Page 51 of Marek

“God,” he rasps, “fuck you.”

I know he’s saying that in a way that isn’t an insult. He’s saying it because I’m making him crazy, and I love it.

He fucks me, nothing slow and passionate about it. His fingers bite into the back of my neck and my hands curl into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he drives me with a force he’s never used. The truck rocks as he fills me, feeding me short but deep thrusts as my moans turn into strangled screams. It’s wild, and I love every goddamned second of it.

“More,” I scream, clutching him. “Marek, more.”

“Fucking filthy,” he barks, fucking me harder, deeper, until I’m cumming around him.

I pulse, my pleasure exploding in a way I’ve never experienced. I’m thankful he’s holding me, because I’d likely fall back with the sheer force of my release. Marek finds his a moment later, his body tensing, his jaw flexing, the ragged growl leaving his throat sending shivers up my spine.

Fuck me.

I’m obsessed.

Truly obsessed.

This is very, very bad.

“GET IN.”

I stare at the cage in sheer horror.

My body is still throbbing from the way he fucked me on the way home, and now we’re here, he wants me to climb into a cage.

Shaking my head, I take a step back but his hand lashes out, stopping me.

“You said we weren’t using cages again,” I stammer.

“You said you weren’t going to run.”

No.

“Don’t put me in there again, please,” I beg, a mixture of hurt and shock that he’s even considering this after what just happened.

“You made a big mistake when it comes to me, Ellie Mae,” he growls, pushing me towards the cage. “You think I care.”

His words sting as he forces me down into the one place I never wanted to go again.

I can’t stop the angry tears falling down my cheeks as I turn toward him, just as he swings the door shut. “I hate you,” I cry out, my voice breaking.

“Good.”

“I won’t dance. I won’t do a single fucking thing for you if you leave me in here.”

He leans down close, curling his fingers around the cage bars and growling, “You’ll dance, and you’ll do it with passion. You’re going to spend the night here, so you remember who it is you’re playing with.”

A night?

I can handle a night.

That doesn’t take the hurt away, though.

After what we just experienced, it kills me that he’s gone back to being stone cold.

“Why do you do this?” I croak, and I can’t stop the tears from falling harder.

I don’t cry in front of him.

---