Page 98 of Lost to the Woods

But he doesn’t care. He seizes my chin, fingertips digging in hard enough to pry my jaw apart, forcing me to look directly into his hunter eyes. There’s that sinister,unhumanflicker in them, but it doesn’t take away from how much I yearn for him. He most likely is a beast, just like the rest of them—I’m almost certain.

Yet, my heart can’t tell the difference. Our history runs too deep, the feelings too real. Some fractured part of me stillcan’t let go of him, clinging to memories… to what we could’ve been.

“How bad did it hurt?” he asks in that deep, gravelly voice that makes my stomach flutter.

I don’t have an answer—how could I ever put it into words? Because he doesn’t necessarily mean physical pain. He knows he’s shattering me from within. And he relishes it.

“Good,” he rasps against my lips. “Now you know what a fucking torture it is to love you.”

God, I need that man to destroy me entirely.

The next thing I know, he kisses me. Or maybe I kiss him first. Doesn’t matter anyway.

It’s not tender. It’s desperate, punishing, filled with passion. Our mouths crash like we’re trying to fight each other, like we’re both starved and furious that we still crave the taste. His hand fists in my hair, pulling hard enough to draw a gasp, and I bite his bottom lip until I taste blood. There’s no mercy in it. Just hunger and hatred twisted together—two people trying to devour the pieces they broke in each other.

He steps back too fast, breath ragged, brushing one hand through the dark hair that’s fallen messily over his forehead.

He’s affected. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way for me to get through to him.

“Daddy, please,” I whisper softly. “You don’t need to do this. I’myours.”

He freezes for a brief moment, frowning as though he‘s contemplating it. But when his eyes meet mine again, they are hardly human.

Without responding, he strolls toward a heavy wooden table set against the far wall like he has all the time in the world. My stomach churns as my eyes scan what’s laid out there. Neat, pristine rows of meticulously arranged tools—gleaming metal, leather, toys.

He reaches for the ball gag from the table before returning to stand in front of me. My pulse spikes, breath hitches, but the rubber already presses against my lips. My muffled protest dies in my throat as I’m forced to accept it, the strap cinching tight behind my head.

He steps back, tilting his head. “Better.”

Before I know it, his hands are on my tits, rough and possessive, squeezing hard. Then—slap. The sharp sting across my flesh makes me jerk, my nipples arching, and my muffled cry escapes the gag.

“I want you to feel everything I give you,” he murmurs into my ear, his thick, dark stubble tickling my skin. “Pain. Pleasure. Fear. I want all of it. Can you give that to me, Princess?”

He does it again, harder, slapping my other breast, before his mouth replaces his palm, sucking one peak between his teeth.

I jolt as he bites down. The pain is bright, electric, and my cunt pulses in response, betraying me with a treacherous ripple of heat.

“Don't pretend you don’t want it,” he whispers against my flesh. “I can smell it on you.”

“No,” I muffle over the gag, drool trickling down my chin.

He chuckles darkly, then flicks his pierced tongue over my other nipple before sucking it into his mouth—warm, teasing, coaxing. When he pulls away, the clamps come next, cold metal pinching my tender nipples tight. The constant pressure is making my back bow off the ropes. It hurts, but not in the way I expect. I feel it between my legs, a slow, pulsing ache like it’s a direct link to that sharp pinch.

Ghost’s fingers slide under the thin chain connecting the clamps, wrapping it around his knuckles, giving a light tug. A whimper escapes me before I can swallow it down.

He hums in approval, watching me struggle. “You’re so fucking stunning like this, Bunny.”

Then another pull. The pain lances through my chest, sharp and searing. I scream against the gag, saliva spilling over my lips as I squirm, trying to escape the sensation. My body jerks in its bindings, but there’s nowhere to go.

“See? You can be good when you try.” He smiles at that, cruel and pleased, and I just want to fucking kill him.

With all the strength I have left, I try to kick, but all it does is causing the hook in my ass to shift, massaging that wonderful spot inside me.

I hate him.

I hate what he’d done to me.

And I hate how he’s making me feel.

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