Page 130 of Darling Wildfire
The van pulled up to the estate after the game. The men were escorted into the infirmary and I was taken directly to Vetticus who was sitting at his dining table eating dinner. I was naked and bloody, covered in mud and freezing cold from the storm. They kept my hands cuffed behind me and kicked me down to my knees.
Vetticus stood up, wiping his mouth and letting his gaze rove over my body. He grabbed my chin, leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I was still wound up tightly from the game and jerked away from him, only for him to bite my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. I hissed at him but he just chuckled and slid his tongue along my mouth, slowly licking away the pain. He pulled away with a hooded expression in his eyes and patted me roughly on the cheek.
“Pity about Kane,” he said. “I have one of the best trauma surgeons on call, we could have given it a good go at saving his life.”
I didn’t say anything, my anger already simmering just beneath the surface as I fought to keep myself in control.
“And then Phantom,” Vetticus shook his head. “That one would have hurt, I'm sure. Good thing Reaper was able to stop him.”
He looked at me as he said it. “They’re close, aren’t they?”
I know Nyx and Atlas had been being careful about exploring whatever sort of underlying feelings they felt for each other, not wanting Vetticus to use it against them. But Vetticus watched us excessively and for someone who knew us intimately, it wouldn’t be hard to tell there were deeper feelings there than just friendship.
“I should explore that,” Vetticus mused.
I could tell he was trying to get a rise out of me or some kind of confirmation he was right. I stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. This was how these visits normally went anyway. He would bait me thenabuse me and when he was done, and I was nearing unconsciousness, he’d tell me he loved me. That was more recent. Even more recent was him trying to get me to say it back to him.
He knelt behind me and ran his hands up my thighs to my cock and started stroking me.
“I like when you’re still dirty from the field,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. He shoved two fingers into my mouth, fish hooking my cheek and dragging my head back against his shoulder. I could feel the bulge already in his pants. “Covered in blood because of me.”
He removed his fingers and trailed them between my ass before pushing them inside me. I ground my teeth as he stretched me and stroked me at the same time. I wasn’t getting hard but his breathing picked up as he grew more aroused and his hands became rougher.
Releasing my cock, he grabbed my wrists and pulled up, forcing me to bend forward as the pain jolted through my shoulders. I heard his zipper and the sound of him spitting. It landed on my ass and with that as lube, he shoved inside me. He pushed me all the way forward onto the ground and drove inside me, gasping in pleasure.
“You’re going to bleed for me now too,” he panted.
I blocked it out and went somewhere else after that. Shoving the pain, humiliation and anger aside and instead thought about everything I was going to do to him when I got free. He meant to degrade me, take away my power and tarnish the person I knew myself to be.
Rape was control—rape was power.
Vetticus used it as a way to psychologically torture me but also because he truly thought he could get me to love him.
But I wasn’t normal.
I was just as fucked up as he was. Except he didn’t know how to manipulate the body with the intent of the mind catching up and I had every intention of not giving this demeaning experience any power.
Vetticus pushed my arms up further, the pain cutting through my thoughts as he used the leverage to push my face into the wood and drive into me in hard strokes. Then a burning sensation flashed across my back, once—twice—as he ran a knife across my skin. I struggled, trying to pull away, but it only made him hum in pleasure and redouble his efforts. He set the knife against my skin and slowly dug it in, making all my mental walls fall apart as he made another agonizingly slow cut across my back. I heard the knife clatter to the floor and then his fingers were scrubbing across the cuts.
“You were made for me,” he gasped.
His hips stuttered as he got close to the edge.
“Made for me—fuck—I love you…” he panted.
I broke out in a sweat and my own breathing was erratic as I tried to push the throbbing pain in my body out of my mind.
“Say it back,” he ground out.
I was silent.
“Say it back,” he demanded again.
Silence. The room was almost eerily quiet except for the sound of his movements.
Finally, he couldn’t hold out any longer and spilled inside me, groaning out another declaration of love for me. He pulled out but didn’t let me sit up.
“Say it back,” he panted.
