Page 22 of Not Your Hero

“You can come sooner if you want to but yeah, I got everything planned out for us,” he confirms.

“I’ll take the week. Hopefully I get everything straightened out around here before that.”

“Sounds good. I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon.” I hang up the phone and pull up the pictures I have of Emerson. Taking in her beautiful face all the way down her naked body. I can still see her riding my damn face, taste her pussy on my tongue.

My fucking cock decides now is the time to get hard just from looking. I set my glass to the side and raise my hips, pulling my pants down and freeing my cock. I spit onto my palm and grabmy cock, stroking that bastard slowly at first while looking at her. Fuck, her pussy was made for me.

I bite my lip as I take in her face. She didn’t know about this picture. She was in her bed, naked, legs spread wide. Her hand is between her legs, playing with herself. I have the perfect view of her pussy, but I can also see her face. The photo was taken from straight down between her legs while she exposed herself to the back window.

I tug harder, imagining her pussy wrapped around me the way it does. The way she clenches and tightens, how her cheeks flush.

I stroke it harder, thinking about her lips. What it would feel like to have her lips wrapped around my cock. Fuck, that might be the best feeling in the goddamn world if only it were possible. But it isn’t. Yet, still, I can imagine it.

The harder I stroke it, the closer I get.

“Fuck, Emerson!” I scream her name as I make myself harder by the second. When I can’t handle it anymore, I drop the phone and cup my hand over the end of my cock, and come hard. I shoot my load into my other hand, catching every fucking drop.

When I’m breathless and finished, I release my cock, letting it fall between my legs before bringing my other hand to my mouth. I stick my tongue out and lick the cum off my palm, tasting myself. I wanted to taste it coming out of her but that looks like it’s going to have to wait.

When I’m done, I grab my cell, pull my pants back up, and stand, heading to my bedroom. When I enter, I glance at the chains on the walls and sigh. Those were for her. At some point, I would have brought her back here. I would have done all the sick things I wanted to do to her.

Taking her back to the hotel was just the start. I was easing her into the things I wanted from her. The plan was always to get her back here at some point. When she passed out from the drugs, I would take her home and tuck her worn-out and used body into bed, but that isn’t an option now. Not anymore.

Because when I find her, I’m keeping her. Fuck the consequences. Fuck the repercussions. I never planned on keeping her so I will need to make a few arrangements for her here.

I step into the bathroom and set my phone down to clean myself up. I wash up and stare at myself in the mirror. Maybe Gary was right. Maybe I do need a break from all this.

Ren will be able to handle things while I’m gone. He’ll keep searching for her just the same as I could. Our men are already on it, and I don’t plan on letting them stop or give up until I find her.

Whether that be dead or alive, I have to know where she is. Emerson has fueled a sick, obsessive need in me. One I can’t tame and or get rid of. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine, in a way. If I’d never seen her, never got a look at her, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. But I did and now here we are.

I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t want to. I can’t stop tasting her on my tongue. I can’t stop seeing her in my mind. It’s like a fucking sickness I can’t be cured from. And in the end? I don’t want to be.

Chapter 14

Emerson

My arms are in chains, pulling them over my head to the point my shoulders burn. Blood trickles down my hands from my fingers from where I tried clawing my way out of the cell. I couldn’t help it. I need out of here.

I scream as the whip collides with my flesh. The burn shoots through my body as he does it over and over again. Cries choke me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t know how long he’s had me chained up here, and I don’t want to know. All I know is it feels like hours.

Each snap of the whip causes my stomach to lurch, but I’ve hardly eaten in the time I’ve been here so there isn’t really anything to come up.

“Scream louder,” the man demands as I sob harder. The whip snaps through the air and thwacks against my back once more, and the scream that comes this time is louder, just like he wanted. He laughs until I hear something hit the ground. Then I feel him move in behind me, his hands coming up to unhook my wrists, letting them fall to my sides.

I instantly drop to my knees before crying out in pain from the rock cutting into my already bloody knees.

“Emerson, Emerson.” He tutts behind me. I don’t bother to move or look up at him. I keep my head down because I’ve found when I do try to look up at him, he hits me.

“You look so beautiful chained up like that. Maybe I should do it more often,” he says.

“Why?” I whisper.

“Why am I doing it? I could say because I want to, but it’s mostly to ruin you, mark you, and leave you scared.”

“Why do you want that?”

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