Page 24 of Twisted

“You—” she hissed.

He reached up quick, trapping her cheeks, pinching them together tight enough that she whimpered in pain. As soon as the nerve endings in her cheeks told her brain there may be something wrong, it also sent a tidal wave of arousal through her. His rough hands were verging on hot, and the very fingers that had gently cleansed his seed from deep within her were now on her face, brutally strong and mercilessly unrelenting.

“Don’t piss me off,” he hissed back, his shoulders bunched up and tense.

“You touch one hair on any o’ their heads, I’ll chop your balls off and shove ‘em down your gullet, you fucker,” she spat through her clenched cheeks. He t’sked at her, a slow, wicked smile curling onto his lips. With a shake of his head, he released her, fishing in his jeans for the key. Fear rippled through her, subtly reminding her that okay, maybe she sort of was afraid to die.

He unlocked her, hoisting her up as he tossed aside the cuffs.

“Where—”

“Maisie girl, you’re not in my good graces at the moment, so best keep that pretty little mouth shut or I’d be more than happy to find something long and hard to make you shut up.”

Her eyes widened on his, and she audibly gulped. He smirked in smug satisfaction. Leading her to the back of the cabin, her panic began to mount. She didn’t know this man, and though he’d been a little rough, she wasn’t sure what else to expect. Her fear, though, kept her quiet enough, and they emerged from a tight, dark hall and into a spacious master bedroom.

She blinked a few times in surprise. The cabin was all log and masculine in every aspect, but it was clear someone—and she refused to believe it had been Jaeger—had completely remodeled the room. It was light, airy, a huge bed dominating the space, a floor to ceiling window and sliding door overlooking a tiny porch and the forest beyond. But they didn’t stop to admire, and she was ushered instead into a wide bathroom, another clearly remodeled space.

The tile was subway, white and clean, though a few looked crooked, and it was then she realized he’d likely done all of this handiwork himself. She hated admitting she was impressed; she’d never tell him, though. The only words reserved for him would be mordacious in nature.

Releasing her wrist, he reached for the hem of her shirt, and Maisie backed up until her shoulders hit the wall. She’d been exposed to him enough. But as his glinting, malicious eyes fell to hers, she froze, lips trembling. She was starving. Thirsty. Exhausted, both mentally and physically. But she wasn’t defeated, not yet.

“Don’t you touch me again,” she hissed. She was answered by a dark smirk, his bright green eyes flashing with something sinister, a side she had unwittingly released with her disobedience. He paused, looming over her, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Reaching for the shirt regardless, he removed it swiftly, tossing it aside. Immediately, her nipples pebbled in the cool bathroom, and she hugged herself against his gaze and the chill.

“Been a bad girl, Maisie Jane. Killed two men. Framed an innocent woman.”

Maisie sneered, fire igniting in her chest.

“That bitch is as guilty as sin itself,” she growled, holding her own.

His eyes flickered briefly. He seemed…intrigued. Even more interested and invested. Fuck, she thought. Fuck fuck fuck. Keep your mouth shut. She’d given away too much already.

“Wanna expand on that?” he said with a quirk of his arched brow. She sneered back up at him, obstinate, until his eyes raked over her nude form. She could feel them, like gentle hands caressing her curves, lingering on her hips. Her heart hammered at the clear lust in his glossed eyes, and he reached up his thumb, pressing it to his pinkish lips, as though to keep his drool locked away. She erupted in shivers, and despite everything, all her body could seem to focus on were those climaxes, the intensity of them even more potent in thanks to her dire situation.

The constant fear and adrenaline had seemed to heighten all her senses, and she ached between her legs as the remnants of him still painted her inner thighs. He cleared his throat, snapping her back to attention. She clenched her jaw, hating herself, hating him, hating that he’d been the only man to make her feel everything she’d ever dreamed of feeling and more. Hated that she wanted it again.

Hated that when he said she was his, a sick part of her bowed in submission and silently prayed for more. But even if she wanted more, the other side of her—the damaged part, she thought with disdain—would never allow it. She knew she would clam up, retreat, search for safety in solitude, for only then could she be truly free.

“No,” she choked out finally. He snorted.

“Thought so.”

Turning and rummaging below the sink, he tossed a few things to the long counter. Maisie waited with short puffs of breath, watching him and herself in the mirror, glancing to her side out the window at the quiet chimes of what sounded like bells as the wind breezed through the boughs. She wondered if her parents were on their way home. If they’d tried to call. Her heart sank, knowing she’d likely never see them or Marie or her niece and nephew ever again.

She was snapped back to reality when he moved forward with a length of rope. She realized her lapse in concentration was about to cost her, and she burst to the side toward the door in a brazen attempt to escape. He caught her easily with a dark chuckle as she growled and hissed and kicked. Capturing her wrist, tying her tight and then running the rest to the foot of the tub, he forced her to bend at the waist to accommodate the height difference. Her breathing turned more rapid. He was tying her up…naked…in his bathroom…and though it should have frightened her more than it aroused her, it didn’t.

God, she was fucked up, and she was beginning to see just how badly.

“Gonna have to be quicker and smarter ‘an that, doll,” he said, a teasing note to his aggravating words.

Once that wrist was tied off, he repeated his actions with the other, tying her to the base of the toilet. Her arms spread wide, her waist bent, she was pretty well stuck in her position, but he came forward with a third length, tying it around her hips and somehow anchoring her to the wall behind. She couldn’t bend down further, couldn’t sit to alleviate her already aching back and legs.

He stepped forward again, cupping her chin almost reverently, bringing her eyes up. He was closed off, no smile, no humor—only a coldness, a hollow, steely gaze. She sensed that being forced to stand in this position had a reason, and her stomach clenched in fear as her sex throbbed. She craved his control, his dominance, even if she knew she didn’t want it. Her head was mush at this point. She didn’t know what the fuck she wanted other than for her original plan to have worked.

“Since you’re not too keen to talk, I have something that’ll loosen your jaw,” he said, his voice dark, deep and gravelly. She gulped, swallowing hard against his rough hand. He let her go, and her eyes widened in stark fear as he picked up his last sinister torture device from the counter; a ball and gag. Only, the ball was much, much too wide for her small mouth. She strained against the ropes, bucking her hips, twisting her wrists, but they only burned and cinched tighter. Whimpering, she shook her head, feeling tears of frustration threaten.

He reached for her again, fingers digging into her cheeks and jawbone, his eyes set in stone. A few tears escaped. Helpless. Hopeless. It was how she’d felt with Carter all those years. She’d finally found some sense of peace and freedom, only to have it stripped away by yet another man. She hated, for the first time in her life, being a woman, being something others automatically saw as weak. She wasn’t weak. She could endure this, and she’d kill this bastard, too.

“Last chance, Maisie. Where’s the second hard drive?”

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