Page 79 of Merciless Desires

After I've thoroughly used her, I will grant her the release of death. This is the only mercy I can offer. A few days of transcendent euphoria and then endless sleep. Much better than a bullet in some filthy alley.

I rise and head for her room, my steps heavy but determined.

I find her curled on the bed, her slender shoulders moving up and down rhythmically in sleep.

I circle the bed like a shark ready to reach out for a handful of her hair...and stop.

I drop my hand and step back, breathing hard. I don't know what makes me stop. I don't know what causes me to retreat to the doorway. I’m confused by my own actions.

I rake a hand through my hair, then, with colossal effort, I turn and leave the room, locking it securely behind me.

I make my way to the fireplace and drop onto the leather sofa. With a muttered curse, I unbutton my fly and grasp my aching cock.

My eyes close and my head drops back as details from her punishment assault me in vivid detail—the graceful arch of her lower back, the sweet swell of her ass, the glistening pink folds framed by milky white thighs, her rippling cries and breathy moans.

I have fucked countless women, some I pay to satisfy my twisted appetites. Yet it’s her face, her body, her moans of anguish transforming to cries of bliss that fill my mind as I stroke myself roughly.

It doesn’t take long before I’m spilling over my fist with a bitten-off curse.

I slump back against the leather, feeling empty, hollow. What have I become? I planned to debase this girl. Instead, I am out here alone, jerking my own cock while she sleeps.

Everything is turned upside down.

I clean myself with a tissue and tuck my cock back into my pants. The alcohol is buzzing through my system now, casting a merciful haze over my thoughts. On unsteady legs, I make my way to bed.

This cannot continue. One way or another, I have to end it. End her.

CHAPTER 5

Natalia

When I wake, shame grips me. It’s a delayed reaction.

I betrayed myself by surrendering, by willingly letting my kidnapper bring me to orgasm. I could have fought. I should have fought.

However worked up and hungry for release I became, I didn't have to welcome him so willingly. Damn. What happened to my self-respect?

The worst part is that even now, I can’t fully regret it. Some part of me has come alive sexually. It was a year ago that I lost my virginity, to a nameless, faceless guy I met at a bar just after my mother's funeral.

Which is more shocking—that I was a virgin until I was twenty-one, or that when I finally had my cherry popped, it was by a drunken one-night stand?

My only other sexual experience happened after closing the diner one night when I was lonely and missing my mom and ended up following a tourist back to his hotel room. I don’t even remember his name.

My mother suffered from occasional paranoid delusions, and because of them, she kept me sheltered. It’s understandable, I suppose, that after my father died, she kind of freaked out. We left Russia with little more than the clothes on our backs.

Before tonight, the only time I ever orgasmed was a solo job. And they were never anything like the… the earth-shaking, soul-deep—Oh, god. What the hell am I saying? Can I be more of an idiot? I have a soul-deep connection with a psychopath who kidnapped me and who's probably a serial killer?

When I emerge from the shower, the night clothes I took off are gone. Draped over the bed is a clean T-shirt and nothing else. It’s huge, so it must be one of his, but it’s better than walking around naked. There are no undergarments, or anything else for me to wear, so I slip it over my head. It falls to my knees.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do but when I try the door it's unlocked. I hear some rustling in the main part of the cabin, so I cautiously venture down the hallway toward a delicious aroma.

The small table is set, and my captor stands behind a kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, cooking tongs in hand, watching me.

I stop short, stunned. Okay, this is creepy-weird.

He watches me take everything in, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I remind myself that I can’t let down my guard. I have to keep my wits about me enough to seize my first chance at escape.

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