Page 8 of Marked
The way he looked at me, like he was sizing me up—not just as a person, but as something far more intimate—made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I could feel his gaze tracking my every move, his intensity radiating like heat.
Almost like he wasn’t human.
Maybe he was a monster. That would explain the healing thing… Or maybe I was just so fucking aroused that my mind was playing tricks on me. Even now, I could still feel my desire pumping through my veins, could still feel how sore my ass was from his punishment and how wet I still was from everything he’d already done to me.
Slowly, he took my leather jacket and pushed it down and over my shoulders. His fingers grazed my skin, and it felt like he’d branded me with fire. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed up at him. My jacket fell to the floor, the sound of the leather hitting the hardwood noisy in the silence. He lifted one strap ofmy tank from my shoulder, and I expected him to gently undress me. But he didn’t.
Quickly, he tore the first strap and then the other. He shredded my black tank top right off me, as though it was a sheet of paper, the threads ripping easily under his strength. He took the strips he’d torn and bound my wrists with them. Already bested and without any sort of weapon to defend myself, I didn’t fight.
I wanted to, but something deep inside me forced me to stay still. To not react. Because some sick and twisted part of me wanted to see what he would do next. And if it would make me even wetter than I already was. If it would make me come harder than I ever thought possible.
Fucking hell. I was losing it.
He gripped my wrists in one hand, lifting them up and over my head as he shoved my back into the wall. A strangled cry escaped my lips, and I quickly slammed them back together, cutting off the sound before it turned into something else. At the same time, he forced my thighs open with his leg. My pussy pulsed against thick muscle, and I whimpered, mostly in fear but also with very intense desire.
He kissed me hard. I kissed him back. I didn’t want to, but I did anyway.
His lips were rough, unforgiving, and bruising against mine, and I didn’t even care. Every inch of my mouth grew tender under his harsh treatment, but my hips rolled shamefully against his thigh, pressing my clit against him in an effort to make myself come as he held me captive. His other hand curled underneath my bra, right in between my breasts, and he pulled his lips from mine.
“This is going to hurt, baby doll, and it’s going to hurt a lot. Before the night is through, there isn’t going to be a single inch of your body that hasn’t felt my touch. That hasn’t been marked as mine,” he purred softly, and I could have sworn my insides did a somersault. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all.
He tore my bra in two. My breasts bounced free, and my nipples hardened almost instantly. He made swift work of the rest of the thin lacey fabric, and it took no time at all for him to completely bare my upper half to his view.
Then he leaned down and lifted one of my legs from the floor, throwing me off balance as he did so. I leaned against his thigh in order to steady myself, and at the same time, he quickly divested me of my black boot and sock. He released me and turned toward the opposite leg, doing the same to my other foot.
My lower half was the only part of me that was covered now. I had on jeans and the dark blue panties I was wearing beneath them. He still held my wrists above my head, ensuring that I couldn’t cover up my naked breasts even if I wanted to. My chest heaved up and down with anxiety and nervous arousal. My nipples felt like hard, painful pebbles of tenderness, and I yearned for him to touch them.
He traced a single finger down the side of my cheek, then my throat, until his roughened palm slid over my nipple. I stared up and him and bit my lip, forcing back a breathy sigh before he ventured down even further to edge along the hem of my jeans.
“Keep those hands up high over your head,” he commanded, his hand releasing my wrists as he looked down at my bared body.
His fingertips grazed along my hipbone, a teasing, whispered touch that sent a shiver down my spine. He traced the waistband of my jeans with deliberate slowness, following the curve of my body, letting anticipation coil in the air between us. When his hand reached the center, just beneath the lone button keeping my jeans snug against my hips, he hesitated for only a second—a heartbeat of silence that felt like an eternity. Then, with a sharp, effortless pull, the button popped free, bouncing once before vanishing into the shadows.
The denim parted instantly, the pressure of the fabric releasing as my jeans burst open. His fingers slid lower, curling around the zipper, and without pause, he yanked it down with a rough precision, the sound cutting through the quiet. The teeth of the zipper separated, the fabric gaping wide, exposing the sliver of bare skin beneath.
He didn’t stop. His hands found the waistband again, gripping the thick fabric tightly before forcing my jeans over the swell of my hips, dragging them down my thighs with a controlled urgency. The denim resisted, clinging to my legs as if reluctant to let go, but he was relentless, pushing them lower, past my knees, until they pooled at my ankles in a crumpled heap.
Once my thighs were mostly free, he tightened his grip on the stubborn denim, his fingers digging into the fabric. Without warning, he gave a sharp, brutal yank. The sound of tearing cloth filled the air. The jeans split apart under his strength, the fibers surrendering, fraying edges curling as he tore them clean in two.
With a rough, almost impatient motion, he wrenched the ruined fabric from each leg, dragging the remnants down my calves before tossing them aside.
I stood before him in nothing more than my panties now.
He slid that single finger down the front of my already very sensitive pussy, right over the top of the thin fabric that covered that very private part of me. It almost felt like the cloth wasn’t there at all.
He cupped his hand and pressed it against my tender flesh, and I moaned with shame, knowing that he could probably feel just how aroused I was, how hot I was between my thighs for no one else but him.
“Do you think you’re going to be allowed to keep this pretty little pussy covered, Kendra?” he whispered in my ear, and a heated shiver raced down my spine.
“Probably not,” I breathed, my voice trembling with nervous desire. I closed my eyes and arched into his touch, unable to quell the rising arousal simmering deep in my core. I was so turned on that it was almost starting to hurt. My pussy clenched and my clit pulsed, reminding me just how desperately I wanted to orgasm and how much I wanted him to make me.
It was like I was going into heat.
“Definitely not, baby doll,” he murmured, and my body temperature felt like it had risen another ten degrees just from the dark promise in his tone. I wasn’t brave enough to look up at him, so I stared at the floor instead. He dragged the tips of his fingers against the hem of my panties, making me exceedingly aware of the fact that they were the only piece of clothing on my mostly naked body. My thighs trembled, and I was suddenly glad for his thigh between my legs because my legs would have probably given out beneath me.
I was so aroused that I could hardly stand it.
His fingers moved again, and I watched them as they took hold of my panties. Almost in horror, I continued to stare as they were ripped away from my body. The sound of splitting fabric filled the room, and I cried out as the cloth pinched harshly at my skin, but that didn’t stop him. In fact, it only seemed to make him tear at my underwear faster and more ruthlessly than before. In seconds, he’d ripped them from my body, leaving me completely and utterly bare before him.
