Page 56 of Pen Pal

Mark sighed, dragging his fingers down my neck in a caress. “That’s what I used to love about you,” he admitted. “That fire, just so I could snuff itout.”

His knuckles brushed over my collarbone, the touch so light it sent a sick shiver of revulsion down my spine. I bit my tongue, trying not to recoil. I knew how he was; he wanted a reaction and fed off my fear.

“I always liked you best when you were soft for me,” he whispered, dragging the gun up my thigh slowly, making me squirm. The barrel pressed against the inside of my thigh, just above the hem of my shirt, stretched out in the front where he grabbed and pulled at it to force me close to him.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“That’s the thing about you, Amara,” he confessed. “You act all strong, but I know the real you.” His free hand trailed over my belly, ribs, and breasts, testing. “You’re a broken little doll, unable to function without me. You used tobegfor my touch.”

A tremor of disgust rolled through me.

“You used to love me.”

“Not anymore,” I snapped, the venom evident in my hoarse voice.

Mark went still, and his gun pressed into my thigh, enough to leave a bruise. “We’ll see.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over mine, mocking me. I snapped my teeth at him, and he recoiled, and my stomach twisted as bile burned inmy throat. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to, sweetheart.”

Terror wrapped around my ribs like a snake because I knew Mark and that he always made good on his threats.

Mark backed away from the chair, rolling his shoulders like this was a tense meeting at work. “I could just end your miserable, worthless existence,” he informed, gesturing to his gun. “But not before I have a little fun with you first.”

My stomach turned to ice.

He crouched before me, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear with a sickening, foreign gentleness. “You don’t know what pain is yet, sweetie.”

Tears burned at the edges of my vision, but I refused to let them fall; I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. It would only fuel him to do more and drive him to be crueler.

His smile widened, something gleeful lighting his gaze. “But don’t worry,” he promised, slowly and deliberately dragging the cold steel up the inside of my thigh. “I’ll show you.”

A sob escaped, my chest caving with fright. The ropes bit into my skin as I struggled uselessly, and Mark’s laughter echoed through the bedroom.

I was stuck and vulnerable, and Mark would relish every second of it.

Mark took a knife, and I recognized it from my kitchen. He sliced at the skin just mid-thigh, and I whimpered, fighting the ropes.

He smirked, pressing his finger in the wound, digging under my skin as I screamed. He laughed, lifting his bloodied finger to my clit, stroking it, lubing me up with my own blood.

“I’m going to force you to come on your own blood,” he grinned, swirling his other fingers through the blood as he shoved them between my thighs. “You’re going to fucking love it.”

My thigh and hole throbbed with pain, and I bit my lip, trying to hold back my screams of agony as he relentlessly assaulted me. His caresses grew sickeningly tender, stroking me in practiced, routine ways, just like he did when we were still married.

Just like he stopped doing years ago, only caring about his own pleasure.

The fact that he remembered infuriated me. I told myself that he forgot, and that’s why he didn’t pleasure me anymore in our marriage bed. This was proof that he knew, but he just didn’t care. He only wanted to hurt me, and this proved it.

My pleasure was a weapon he could use against me now,so he wielded it.

He rubbed my clit furiously, pausing to dip his finger back in my trickling blood before he continued. With the nonstop stimulation, my body had no choice, and when I contracted around his fingers, his depraved laugh made me gag as the treacherous pleasure flooded over me.

“Now you’re nice and wet for me,” he groaned, pressing his prick against me.

I tried to stay strong. But as he slid into me, the aftershocks of my forced pleasure still simmering, tears slid from my eyes as the robes chafed against my skin. He continued his stubborn movements, getting off to my body’s betrayal as he jammed in me and rubbed me so hard he could start a fire on my sensitive nub.

I contracted around him, shuddering in revulsion as forbidden satisfaction buzzed in my pelvis, and I sobbed as he laughed at me, enjoying my torment.

I broke.

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