Mayhem (Deathstalkers MC #5)(62)
* * *
My head feels like it's been split in two. I touch it with my hand feeling the sticky liquid. I pull my fingers away and hold them close to my eyes.
Blood.
I have no idea what time of day it is because the windows are blacked out. My eyes adjust to the light cast out by an old flickering lamp. The room I'm in is completely bare except for the lamp, the handcuffs around my wrist, and the metal radiator behind me. There's a door in the far corner but it's closed, and there is no glass for me to see out of.
The metal handcuffs clank against the radiator as I try to move, already knowing that it will be no use. The clanking echoes like fireworks. I hear footsteps on what sounds like stairs and then Dylan appears in front of me.
"I was waiting for you to wake up. The stuff I have planned is no fun if you're asleep. I want to hear you scream and enjoy the taste of your tears." He holds up my phone. "I grabbed this for you. Figured we could make a little video for the asshole that thought he could take you from me."
He places the phone on the ground, against the wall, angling it so that the camera is pointed in my direction. As he takes steps toward me, the light catches on something metal in his hand.
"Please don't do this."
His laugh echoes around me. "How I've missed hearing those words from your lips. I always warned you never to leave me. Now you'll pay for it."
He squats down in front of me and I can smell him; the sickly combination of cheap aftershave and sweat that I remember all too well taking me back to another time and place. One I thought I'd left behind forever. I swallow deeply as he traces the apples of my cheeks with the point of the knife I'd seen him use time and time again, the smell of fish guts still clinging to it. Slowly he brings the blade down to rest against my throat, applying a slight pressure before trailing further down to the neck of my shirt, cutting through the material, each stroke opening me further to him. The remnants of my shirt hang limply at my sides. Dylan runs the blade over the swell of my breasts, whistling at the sight of my bra. It's one I'd bought with Cutter in mind. I look up at the ceiling, blinking away the threatening tears. "Looks like someone's been shopping."
The cold metal of the blade touches against my sternum. The knife cuts through the delicate material with ease, sliding through it like a knife through butter. I feel the tip press against my skin for a second time, but instead of moving, Dylan pushes, the tip piercing my skin, my cry rattling around the room, blood running down my stomach and pooling at the waistband of my jeans. "Scream as loud as you like. There's no one to hear you."
He puts down the knife but I feel no relief. I'm not naïve enough to think that he's done with it. As he takes a set of keys and moves behind me to remove the handcuffs, I keep my eyes on the knife, wondering if I have time to snatch it. Dylan's gaze follows my own. "Oh, baby." He moves and kicks out his foot, sending the knife back toward the door. "Brave little thing you've become, haven't you? I think I'm going to enjoy breaking you again."
Keeping on eye on me he backs away and retrieves the knife which he now pressed to the top of my pants as he repeats the same torture. Once I'm completely bare he stands up and yanks me with him. He grips my wrists, the rough touch I've tried to forget back and worse than ever. The cuffs fall to the floor and I fight the urge to rub the raw skin.
"Undress me."
I don't want to touch him. My eyes move to the stairs as I try to come up with some way to escape.
"Don't even fucking think about it."
He grabs my jaw so hard I think it might shatter under his grip. "Now fucking undress me before I break both your hands and make you do it with your mouth."
He releases me and as tears stream down my face I unbutton his shirt, each time one of my fingers brushes his skin, he moans and grinds against me. When I get to his pants, I start to sob openly, no longer concerned about hiding my pain. He gets off on it. Maybe this will get it over with quicker. I pull his jeans down and find him bare underneath them. He is wearing boots and as I reach for them he stops me.
"Wait."
He lifts his foot and smashes it down on top of mine. Earth shattering pain strikes me and I collapse to the floor, my foot throbs, and the pain radiates throughout my entire body. "Now you have no chance of getting away until I'm done with you."
I hear the boots and jeans hitting the floor and immediately feel him at my back. He forces me onto my stomach, pressing my head hard against the wood floor. Gripping my hair, he turns my face toward the camera.