Page 60 of Cursed
“I’m going to claim you first,” he announces, his fingers tracing possessive patterns on my hip. “Tell me how you want it, little butterfly.”
I swallow hard, heat flooding my face. “I want...” The words stick in my throat, shameful yet undeniable.
His grip tightens. “Tell me.”
“Like before,” I admit. “When you... When you made me take it. When I fought, and you didn’t stop.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “You want me to take you against your will with everyone watching?”
I nod, my entire body flushing with humiliation and desire.
Landon growls, low and feral. “Such a naughty girl,” he says, yanking me closer. “Wanting everyone to think I’m forcing you when we both know how wet you get for me.” His fingers dig into my flesh. “You want them to see you struggle while I claim what’s mine? While I make you surrender?”
“Yes,” I breathe, hating myself for how desperately I want this—this twisted game where I can pretend the choice isn’t mine.
“You’re perfect,” he says, and the worst part is how those words make me feel whole for the first time in years.
Landon’s hands release me, and coldness captures me as he steps away. The absence of his touch leaves me unmoored. He moves forward with deliberate steps, his white mask making him look like a beautiful demon.
Xavier raises a brow at him.
“I claim Sadie Reynolds for one full year,” Landon’s voice carries through the room. “She belongs to me completely.”
My breath catches in my throat. This is it—the moment where I truly become property of Landon Blackwood for a year.
I tense, my body coiling like a spring. I feel exposed, not just physically in these white silk ribbons, but as if everyone can see right through to the darkest corners of my psyche.
Landon turns back to me, his eyes burning with possession. When he reaches for me, I know I should pull away—that’s what an unwilling captive would do. But my traitorous body leans toward him like a flower seeking sunlight, even as I shake my head in what appears to be protest.
Heat prickles across my chest, rising up my neck to my cheeks. I can feel it, the evidence of my desire on display for everyone in this room.
“I don’t want this,” I state, but the words lack any real conviction.
Landon’s lips curve into that knowing smile that makes me want to both slap him and beg for his touch.
His hands are already working to remove my silk wrappings. The white silk ribbons fall away from my body, sliding to the floor. I stand completely naked before the entire room, skin prickling with goosebumps despite the heat rushing through me. Landon’s eyes burn with possession as he takes in every inch of my naked form.
“Time to show everyone who you belong to,” he growls, his hand clamping around my wrist.
I pull back instinctively, my resistance part performance, part genuine anxiety at being so vulnerable before the assembled masked figures. “I don’t want this,” I hiss. “Not like this. Not with everyone watching.”
Landon’s grip tightens as he drags me toward the mirrored dais in the center of the room.
“Stop fighting,” he hisses, though we both know I won’t. We both know I can’t.
I twist in his grip, my free hand pushing against his chest. “Let me go!”
A dark thrill runs through me when his eyes narrow. This is what we agreed to—my resistance, his force. The perfect absolution for my desires.
He throws me down onto the cold surface of the dais, and I scramble backward, my breath coming in sharp pants. The mirrors reflect my nakedness from every angle.
I kick out when he approaches, my foot connecting with his thigh. Landon doesn’t even flinch. He catches my ankle, yanking me toward him and forcing my legs apart. I claw at his arms, leaving red marks that only seem to fuel his hunger.
“Mine,” he growls, fumbling with his pants. His cock springs free, hard and ready.
I thrash beneath him, secretly loving how effortlessly he pins me down. My resistance is real yet orchestrated—the perfect contradiction that lets me have what I crave while pretending I don’t.
When he slams into me without warning, I cry out—pain and pleasure becoming transcendent. “Stop!” My body arches, accepting him while I push against his shoulders.
