Page 40 of Soul Of A Villain

“Nothing. I-I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

He laughed at the blatant lie. “Someone is looking for a punishment this morning. I don’t like when you lie to me.”

The way her insides clenched, her channel getting wetter with his threat, was the stuff of nightmares. She couldn’t even cry out in protest. Not with his mouth moving over hers, his tongue diving and searching out all her secrets.

“Tell me, little dove. What nightmares keep you awake at night? Hmm? Tell me. I really want to know. Is it because your body responds to me?” His hand slid from her waist to her butt cheek. Squeezing one rounded globe, he chuckled when she gasped into his mouth. “Is it how your cunt is so wet, I can feel it soaking into my skin? Or is it the way your nipples are hard and begging for my mouth? Are those the nightmares you suffer from?”

Dipping his head, he took the tip of one breast into the burning heat of his mouth, his teeth gripping her nipple so that his tongue could flick it. When her hands clutched his hair, trying to dislodge him, Oliver moved his arm from beneath the pillows and anchored both her wrists in his hand. Jerking them above her head, he held her in place as he continued tasting her.

“Be still, dove. Or I’ll have to tie you down.” Sharp teeth nipped tender flesh, and Londyn whimpered. It felt so good that her head was spinning.

“I’m waiting for your answer. I told you my secrets last night. Now, I want to hear yours.” His mouth moved to her other breast, rolling the nipple between his teeth. Then he laved it with his tongue, soothing the sting. “Nightmares, Londyn. Tell me what scares you. Tell me what you’ve suffered. Tell meeverything.”

Londyn shook her head, lips tight with stubborn denial.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” he chuckled. “Don’t you want to share like I did last night?”

“So you can use it against me?” she bristled.

Oliver’s head lifted, his eyes boring into hers, his jaw set with determination. “Isn’t that what you plan to do? Use my words against me? Exploit any weakness I might have?”

Londyn looked away from the accusation in his eyes. “I wanted to help you.”

His hands tightened around her wrists. “And you did. After all, you’re still alive, aren’t you? I didn’t kill you in your sleep, and now”—his hips shifted so that she could feel his cock against the side of her thigh— “tell me about your nightmares so I can fuck you.”

Londyn trembled as Oliver pushed her onto her back. Rolling on top of her, he easily spread her legs using the width of his body. She tried bucking him off, but it was impossible. He was so much bigger. So much stronger. Tears pricked her eyes as her worst fears became reality. Whatever this man wanted to do, he would succeed. Her brain, her looks, not even her education in understanding the sociopathic mind would stop this. A helpless sob escaped her as he hovered over her, his gaze searching hers.

“You told me you entered that auction because you needed to take care of your sister the way she took care of you. You said she protected you,” Oliver murmured. He still held her hands above her head, the way he regarded her almost tender.

“Paris shielded me many times from danger when we were growing up.” Londyn’s throat closed with the admission of Paris’s sacrifices. Whenever one of their mother’s numerous boyfriends began showing too much attention toward her, Paris always found a way to gain their interest. How often had Londyn been awakened by Paris slipping out of the room, her hand held tightly by whatever man was living with them? Hours would pass before her sister would crawl from under the smothering weight of the covers. Cheeks wet with tears; Paris’s hand would find Londyn’s. Squeezing it, she conveyed without words that they were safe for the time being. And when some men proved more persistent than others, the two sisters would hide in the woods surrounding the trailer park.

“Go on. Tell me more. I want to know just what frightens you. I want to know what chases you when you close your eyes,” Oliver said. “I know my demons, Londyn. I fight them every night. Do you know yours? Are you brave enough to say them out loud?”

Londyn’s chin rose at the challenge.

“I have nightmares of being buried alive. It’s awful. Terrifying. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. It’s pitch black, and things move around me. But I must be still. I can’t make a sound because if I do, the monster will find me.”

Londyn closed her eyes, suffocated by memories. Those moments waiting for her sister to return were dark and heavy. In her mind, burrowing beneath the covers to escape the boogie man was the same as being buried alive. It wasn’t that she was afraid of enclosed spaces. And she certainly wasn’t scared of the dark. But thoughts of being smothered, of not being able to see the danger, had imparted claustrophobic fear she could never fully overcome.

“My mom… our mom was an alcoholic. Drank every day. Couldn’t hold down a job for long. She would disappear for days and then show up with a new boyfriend. Sometimes, they were nice. Most of them were not. Paris would… She made sure I was never abused in the same way she was. I would take a beating here and there, but I never went through what she did. She took the brunt of it all, and later, when Mom was dying, Paris worked two jobs to pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads. I was a senior in high school. She gave up her own hopes and dreams so I could go to college. She stayed behind and took care of our mom. I owe her my life. Whatever is left of it, anyway.”

“These men you mentioned… What are their names?”

Oliver’s tone was darker than any other time he’d ever spoken to her. It was the voice of a killer. A reaper of souls. Londyn shivered, wondering how many men had heard him speak before taking their last breath.

“I was young. There were so many over the years that I can hardly recall first names. My mom collected men as a hobby. None of them ever lasted long enough to become a permanent part of our lives. Why would you want their names, anyway? It’s not as if they’ll ever be held accountable for what they did to us.”

“I want names so I can track each one down and put a bullet between their eyes. Consider it another aspect of your sister’s care. I’ll do the same for that fucking sheriff if you tell me he abused or threatened you, too. And I don’t care if it happened before I bought you or after. Any man who dares touch what is mine… who dares to touch you… I will slit his fucking throat and make him drink his own blood.”

Oliver kissed her with such savagery that it took her breath away. Londyn was shaking from her confession and the intensity of his kiss when he stripped the covers away, baring their bodies to the cool air. Releasing her hands, he slid down her body, his mouth worshipping the fullness of her breasts, the smooth flesh of her stomach, and the soft curves of her hips. Reaching her pussy, his fingers spread her wide so he could see just how wet she was. Londyn flushed with shame.

How could she find any of this exciting or pleasurable? She had no say in what would happen. No voice. No rights. The fact she was sinking into his possessiveness was horrifying.

“Please…” She did not even know what she was begging for. Did she want him to stop? Or was it a plea that he continue doing whatever he wanted with her?

Oliver grinned as her hands clutched his shoulders. “I like the sound of you begging, dove. As long as it’s for me to keep going. Anything else, and I’m afraid I’ll have to gag that pretty mouth.” Rising to his knees, he gripped her hands again, holding them against the ridged muscles of his abdomen. “I don’t like being touched when I’m fucking a woman, but for you, I might make an exception. But leaving your hands free will bother you a hell of a lot more than if I tie you up. Do you know why? Because being restrained makes you the victim. You can fight and scream. Tell yourself you did everything to get away. But it won’t hide the truth that you are dripping for me, will it? When I shove my cock into you, your body will welcome me. When I fuck you without mercy,you’llwelcome the pain and the humiliation of knowing you want this as much as me.”

He released her wrists, watching as they slowly fell to her sides. They stared at each other as Londyn’s chest rose with panicked breaths. She refused to look at the part of him straining toward her center. She could not admit that everything he said was true. She ached for him. Even after the multiple orgasms he’d forced on her, she wanted more. It was like she was addicted to him.

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