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He hooks his fingers under the collar he put on me earlier and pulls until I’m forced to lift off the bed slightly, then lets go. My head falls back and reality hits me right in the face.
I keep my eyes closed while I register the pain. Holy fucking shit, it hurts.
Grumbling low in my throat, I come to my senses, the first thing I feel being the ache in my ribs.
It all comes back so easily. I wish my brain had given me more time with ignorant bliss.
I got run over. By Ethan. My ex-boyfriend hit me with his truck.
I feel a hand at my thigh. Elliot.
Elliot chained me to his fucking bed and…what have I done?
This is the moment when I need to make a decision. Do I lie to myself, or do I admit that giving my consent back to Elliot is the best decision I made since being back in this town?
Nothing feels better than the pleasure he brings. It’s so natural, like everything falls into place when he touches me. I don’t know if it’s the memories or an entirely new feeling, but having him close to me, feeling me, pleasuring me…it’s like I’ve been waiting my entire life to be completed that way.
But I know what it entails. It means being utterly his. It means he gets to do whatever he wants with my body now. And Elliot takes that statement seriously. Once you give him yourself, there’s no going back.
His hands slide up my thighs, and I tense. His fingertips are calloused. They’re rough, like someone who…
I gasp as I open my eyes. I’m surprised I didn’t recognize Ethan’s touch sooner. I’ve learned his fingertips by heart. They’re the ones of a man who plays the guitar all day long. Who spends hours honing his craft.
“What are you doing!”
I’m wheezing as I sit up, bringing a hand to my ribs and one flat on the mattress so I don’t fall back. I feel dizzy from the sudden pain, but that orgasm from earlier knocked me out, and I’m rested and wide awake now.
He stays completely silent as he grabs my thighs in a deadly grip and spreads them wide.
“Ethan.” I try to bring my legs back and push him off, but he simply looks up at me.
His eyes are darker than any fear ever known to man. In this moment, he doesn’t care what he takes or who he hurts.
Nothing is as important as what hewants.
His fingers press harder into my skin, and my heart skips a beat. “Be careful,” I hiss. I take breaths as deep as I can, but it’s not much. “Ethan, don’t.” Keeping my voice steady, I do my best not to trigger the dangerous man I know he is. The same one who hit me with a fucking truck.
How? How could he go from caring for me to wanting to kill me?
“You don’t have to hurt me,” I insist, my heart pounding in my ears. “I won’t tell anyone you helped me run away.” I’m stuck on this bed, collared and chained to the fucking wall. And I’ve got a man who tried to murder me holding my legs wide open.
What am I meant to do but placate him?
His eyes soften, and he brings his face to mine. Patchouli, cedar, and bergamot.
So deeply him, my heart stutters once more.
I don’t actually know what those three things smell like, but I remember googling and learning about his cologne back in high school. Anything that would bring me closer to him.
Just one of those things that led me to breaking my own heart. Too involved, too obsessed.
He moves the collar slightly, showing my skin underneath. It drives me insane that this thing pisses me off as much as it turns me on. My brain isn’t wired for such contradictions. I’m a woman who knows what she wants, not one who is confused about what she feels.
His lips brush the skin he revealed under the collar, and his teeth raise goosebumps to the back of my neck.
He nibbles at it, sucking in. I feel a rush of blood and my stomach twists. He stays longer than comfortable, undoubtedly bringing a mark to the spot.
I moan when he lets go, like I’d been holding it all along. “I would never hurt you, Jade,” he whispers in my ear.
