Page 27 of The Heart of Midnight

But as I watch her sleep in my bed, I can’t help but wonder if there’s still hope here. The things she said... yeah, maybe it was all in the name of self-preservation, but I know her. I know every dark, broken piece of her. There’s a chance she really meant it. A chance she could truly love me. A chance that we could be together.

If I’m a demon, false hope is the devil himself. What right do I have to expect love from something so beautiful? Even now, laying here in my t-shirt and stretched panties, hair falling over her face as drool drips down her chin, she’s stunning. She’s also all tied up with nowhere to go.

I’m on my feet before I can think twice about it and closing the distance between us. I have no intention of waking her up, but I have to have her at least one more time before my final decision is made and I have to take action. With her hands bound above her head, her body is already positioned perfectly for me. It’s nothing to cut her panties off with a knife and toss the shredded fabric aside. It’s almost too easy to spread her legs and work the baggy shirt up above her tits. And her face, well... this isn’t how I pictured tucking her hair behind her ear, but it’ll do.

Perfect Avery Valentine. Once seemingly out of reach, she’s now right here at my mercy and practically begging me to touch her. Begging me to mark her. Fuck, the thought of leaving her covered in marks is enticing. Bruises, cuts, bites... she wants to be able to look at them the next day, I can handle that.

I count her breaths to make sure she’s in a deep sleep then start on her hip, leaving a hickey there and trailing them down her thigh. When she doesn’t seem to notice, I bite a little harder to leave an imprint of my teeth behind, then slowly move back up her body creating art along the way.

By the time I get to her tits, I’m so fucking hard I can’t stand it. I’m afraid splitting her open will wake her up, but what the fuck do I care? I won’t stop, and her being awake will give me an excuse to make her bleed. Yet as I slide inside of her, she barely twitches. Still snoring softly with her mouth hanging open, she takes me like she was born to until I’m fully seated inside her soaked pussy and sucking her nipple into my mouth. Feeling it under my tongue makes my cock throb and my mind race. Would she hate me for this if she knew? Would she slap me and swear at me for touching her like this, for taking what I want from her, for using her body like she’s nothing more than a doll?

God, I hope so. Hate me, pretty girl. Show me that fucking fire.

“Pretty girl likes being used, doesn’t she?” I whisper, but she remains pliant under me even as I start to move, stays snoring softly as I kiss the corner of her mouth, lick her tongue, and drive myself deeper. I love when she’s awake and submitting to me on purpose, but this? Taking away her choice, doing things she has no idea about? There’s nothing else like it in the world.

My Avery.

Pulling out suddenly, I get to my feet and stare down at her body, at the way her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. I’ve done this too many times to count with my victims, laying there all lifeless and bloody, and it’s never been quite this good. They’ll never know what I did to them, but Avery? She’ll never forget.

Inching closer, I kneel on the bed next to her head and run the head of my cock over her chin. Her head is tilted the wrong way, so I grip her chin carefully and guide her mouth toward me, still open and begging to be violated. I can’t fuck her mouth right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stretch her jaw open and feel the heat of her tongue where I crave it most.

Seconds pass like this that turn into minutes. I can’t bring myself to move. She’s too perfect like this, too satisfying, and yet... I want more. I always want more.

Part of me wants to take her ass this way too but I know she can’t handle it without waking up. Instead, I settle back between her legs and stroke my cock as I inhale the scent of her pussy, fighting the urge to taste her. This isn’t about her pleasure. It’s about mine, and about reminding myself that while she may have figured me out, it’s only because I’ve claimed her in every way.

Avery Valentine is mine.

Fuck. I hit the edge and barely have time to lean up before I come. It spurts out, painting her pussy, her stomach, her tits. It’s everywhere, all over her, covering the hickeys I left and thebruises already decorating her skin from being so rough with her.

There isn’t an inch of her that doesn’t belong to me, and there never will be.

Avery Valentine ismine.

Eighteen

Avery

I can’t stop thinking about how thoroughly he owned me last night. He thinks I was asleep, and although I was for the first half, I woke up somewhere around when he slid into my mouth and had to ignore my throbbing clit for the rest of it.

It was everything I’ve craved, everything I’ve needed my whole life, and I don’t understand why he can’t see how perfect this is now. Neither of us have to hide anymore, and yet this giant man still has me shackled to the damn bed.

At least he’s here holding me this time.

When I felt him join me it was like a thousand butterflies erupted in my chest for a multitude of reasons. I already knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but now I’m beginning to feel like he wants to actually be with me too. Something I’ve wanted for a long time.

If I could, I’d lean in and kiss along his face, slide my fingers along his scruffy chin, and wake him up by sucking his cock into my mouth. But since I can’t, I squirm around to make him wake up, and then smile when his warm, brown eyes meet mine. “Morning, handsome.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” he mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I must’ve... passed out.”

“Mmhm,” I hum, trying to reach out only to be stopped short. “I’m happy you slept here. I slept much better.”

He pointedly doesn’t look at me. “Only you would learn to get comfortable in captivity.”

I can’t tell if he’s happy about that or judging me when he refuses to look at me, so I drop my gaze and curl into myself as much as I can. “Yeah, I guess so. I think it had more to do with the fact that I wasn’t alone. I was with you.”

“And that makes you feel better?” he asks. “I’d assume most people are more comfortable when they’re not sleeping next to the man who kidnapped them.”

“Most people aren’t kidnapped by someone they want to be kidnapped by. Guess I’m lucky.”

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