Page 13 of Redeeming Logan

Taliah

This man will be the death of me, but one thing is for certain, I will thank him while he’s tearing me to pieces. Logan trails the knife to my other thigh, nicking my skin in various places. The warm blood mixing with the wetness started to pool between my thighs. The pleasure intensifies as my skin grows hot. He doesn’t say a word as he cuts me open, spilling my blood for his own pleasure. Logan catches my gaze before he reaches for my calf, grips it with his rough hand, and plunges the knife deep into the muscle. A pained scream rushes up my throat, and tears prick my eyes. He drags the knife out slowly, placing it between my legs, entranced by the blood oozing out of me. The pain slowly ebbs into a lust filled throb that travels slowly towards my pussy. I try to wiggle my legs together to alleviate the need, but the straps attached to my ankles give no leeway. Logan’s gaze travels from the wound until it locks on my pussy.

“Look at that needy little pussy.” He whispers as he trails his finger down my lips, gathering the wetness there. Holding his glistening finger up towards the light to admire my arousal before he thrusts it into his mouth, sucking it off with an obnoxious pop. Picking up the knife, he runs the sharp blade through my lips, mixing my blood with my juices. “This pussy ismine.” He pricks my left lip with the tip of the knife, and the pain shoots through my core, making me and my pussy weep. A tear trailing down my cheek as more liquid seeped out of my cunt. “God damnit Taliah, watching you and your pussy weep for me is enough to send me to an early grave.” Logan growls as he tosses the bloody knife onto the tray next to me and picks up the small pen attached to the device on it. He fiddles with the controls until a high pitched whine sounds through the room.

Logan doesn’t say a word as he brings the pen to my pelvis, right above the top of my pussy. The malicious glint in his eyes makes my breath come faster. My heart feels like it’s going to burst through my chest as he brings the pen to my skin. At first I don’t feel anything and I start to relax, and then the searing heat begins. Logan trails the pen down and to the left, creating an L. The skin is red, burned, and inflamed, causing a whimper to leave my lips. He goes over the L again, making me grunt in pain. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest, settling in for the rest of this torture until he’s done. After the third pass, it goes silent in the room again, then his hand is around my neck, cutting off my air supply. Eyes shooting open, colliding with his, “Open your fucking eyes, and take your punishment like a good girl.” He growls, releasing my neck from his hold. I nod my head and take a few deep breaths, steeling myself for the onslaught.

I watch as he agonizingly and painstakingly makes his artwork perfect. As soon as he’s done, he sets the pen back onto the tray and switches off the machine. Angry red burns stare up at me in the form of Logan’s name. The edges cracked and blistered from going over it so many times. My pelvis throbs with a low, dull pain, making my clit throb for a release. Logan admires his work, making me squirm with need. He’s staring at me like I’m his new prized possession.

As soon as our eyes collide, it’s game over. His hands are gripping my face as his lips slam against mine. The kiss is violent and filled with possession. I meet his desire with my own, pulling at the restraints, trying to get closer to him. He fumbles with the leather wrapped around my wrists until they are finally free, and I waste no time tangling my fingers in his hair. Holding him closer as his tongue ravishes my mouth. He breaks away long enough to undo the restraints on my ankles. “Fuck, you are exquisite. My perfect Little Monster, I’ve been looking for you for what feels like forever. Now that I have you, I will never let you go.” He says as he pulls me up from the chair, turning me around, and pushing me face down into the seat. The blood and my arousal mixing with the tears on my face.

Logan grabs the back of my head, wrapping his fingers in my hair, and smears my face into the mess on the leather. “Taste yourself, Taliah. Taste how decadent you are.” My tongue peeks out from between my swollen lips, lapping up the blood and juices from the leather. The coppery, sweet taste coats my tongue, causing a moan to creep out of me. Logan kicks my legs apart, and the jingle of his belt and zipper rings through the air. Before my next breath can escape my lungs, he has me impaled with his hard cock, setting a ruthless pace. His grip on the backof my neck tightens as he brutally takes me from behind. His cock hitting my cervix has a pleasurable pain coursing through me. Leaning up on my tiptoes, the change in angle has his cock rubbing up against a spot inside of me that has stars coasting along my vision. Logan’s movements start to stutter, “Come with me, Taliah. I want to feel your pussy pulse around me, milking me for everything that I have.", Those words set me off like a rocket. My vision blurs as my orgasm takes over, liquid dripping out of me and splashing to the floor below us. Our moans a beautiful symphony in this room of horrors.

“Does this mean you’re keeping me then?” I manage to say after I’ve caught my breath. The chuckle that leaves him makes my stomach drop and my muscles tighten. I lean up from the chair, intending to push him away, but he hugs me to him, cementing us in place with his cock still twitching inside of me. He leans down to my ear, “How many times do I need to tell you that you’re mine, Little Monster? The only way you’re getting away from me now is through death.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Logan

Icarry Taliah’s sated and bloody body down the cold, dark hall, bypassing her door, which causes her eyebrows to lift. She clutches my shirt in her tiny fists as shivers race through her body. At the end of the hall, we finally reach our destination, placing my thumb against the fingerprint scanner that I made sure to get when I picked my own room. I wanted better security for my own sanctuary than what's in this place. The lock beeps as it disengages, the door popping open as I shuffle us through the opening, kicking it closed behind us.

The darkness in the room swallows us whole, leaving us in a comforting cocoon. Walking towards where the bathroom lies in the back of the room, shouldering through the open door, the dim light flicks on as we enter. Taliah is quiet as I set her down on the black countertop. Turning away from her, I set to work on getting the bathtub going, pouring lavender scented bubbles into the water. As the tub slowly fills, I remove my clothes andtoss them into the hamper. Scooping Taliah up off the counter, I carry her over the tub, step inside the hot water, and sink down into the bubbles. A hiss escapes her lips as the water hits her battered skin. I recline against the back of the tub, pulling her back against my chest, resting her head against me, my hands resting on her stomach. Fingers trailing over my name branded into her soft skin.

“Thank you.” Tahlia whispers so low that I almost miss it. My head quirks to the side as I try to figure out what in the world she could be thanking me for. Sensing my utter confusion, she continues, “You broke me open, scooped out my darkness, and forced it to play along with yours. I’ve never felt so alive before you came into the picture like a wrecking ball begging for destruction. You have all of me, Logan, and I want all of you too.” Tilting her head, she looks up at me with glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill over her lashes. She’s so beautiful when she cries, but my heart clenches seeing the sadness in her eyes.

“You do have all of me, Taliah, always.” She shakes her head and looks away from me, struggling to get up and exit the tub, but I hold her in an iron grip. Taliah lets out a huff before relaxing back into my arms. “No, I don’t, Logan; I don’t have all of you. You don’t let me in. You let me see your darkness, but what about the other parts? I don’t even know your favorite color for fucks sake!”

“Green.”

“What?” She says with exasperation.

“My favorite color is green, specifically the shade of green that shines in your eyes when you’re coming. My favorite food is barbeque chicken, and I love homemade french fries, something fierce. I don’t care too much for music, but your heartbeat ismy favorite song to listen to. My favorite smell is your skin right after a shower; juicy peaches, almost so sweet I have a need to bite into you to taste it.” Looking down at her, the tears have finally fallen from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks, leaving streaks through the drops of blood still lingering. Reaching up and gripping her face in my hand, I swipe her tears away with my thumb, “I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, Taliah. I’ve taken things that didn’t belong to me, broken things just because I fucking can. Sat by and watched someone take their last breath just for amusement. But you? The thought of breaking you apart and not being able to put you back together—the thought of your last breath rattling through your chest—terrifies me. If you asked me the first day we met to save you, I would laugh in your face and stab right through your heart with no remorse. But now? Now I would destroy the fucking world to save you, to keep you right by my side.”

Taliah turns her body around so fast that water rushes over the edge of the tub and splashes down on the floor. She throws her arms around my neck and her soft lips crash into mine, her thighs straddling my thighs, my cock twitching at her entrance. Taliah leans up and grips my cock in her small hand without breaking from my lips, lines my dick up with her opening and slides down with ease. The moment I’m fully sheathed inside her, she leans back and looks into my eyes with an emotion I’ve never seen before, something I can’t quite decipher. She starts to move her hips slowly, her nails digging into my chest as she holds herself up. Gripping her hips with one hand, I thrust up into her while my other reaches up to wrap around her slender throat.

Her pulse beats against my fingers as I grip her, holding her in place, her eyes never leaving my own. Her lips part as a moan escapes, and my name drifts along behind it. My other hand leaves her hip, rubbing circles around her clit as she keeps up her pace riding my cock. Her eyes plead for something that I've never known before. My heart beats erratically, and in this moment I know that I was never meant to have a Little Lamb after all. My perfect match was a Little Monster, and she’s bouncing on my cock at this very moment. Her pussy pulses around my cock as her orgasm rushes over her, forcing the come out of my cock along with it. I let go of her throat, and she lays her head on my chest, drifting off to sleep against me.

Chapter Twenty- Six

Taliah

Iawake cocooned in soft, downy warmth; my body aches in a few places, but aside from that, I’m the most comfortable I’ve been during my time at Harmony Heights. Not wanting to ruin my new found comfort, I relish in it for a few minutes longer until my bladder starts to protest. Groaning, I open my eyes and sit up in the soft bed I’ve been laid in. The surrounding black sheets, pillows, and walls are unrecognizable to me until last night's events trickle back into my mind. The realization that I’m in Logan’s bedroom has a sense of triumph coursing through my body, but then its deflated when I notice I’m alone. Stretching my limbs out, I climb out of bed and find the bathroom in the back corner of the room. I do my business and come back out to snoop around. Logan’s room is all black everything, with accents of dark mahogany wood throughout. The window seat in the corner over looks the same forest that I stare into every single night.

A shiver courses through my body, taking notice that I’m still naked. Seeing a door in the opposite corner of the room, I try the doorknob and it twists open with ease. A dark room greets me, feeling around the wall beside the door, I find the light switch and switch it on. The room is bathed in a warm light, revealing racks full of clothing within. Mostly dress clothes, the same button down shirts and slacks on rack after rack. As I travel further into the closet, I find a shelf in the back full of shirts and other loungewear. Selecting a black shirt, I toss it over my head and throw my arms through the holes. The shirt swamps me, hitting below my knees. Logan’s musky smell assaults my senses as I bury my nose in the collar of his shirt. Turning around to head out of the closet, an ornate wooden box catches my eye on the shelf above the clothes.

Running my fingers along the gold filigree over the box, my curiosity peaks. I know I shouldn’t, but I grab the box down from the shelf anyway, holding it in my palms before carrying it out of the closet. Taking a seat on the plush gray carpet beside the bed, I set the box down in front of me. It’s made of mahogany wood with the initials LCM in cursive on the top. Assuming those are Logan’s initials, I crack the lid open, determine it’s not boobie trapped, then flip the lid open all the way. Folded papers and photos lie in a stack inside, some colored yellow from age while others have deep creases from being folded and unfolded so many times. Sorting through the many old photographs of Logan as a child, I find one in particular that pulls at my heartstrings. Logan is young, maybe five, and a young woman holds his hand as they walk through a meadow. Her honey blond hair sways in the wind, a smile plastered on her face and his. I set the photo on the floor beside me and pick up the crumpled papershoved into one corner of the box. Carefully I spread it out on the floor in front of me, reading the aged handwriting, a gasp leaving me.

Dear Logan,

I’m sorry it had to come to this. I loved you with everything in me, but you don’t know what love is. Your twisted version of love is what drove me away. I told you that she was yours, but I lied. I was a fool for thinking that you would change if you thought I was pregnant with your child. But, your love hurts, and I don’t want any part of it anymore. I’m not your little lamb, and neither is she.

–Shannon

By the time I finish the letter, my anger has peaked, rolling off of me in waves. This has to be the reason Logan wouldn’t let me in; he wouldn’t let himself feel anything for me. Whoever Shannon is, I hope she’s dead in a ditch somewhere. The thought makes me frown and my stomach roll with how much of a jealous girlfriend I sound like. Intent on reburying the past, I go to shove the letter back into the box when the sound of someone clearing their throat startles me, “Well, don’t stop on my account.” Logan looks down at me with amusement as I stare up at him with wide eyes, being caught red handed. My emotions were so high that I didn’t even hear him enter the room. Logan leans down to sit on the floor in front of me, the wooden box between us on the floor, reaching over and grabbing the photo that I placed next to me. He holds it in front of him, a faint smile spreading across his face. “This was my mother; she was beautiful. So happy and carefree, the day we lost her was the day I stopped caring about anything, about anyone.” I stay silent as he continues to speak of her with fondness. “Her name was Lucille. This box used to be hers—the only thing I have left ofher, actually. Shortly after this photo was taken, we found out that she had cancer. It started as just a spot on the skin of her shoulder and spread, destroying her body in it’s wake. Watching her die was the worst thing I ever experienced, and from then on I vowed to not care for someone like that again.” He sets the photo gently back in the box and reaches for the crumpled letter still sitting in front of me.

The look of love in his eyes transforms to hate almost instantly as he scans the letter. “Shannon was my step sister.” He looks up at me at my shocked gasp. Before I can say anything at all, he continues on, “My father married her mother when I was eighteen. She was thirteen, a tiny, shy little thing. My father ordered me to be the ‘best big brother’ to her, and to say I took that just a bit too literally is an understatement. I became obsessed with her, and not in a good way. I thought she loved me, but now I know it was all a lie. She was just biding her time until the day she could be rid of me. My genius plan to get back at her was to hurt the one thing she actually cared about, her daughter, but in truth, I don’t think she ever really cared about her either.” When he finishes, he tosses the paper aside, and we sit in comfortable silence while I digest what he told me. So many questions and emotions whirl around inside of me, and I’m not sure where to start.

“Fuck Shannon, she didn’t deserve you.” Spewing the hateful words out of my lips as I get to my feet and walk over to the window seat. Pulling my knees to my chest and leaning my head against them, staring out the window at the swaying trees. “You just wanted what everyone in the world wants—to be loved, to be cherished.”

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