Page 40 of Cursed
That does it. My release hits like a freight train, vision blurring as thick ropes of cum shoot from my cock, decorating her perfect pussy. Stream after stream coats her, some shooting higher to paint her lower abdomen in pearly white streaks.
“Fuck, look at you,” I pant, my cock still pulsing. “Marked. Claimed. Mine.”
I drag my still-hard length through our combined releases, using my cock to smear my cum across her sensitive folds. The sight of my seed glistening on her flesh is visceral—evidence of my ownership that satisfies the darkness within.
I watch her face as I continue this intimate marking. “My perfect little butterfly. Taking everything I give you so beautifully.”
Her eyes flutter, exhaustion and overstimulation evident in her expression as I continue rubbing my cum into her skin like a deranged artist.
“Do you feel it?” I whisper, leaning close to her ear while still dragging my cock through the mess between her thighs. “How perfectly we fit together? Your body was made for my pleasure. Your mind was created to challenge mine.”
I press a tender kiss to her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.
“I’ll break you apart and rebuild you,” I promise, my words carrying that edge of madness. “Make you perfect. More perfect. Mine in every way possible.”
17
SADIE
Asharp horn blares through the chamber, cutting through the haze that clouds my mind. My body jerks in the restraints, my heart rate spiking as the sudden noise triggers a fresh wave of adrenaline.
“What’s that?” I gasp, fear replacing the lingering sensations of forced release. “What’s happening?”
Landon’s gaze softens, hunger giving way to tenderness as he strokes my hair.
“Shh, little butterfly,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips against mine. The taste of my own arousal floods my mouth, making me whimper against him in humiliation. “It’s just the signal.”
When he pulls back, I swallow hard. “Signal for what?”
“It’s time to convene in the orgy room.” His tone is casual, as if he’s just mentioned meeting for coffee.
My entire body tenses.
“The orgy room?” My voice cracks. “What the hell does that mean? I never agreed to?—”
“Don’t worry,” Landon interrupts, his fingers continuing their gentle stroking of my hair. “There’s no way in hell anyonewill even look at you wrong. We might put on a bit of a show, but if a man even thinks of touching you...”
His voice drops to a whisper, but the intensity of his words makes my blood run cold.
“I’ll gouge his eyes out with my thumbs first.” His thumb brushes across my lower lip as he speaks, the gesture a disturbing contrast. “Then I’ll chop his dick and hands off and fuck you in his blood.”
I stare up at him, truly seeing the darkness behind those psychotic eyes. This isn’t an act or exaggeration. The cold certainty in his voice reveals the ruthless, psychotic violence lurking beneath his serene facade. He’s not making empty threats—he’s stating exactly what he would do, without hesitation.
And the most terrifying part? Some twisted corner of my mind feels... protected by his unhinged penchant for violence.
The restraints hiss as they release, retracting into the chair. My limbs feel heavy, useless after being bound for so long. I expect Landon to roughly pull me up, but instead, his hands are surprisingly gentle as he helps me sit.
“Stay still,” he commands, his voice soft but leaving no room for argument.
He disappears momentarily, returning with a damp cloth. I flinch when he kneels between my legs again, but this time his intentions are different. With tenderness, he cleans between my thighs, wiping away the evidence of what he’s done to me. The cool cloth soothes my oversensitized skin.
This careful attention is jarring after his violent threats moments ago. How can the same man who promised to dismember someone also treat me with such delicate consideration?
“There,” he says, discarding the cloth and then pulling his mask back over his face. “Be a good girl and take my hand.”
I hesitate, knowing I should fight, should run, should scream. But I find myself reaching for his outstretched hand. If he’s taking me into an orgy room, I’ll be damned if I’m going to give him any reason topunishme for not doing as told. Regardless of his gentle demeanor the past few minutes, I’m still painfully aware of what he’s capable of. His fingers close around mine, and he helps me stand on shaky legs, guiding me toward the door. We step into a long corridor, his hand firm against the small of my back.
“No more running,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “You’re mine now.”
