Page 20 of Twisted

She sniffled and wept as he brought the knife forth again, cutting through the straps of her tank top as well as her bra. As the tendrils of lace floated to the ground, a buttery yellow heap mingled with dirt, she felt her hope flicker and die. She was bared to him physically. She couldn’t be mentally, emotionally—never.

Again, his rough hands found her sides before they skimmed up and over her pert breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, rolling her nipples between his deft thumb and forefinger. Strikes of lightning erupted within her at his fiery touch. She’d never been caressed or toyed with in such a way before, and it was making her head spin.

He leaned in, lips at her ear, minty breath fanning over her cheek as he pinched one nipple hard enough to make her squeak.

“Tell me, Maisie. I’ll go easy on ya if you tell me.”

She pursed her lips, pressing them together as she shook her head. If she told him, if he saw and read the things she’d done—he’d kill her. There was another slight problem with the second hard drive; their camera system backed up to the one at Carter’s office, meaning her fake one was in threat if someone found the real one. She didn’t know who he was or what side he was on, but she knew this strange infatuation would end and he would kill her or turn her over to the police or give her up to the shady people Carter and Randy did dealings with.

He pulled away with a sigh, dropping his eyes and his hands to the button on her jeans. She hid her face behind her arm as he yanked her pants down, placing his boot on the fabric bunched around her ankles to keep her planted. She could hear the tinkling of metal—the clasp of his belt buckle, his zipper descending.

“Wanted ya for a while now,” he said, his words curious.

Sobering, Maisie brought her face around to his, carefully keeping her eyes upward and on his archangel face. Once locked, she could see—yet again—the darkness in his gaze. He was serious. She was curious, but she was too resigned at this point. Shaking her head, blinking away tears, she gave the damning signal, condemning herself to an unknown hell.

He was quick, stepping forward between her legs, discarding his knife to grip her thighs and force them around his hips as she clung to the cuffs and hung from the branch. She could feel his rigidness, long and throbbing. She’d only ever been with Carter—somewhat willingly. But in comparison to those who’d pillaged and plundered her body, this man was another matter altogether as far as sheer size was concerned.

He groaned as he lined himself up, and she bit her lip, feeling how wet she was. She would be lying if she said raw excitement and heady desire didn’t shoot through her at the feel of the tip of his heavy cock probing her tight entrance. He pulled her closer, until their bodies met, until his embrace almost felt familiar…

“How do you know me?” She croaked as her last distraction, yanking her hips away as best she could. “Who are you?”

Their eyes caught, their noses touching, his cheekbones shading his face, casting it all in darkness. But she could still see it, the glint of euphoria. He wanted her—wanted her badly, desperately, like a man in the desert aches for a single drop of water. And to be desired in such a way was…new.

“I’ve known ya a while, pretty girl.”

His words sent ripples of pleasure through her, and each time his voice lilted, his tip inched further into her now dripping channel. He meant what he said, she could tell. He’d called her pretty. Not sexy, hot, beautiful. Pretty, as though she were innocent, her hands white instead of stained black with sin.

But she was still confused, and she shook her head, about to voice it when he beat her to it.

“You’ve known me a while, too. But that don’t matter now, got it?” he growled, closing himself off as his cock twitched. Her lips trembled. She held his eyes just as she held her breath. Embarrassment—white-hot—flooded her as she felt her arousal coat the insides of her thighs. Carter’d hated how wet she got, sent her to different specialists to fix that ‘problem,’ and they’d all given Maisie the same sympathetic look;your husband is an asshole, their eyes had told her.

She found herself withdrawing, needing a distraction, for as terrified as she was for what was happening and about to happen, the damaged part of her brain worried he’d feel the same; she was too wet, too tight, too loose, too…whatever else she could be. Gritting her teeth, her heart palpitating like a hummingbird’s wings, she spoke.

“Please…please, if you’re going to…to do this…may I know your name?”

She was stalling, avoiding the conflicting emotions in her gut. She wanted him to bury himself so deep in her that it hurt. Wanted his handprints to smatter her ass, wanted his fingerprints and bite marks to mar her skin. She wanted to bear the brunt of her punishment, be absolved of her sins by this man—this man who was devastatingly handsome and strong and calculated. He leaned in, his lips hovering over hers.

“Jaeger,” he whispered, burying his cock so deep in her their hip bones kissed as well in greeting.

Maisie lurched forward with a gasp at the intrusion, eyes blinded by stars as her fingers curled around the cuffs and her legs willingly wrapped around his narrowed hips. Her shoulders bit into the bark of the tree behind her, but she leaned into all the pain, for in it she found freedom—pleasure.

“My God, Maisie Jane,” he breathed against her, cheek to cheek. He was still, not thrusting, not moving at all, but it was somehow even more erotic to simply feel herself filled to a capacity she hadn’t known was possible, stretched painfully wide to accommodate his girth. Every breath he took, every pulse of blood thumping from his heart—she could feel it deep inside her, and she took it all.

Her lips trembled, and a small whimper exited from her throat. This man—Jaeger—pulled away slightly, keeping his cock deep within her. Their eyes caught for a brief moment, but Maisie—too embarrassed, too conflicted—tore her gaze away, shuddering. Slow, he withdrew himself, leaving her empty, void—leaving her aching for him to be back inside her, to make her feel whole again, for that, she realized, was exactly how he was making her feel. Whole. Filled to the brim. Alive. A sinner repenting, this man absolving. She both needed and wanted him, and as her eyes fell to the charred ground, to the ash and debris leftover from years of trauma, she knew it was over.

That part of her life—the absolute nightmare it had been—wasover. Jaeger thrust back into her, slamming his hips so hard all her thoughts scattered with the cry on her ruby lips. Her forehead fell to his sturdy shoulder as he began to relentlessly fuck into her, leaving her breathless, her mind a static television screen, buzzing and unable to find the right frequency. His long fingers bit into the backs of her thighs, keeping her planted to him from the front while the tree held her from the back. There was no escaping his wrath, and she could feel it building, blossoming as he grew rougher, her cries splintering the wilderness and punctuating the sunny summer day with drops of darkness.

“You ever let another man touch you after today, Maisie Jane, I’ll bury ‘im six feet under, you get me?” He growled, reaching up to harshly trap her cheeks with one hand and force her watery gaze to his. She was floating, his cock coaxing from deep within her something she’d never felt before. Before she knew what she was agreeing to, she bobbed her head, her wide eyes trapped by his, his face contorted in uncontrolled fury. She knew, by his eyes alone, that he was telling the truth. He’d kill—probablyhadkilled before.

“And after I bury him,” Jaeger panted, deepening his strokes. She gasped at the change, feeling every centimeter of him, the veins lining his cock strumming along inside her. She blinked, trying in vain to focus on his words.

“Then I come for you, baby doll. Bend you over, give you my belt, make you remember why you’re now mine.”

His words rang with familiarity—words Carter had spoken to Maisie on their first date. Words and actions, Maisie now realized, had been nothing short of manipulative. Even after everything, she struggled to call that night for what it was; rape. She’d told him to wait, that it had hurt, and though he’d gained all the pleasure, the only thing she’d been given was a narcissistic villain who would rule her life for the next eight years.

At those words, at the memories that bubbled up in her mind, she pressed her lips together, pinched her wide blue eyes shut. Her legs sagged, and she pulled her hips away and to the side as best she could. Hot tears raced down her cheeks, and she used her little feet to push at his shins, his thighs, whimpers and pleas leaving her lips unbeknownst to her.

Before she realized it, her feet were planted firmly on the ground, her hands un-cuffed, her back still to the tree, his long, lean body still pressed to hers. She could feel his slippery cock plastered to her pelvis, running along the ridge of her hip bone. She blinked a few more times, dazed. He’d stopped, pulled out. He clearly hadn’t finished.

---