed from him and into the house, feeling like I would vomit or faint, or possibly both. When I heard the door creak from behind, I headed for the stairs, but Armon’s voice stopped me. "Where are you going?"
