Page 10 of Prized Possession

Clearly, Sam isn’t very experienced, as he continues to squeeze my boob like it’s his very own stress ball, not at all interested in the nipple, which he doesn’t seem to realise is the part that gives me pleasure.

Luckily, once he’s had a grope of both tits, he lifts his hand onto my head. He grabs my long dark hair in one hand and flicks it over my left shoulder, so it’s all falling down the front, leaving my right shoulder bare. This was obviously his intention, as he wastes no time pressing his lips against my neck.

I freeze when his mouth makes contact with my flesh, and my racing heart combined with the bass creates a static buzzing noise in my ears. Nausea ripples through me, and I try to pull in a much needed breath.

Remember where you are!

I keep repeating the instructions over and over in my head, trying to prevent the nightmares from invading my waking mind.

Sam is none the wiser that I’ve stopped dancing, or that I’m frozen to the spot. He continues peppering kisses along my neck as he grinds his cock against my arse, his fingers digging into my hip, tight enough to bruise.

I try not to focus on the bite of his grip, or him rutting against me, but it’s no use. All I can feel is his mouth on my throat. The way he kisses, licks, and sucks on my neck, like he’s trying to leave his mark on me for all to see. I want to push him away, but I’m too frozen to move.

As he bites down on my neck, harder than I was expecting, I cry out in pain. My noise is drowned out by the sounds of the nightclub, and given all the people on the dance floor, I may as well be invisible.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. You’re gonna look so good with my cock down your throat,” he whispers into my ear in between bites.

His breath hits me, and the smell of beer, smoke, and something almost rancid makes my stomach roll. Nausea hits me in extreme waves, and I’m starting to panic that I might vomit in the middle of this dance floor.

Normally, I concentrate on my breathing until the sickness passes, but I can’t do that this time. If I get another whiff of his revolting scent, I won’t be able to hold back.

His words, combined with the sleazy way he kisses me, makes me feel dirty, and the ants under my skin are back. I want to itch at them, scratching away until I can’t feel them anymore.

I gave up on trying to get my skin clean a long time ago, and have since just settled for keeping the ants at bay—something I’m failing at right now.

A drop of moisture hits my cheek, and I didn’t even realise a tear had escaped, until I felt it tracking down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, hoping that will prevent any more from falling.

Do something, Chloe. Don’t just fucking stand there like a coward—again. Fucking fight!

My brain yells at me, trying to give me the courage I need to move, but it’s pointless. I’m too frozen with fear, lost to the nightmares of the past and the potential horrors of my future.

I try to close my mind off completely, to give in to the inevitable, when everything changes.

The hands and lips that were dominating me are gone, and without the support of Sam’s body holding me in place, I collapse to the ground. Before I can make contact with the sticky floor, strong arms grab hold of me. Once I’ve found my feet, they release me.

I quickly open my eyes, blinking under the brightness of the strobe lights. My vision focuses just in time for me to see a fist make contact with Sam’s face. Blood bursts from his nose and he hits the floor like he weighs nothing.

I lift my gaze to see Marcus standing over him, his hands balled into fists, his body practically vibrating with rage. His face is contorted into a snarl, anger dripping from him in droves.

His bodyguard, Miles, is pulling him back, whispering something into his ear that seems to help him calm down. He takes a few deep breaths, his fingers twitching as he tries to loosen his fists.

Sam is unconscious on the floor, but before he has a chance to wake up, the club security guards pick him up in a less than gentle way.

The crowd seems frozen, watching the events unfold. It’s at that moment that Marcus realises we have many eyes on us, and he seems to compose himself. Drawing his shoulders back, he runs a hand down his body, straightening out creases that are not there.

All the anger and rage I saw a moment ago is now gone, and the mask of indifference he seems to wear constantly is back in place. He looks perfectly composed, and that’s how he wants to appear. To almost everyone, he’s pulling it off, but under the gaze of someone who has been watching him for a very long time, I can see the cracks in his perfect facade.

Once Miles is sure Marcus is back in control, he releases his hold on him. Miles says something to him that I can’t hear, and their gaze flicks over to me. Marcus’ eyes darken, anger flashing in them, but unlike with Sam, I’m not scared.

He stalks towards me, closing the small distance between us before he grabs the top of my arm. His grip on me is tight enough it will probably add to the other bruises I’ll have on my skin after tonight.

I wait for my body to freeze, for my heart to race, for fear to overtake me the way it always does when a man touches me like this, but it doesn’t come. His grip feels warm, and my skin tingles in a way I never expected.

Before I can register that thought too much, Marcus begins walking away, dragging me with him. His gaze is still locked on mine as he leads me through the crowd of people, not even bothering to look where he’s going. People move for him, giving him the respect he’s earned in his own club.

People may not know the real business Marcus and Jacob are in, but they know enough to have a healthy fear of the pair. Marcus has earned it just by the dangerous vibe he exudes.

I should be terrified that he’s turning all his anger on me. I should be running a mile given the dangerous glint in his eyes. Yet I don’t—I can’t. There’s something about this man that’s almost magnetic, and I’m drawn to him—danger and all.

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