Page 85 of Moth to a Flame

“Such a good girl.” He pulls out, and I ready myself for what comes next.

I’ll have to tell Landon, eventually. When? I don’t know.

It’s easier to pretend that nothing was stolen from me.

That I’m as whole as I was the day I was born. I need it.

When Landon runs his fingers on my thigh, when he gathers his cum that’s leaking from me, I bite into my gag. I scream at my emotions internally, telling them to go back to that dark, sad place where I locked them.

“You’re soaked with my cum.” He flickers his gaze to me before he’s back to focusing on my pussy. “Except I don’t want it on your thighs.”

The dam holding back my emotional meltdown is fragile. The most fragile it’s ever been.

My nightmare, the gun play, the way I’m bound and helpless and in love.

That’s so much. That’s too much.

“I want it deep”—he pushes two soaked fingers into me—“in your pussy. Want to make you preg—”

Poof.

The second time he says it, the dam breaks. Dissolves. Burns into the ground.

Whole-body tremors come first. Then hitched breaths. Uncontrollable sobs.

Screams.

The gag falls out of my mouth.

I don’t care. I can’t care.

“Regan.”

Nothing. I’m nothing. I’m nothing.

I’m so empty.

The world turns black.

Empty. Empty. Empty.

“Regan!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Landon

These tears.

These aren’t happy tears.

Not cathartic tears.

The tortured, agonized sounds that come from somewhere deep within Regan make everything worse. My head pounds. My heart plummets to the floor.

I’ve never moved so fast in my life.

“Regan. I’m here. I’m here, Regan,” I shout to her as I free her from the ties. “Please, hold on. I’m coming.”

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