Page 14 of Room Eighteen: My Pain, Their Pleasure

My heart is fully on board, it feels like it’s finally gotten everything it’s been craving, times three. I’ve been hooked on Aiden, Brooks and Cameron from the moment I walked into Misfit Tattoos and applied for the job. It was the rules keeping us apart, but without them between us there’s nothing caging my self-destructive feelings anymore.

It’s fucking wrong.

They’re wrong.

I’m wrong.

I’m barely functioning, putting one foot in front of the other is just muscle memory at this point. I know this route like it’s tattooed on me and so I start walking it without a second thought. My surroundings can fuck right on off. I don’t care about them.

Do I care about anything other than the feel of Brooks’ cock deep in my throat? Or Aiden pounding me so hard my cervix is still screaming about it? Or Cameron dragging the needle in his rig across my skin?

I don’t think I do.

I run a hand through my hair and look up, thankful as fuck there’s only a block between me and my place. I can close myself away and forget all about how I feel even more lost now than I did before. Is this how my life will be now? Categorizing it between before and after?

Footsteps quicken behind me, and my body goes rigid. It’s not an uncommon sound, but there’s something about them that sets my teeth on edge. They sound…familiar. But that’s not possible, I don’t think. I want to walk faster as my heart starts to gallop in my chest, but my body feels heavier and I’m unable to do what my instincts are yelling at me to do.

I’m fucking weak.

I register the sound of a car breaking sharply at the same time something is shoved over my head from behind and strong arms wrap around me, trapping my arms against my sides, and I’m lifted off the ground. It happens so fast. My legs flail, trying to find a target, but a little voice in my head tells me it’s useless, that I should give up, that this was the best I could hope for anyway.

My heart is beating so fast, too fucking fast, and it feels like I can’t breathe through whatever is over my head. I think my eyes are wide, but all I see is darkness. I can’t even see any of the dwindling light of the day through whatever is covering me.

I’m roughly thrown into what I can only assume is a car. I bounce against the hard door, my shoulder instantly blooming with white-hot pain at the impact. As I’m panting, it feels like I’m losing my grip on reality.

This can’t be happening, can it?

Did I even scream?

That’s when I realize there are high-pitched noises coming from me. It deters absolutely no one. I can’t hear if there are shouts for help, or for whoever has me to be stopped, over the noise and the rumble of the engine of the car I’m in. I feel someone hop in beside me and I kick out, but my leg is caught and squeezed mercilessly.

I should have told the guys how I feel about them. I shouldn’t have ignored them today or yesterday. I should have dropped to my knees and offered myself up to their sadistic play and to be theirs entirely. Will I get the chance again?

Tires squeal as the vehicle surges forward and I’m heaved back against the seat. A car honks behind us, but I’m sure it has more to do with them being angry about the car I’m being abducted in cutting them off. It probably has nothing to do with the fact that I am, in fact, being stolen off the street.

Fucking bastards.

I snarl, my lip curling, and the hand trapping my leg digs in deeper. It makes the muscles of my calf ache and my leg twitch, wanting to pull away from the pain, but I’m unable to.

As the speed of the car levels out, I force myself to take a breath even though it’s labored. My nipples are rock fucking hard, and I can feel how fucking wet I am. My body is a fucking traitor to my heart and my mind.

I’m sick.

I need help.

I’m being stolen and I’m turned the fuck on.

What is wrong with me?

I might never have the chance to find out. I could have explored this with my men, but who the fuck knows what is going to happen to me now. It makes a hollow ache in the middle of my chest grow, almost engulfing my spirit and my hope entirely in inky blackness.

“I’m going to let go of your leg and you aren’t going to try and kick me again,” the words are seethed in my ear.

I can barely hear over the pounding of the blood in my veins. There’s something familiar about the voice, but identifying it is like smoke on the wind and I can’t capture it.

The deep chuckle from in front of me has me freezing in place, something inside of me trying to come back online. Recognition. Knowing. What the fuck is that? It slithers through me, pleading with me to take notice.

“We’re going to take you somewhere very special. You will be compliant. Do you understand?” That same voice is in my ear, low and sultry, but distorted by something primal which calls to me.

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