Page 60 of Unhinged

"See, Alice," I breathe. "This is what you asked for, isn't it? You, beneath me, begging me to stop." My fingers trail down her wetness and she gasps, the sound turning into a whimper as I taste her on my fingers. "And yet, your body betrays you, doesn't it? You're soaking wet for me, baby." I smirk as I trace a path along her thigh with my fingers. "Do you feel how much you want me, Alice?" I purr, my fingers slipping inside her, her hips bucking against my hand. "You might say 'stop', but your body says 'more'." I chuckle. "Your words say no, but your cunt says yes. And who am I to deny what it wants?" I move lower, my tongue exploring her, tasting her, relishing in the sweet, decadent flavour of her desire.

"You wanted the monster, Alice," I remind her, my fingers curling inside her, my tongue lapping at her clit. "And now you have him," I growl, my voice a dangerous purr. "So tell me to stop, Alice. Beg me to stop," I challenge, my eyes locked onto hers, my fingers pumping inside her. "Because, every time you do, it just makes me want you more."

The fire in her eyes is ablaze now. She's lost to the sensation.

"Stop!" She fights against me hard. Her body arching against my hand as she tries to escape. I hold firm and grab her throat, squeezing hard enough to partially block her airways and to leave bruises around her neck like a collar.

25

ALICE

Taren’s eyes look black in the dim light of the room as he keeps the balaclava over his head. I run my hands down his burned skin, wondering what happened to him. He’s tortured in so many ways. The scars remind me of his childhood home ravaged by flames.

Did Ileana burn him?

What darkness lurks in his past, driving him?

I moan as he slams into me again, my hips rising to meet his actions. “Taren, stop,” I groan, trying to keep playing my part in our twisted act.

It’s what I wanted. Taren is the first man I’ve allowed inside me since Michael raped me. And yet my fucked up mind wants to play it out. As if it’s the only way to wrap my head around the trauma.

“You like this, don’t you?” His words are a guttural growl against my ear. A hot whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “My dirty little bird likes getting raped.”

I grind my teeth, my mind and body at war. I know it’s wrong. I know it doesn’t make sense. Yet, there’s a twisted logic to it, a sensation of control amidst the chaos. I can stop it if I want. But I don’t. One word, and our fantasy shatters.

Taren continues. His rhythm unrelenting. His grip tightens around my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. “You wanted this. Needed this.”

He’s right.

I arch my back as he fucks me so deep I don’t know where I end, and he begins. “No,” I spit. “Stop!” I keep playing my part, making his eyes flash. He goes harder, and it hurts and feels good all at the same time.

We both know I’ve got the word to stop this. And I won’t use it because this is what I need. Taren and his madness are like balm for my broken soul. And I want to drown in him. I want him to take my broken pieces and put them back together with his.

“I can see the fear in your eyes, but there’s excitement, too. Admit it.” He leans toward my ear, the fabric of the balaclava brushing my skin. “And, little bird, I get off on fear. It’s fucking intoxicating.” I feel him fumble with something beneath the pillow under my head. And then he pulls out a blade, glinting dangerously in the low light.

“What—”

He uses his other hand to cover my mouth. The cool metal of the blade presses against my skin, a shock of fear and anticipation arcing me. “You didn’t know how dark I could be, did you?”

A tremor of uncertainty courses through me. There’s a primal part of me, a part I didn’t know existed until tonight, that thrills at the sight of the blade. Yet another part of me recoils. There’s a flutter of fear running up my spine, making my heart pound like a jackhammer in my chest.

A twisted smile forms on his lips as he traces the blade over my skin. It’s not hard enough to draw blood merely scraping it. “I see you flinch when the blade touches your soft skin, but I also see the excitement in your eyes. You’re playing with fire.” He maneuvers the blade and presses it slightly to let a tiny droplet of blood surface. “My fire is unlike any you’ve encountered before. It won’t just burn you, it’ll consume you.”

His gaze is locked on mine, a dark hunger in his eyes as he lowers his mouth to my skin.

I gasp as he licks the blood and then sucks, tasting it like a heathen beast.

He lifts his eyes to mine, practically black now. “You taste perfect. My dark and twisted drug.” He grins, a flash of white against the darkness, and raises the blade again. His hand is steady, the glinting steel poised above my skin. “Now,” he murmurs, “to add my mark to ensure everyone knows you belong to me. T.C.”

My breath catches as the blade dances across my skin, carefully sculpting the letters, the sharp sting cutting through the haze of pleasure. “What does the ‘C’ stand for?” I ask through gritted teeth as he finishes his work.

“Castillo,” he responds, his voice rough with emotion. “My birth name. Ileana changed it to Navarro.” A shadow passes over his features, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

They call him the mad hatter, and I love that about him. The madness is what drew me to him the moment we met.

I know I’m marked, claimed. His initials on my skin are a testament to our twisted bond. And strangely, I find myself not only accepting it, but craving it. Taren Castillo. The man has inscribed himself onto my being, not just my skin. He’s deep in my soul, so deep I couldn’t ever get him out.

“Your blood is as intoxicating as the finest wine.” He runs the edge of the blade across his tongue, licking my blood from it. “Do you feel that? Your life force is mingling with mine.”

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