ISAK & Red: An enemies-to-lovers Dark Romance Page 4

  I lusted after the idea of fucking her, strung up, hands bound high, toes spinning on the sand.

  Lust was mesmer. Yes. Power over females was mesmer.

  Why would any sane man not wish that power?

  Thinking, I licked along the slit of my mouth. I moved in again and yanked the makeshift gag far enough backward to loosen the panties from her head and strip them off her.

  One step backward… Two.

  “I want you, Red, to do something else. I want you to help me become human, again.”

  Her eyes stayed wide and uncomprehending.

  CHAPTER 5

  RED

  Jesus. Was he serious?

  Human, again – he had said that.

  Which meant he thought he wasn’t human.

  That alone was a surprise. I’d never made the leap to thinking he wasn’t human. He was just horribly distorted, damaged, and evil.

  And I was being so very kind giving him that human label, seeing I was standing here, dress limp in my hand, trembling, panting for breath, and naked, after being chased down the track. This was my own private horror movie.

  Which had lasted years, and yet… and yet he asked me this, while staring with those cold eyes. They were blue, in close-up, and he’d stared the same way while hurting me tens of, a hundred times.

  How dare he ask me. How fucking dare he. A sob built in the back of my throat and nose. This had to be a trick. I still trembled, sometimes I twitched like a seizure victim.

  Fear was a constant.

  The sun was petering out. Standing near him with darkness fading in was scarier to me than encountering whatever diabolical Aussie wildlife might be waiting to pounce.

  Could that drug do this? Could it make him think like a normal-ish man?

  I did not know. He might be lying. I wished he wasn’t but wishes weren’t real.

  Though, it was ridiculous to even think that he would lie. Isak had precisely zero need to lie to me when he could take from me anything.

  Which begged the question – why was he asking?

  Maybe I was wrong?

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because I need to.”

  Shit. Need? I was lost, confused, and panicking mainly because he confused me.

  “And if I say no?” I croaked.

  Courage was coming to me today because, I guess, I simply had nowhere left to go. He would kill me eventually, by accident if not on purpose. This was a simple statistical certainty.

  Death might be easier than what I had suffered.

  “Say no.” He shrugged. “I will make you.”

  “Oh.”

  Fatigue engulfed me.

  Somehow this had poured concrete into my veins. I collapsed slowly onto my knees, scrunching sand beneath my legs. My head was heavy, and I leaned forward, teetering, mouth slack. Under my palm, my gathered dress slid over my thigh.

  An ant wandered over a twig. A large, pale-yellow flower blossomed on a vine that strayed onto the path. More of those flowers were dotted throughout the underbrush.

  Flowers. Then I realized why this struck me as strange. I hadn’t really seen flowers or beauty or nature, not the details, not really seen them, for years. I wanted to cry for that vanished part of me.

  I cleared my throat and dared to look at him. “Actually, you can’t make me do this.”

  Was this what they called a Mexican stand-off? If so, it was a drained one. I’d gone from turned on, as usual when confronted by him, to resigned and exhausted.

  “Don’t be so certain.”

  We were having an actual discussion.

  Talking was not Isak’s way.

  I merely blinked and waited. Could he make me help him be more human? I didn’t know how to do it even when consciously aware.

  Isak sighed.

  His face changed and showed expressions I could not interpret because I knew nothing of his motivations, of what drove a mesmer. Being a blank, unreadable golem was more him.

  The wash of the ocean rolling onto the shore was a constant background noise.

  It made me think of one of those old movies where a man is frantically trying to tune a radio and getting endless static, because outside the world has collapsed and the monsters are approaching his door.

  In my world, the monster had already broken in.

  Despite this, hope came into being deep inside me. A gleaming morsel of it unwound like a seedling and reached for the light.

  Maybe this was something worthwhile?

  Was it possible he had changed?

  He went to one knee and plucked the nearest yellow flower, twirled it. “Put your clothes back on. We’ll return.” He looked up. “To the house. Here. Have this as proof.”

  Frowning, I took it. “Of?”

  “Of me wanting more than I have before.” Then he stretched his arm and grabbed my nipple in finger and thumb then ground them together until I yelped. “Just don’t think I’m now a fucking angel.”

  Grimacing, teeth gritted, I said the obvious, “Never.”

  He didn’t notice me drop the flower.

  “Good. Clothes on.” He drew my nipple outward so that I had to shuffle forward on my knees. “I’d rather discuss this further in private, away from the bugs and the crocs.”

  “Crocs?”

  “Crocodiles.”

  Of course. As if I’d been in any doubt. Why were we still here?

  While he waited, I quickly pulled my dress over my head, slipped it into place. My panties were not returned. I had to lead the way over the same trail we had come down. We were passed by a laughing couple returning to the resort, then a family group equipped with flashlights.

  I watched them go, filled with a yearning for normality. Why me? It was a question I had asked myself many times.

  Then another man passed us, heading in the opposite direction. Dark, short hair, shadowed eyes, an olive complexion, and black leather gloves – an unremarkable man if not for the gloves. There was one other thing – I recognized him. He was one of the men who had assaulted me at Ted’s house. Not rape, but he’d come close to it.

  His subtle double-take then faint sneer almost made me halt, but I kept going.

  I kept walking, in a daze. What should I do?

  It seemed as if Isak had not recognized him. Though he had been concussed.

  If I said nothing, would more of those men arrive? Probably. In the confusion might I not escape? Especially with Isak a little less all-powerful. It was possible, but unlikely, and being a captive of these other men held more uncertainty than any day with Isak.

  Which was both alarming and reassuring. Up to a point, I trusted Isak more than a random, murderous criminal.

  We entered the little resort house, and I turned to speak. I should tell him.

  “Ummm.”

  One finger held upright was all it took to silence me.

  Torn, I stared at that finger and his face.

  “Crawl up.” He flicked the finger, indicating the spiral stairs.

  Very well, suck on this, Isak. Condemn yourself to whatever happens. They will fuck you up if they catch you.

  How had they found us? The red Porsche might be how, if they had seen it taken? I imagined Ted and his associates as some vast spider-web affair of Australia-wide bad guys. Unlikely. They must have lucked out.

  I kneeled on the tiled floor and put my hands on the first of the timber steps.

  The loud rev and roar of an accelerating motorbike reminded me of the black gloves that man wore. Bikers might network, when they weren’t killing each other.

  They might.

  Isak gave my butt a nudge with his bare foot, cunningly using the front of his foot to edge the dress material between my legs, before lifting me, a little, off the floor. “Go. At the top, expect punishment.”

  Whatever. He didn’t want to know, and I could not talk.

  I crawled slowly, growing ever more aware of how he followed, like some creature stalking behind wounded prey
, and also growing ever more aroused. For once, I was unsure how much of this reaction was from the mesmer in him, and how much was simply me.

  Would I have reacted like this before I met Isak?

  Maybe not. Being watched and stalked, by a large, determined man who wanted to punish me should not do this, I berated my stupid self.

  My body and my stupid libido were not listening.

  Being more aware was beginning to feel like a glitch in the system.

  At the top, he walked around me to the bedroom, then returned with a black roll of tape. “Strip.” I pulled the dress off again, still kneeling because we both knew I wasn’t allowed to rise.

  The intense gleam in his eyes was riveting. His finger crooked.

  I had to own up to my own perversities, my craziness, if you will. I wanted this even if it was due to habitual abuse. I reasoned through this. The many orgasms might set up an avalanche of kinks, a trained reaction of need. I crawled closer, aware of him watching the sway of my breasts and my body.

  “Hands behind you.”

  Then he walked around me, and I heard the tearing sound of the bondage tape being unrolled, felt it wrapped about my wrists, fastening them firmly together.

  I’d shut my eyes by then. My reaction had been automatic and shameful – anticipating the rush of being trapped, my throat had closed in and my nipples ached.

  This was not mesmer; it was me.

  When had I begun to like this? When? How could I like this?

  Pick a day, a year. I was Pavlov’s bitch. This was so fucked up.

  A metal device hung in his hands when he returned to my front, and I recognized it instantly – a clothes hanger with the clips at the ends.

  Isak leaned down and settled onto one knee.

  Enthralled, breathing more than a little shakily, I watched the approach of his mouth. He wrapped a hand under my breast, and his head turned as he targeted my nipple.

  One lick, then another.

  The pleasure unfurled, slowly building. He sucked at them, one then the other, almost delicate, before he gave each a final suck, as if to be sure of the taste. That soft kissing sound as he let go of my flesh with lips and tongue… God.

  I inhaled, held it. My clit had popped out, engorged.

  Then… just as enraptured, I watched him open a clip, approach me, and apply it to the nipple he had caught with finger and thumb. Though I squealed, he did the same for the second nipple.

  I tensed and wrapped my fingers hard against each other behind my back, twining them together. A shift of my bodyweight made my breasts feel the weight of the hanger. They throbbed with an angry, biting pain.

  Mouth open, I panted through the mounting sensation. It seemed to lessen before it grabbed me again. The look of those clamped on each side… My teeth anchored in my bottom lip.

  I couldn’t reach around and free myself. Which, I loved. I did.

  Fuck me.

  “Well now.” Isak brushed a finger across the upper curve of each breast. He straightened and stood, admiring his work.

  I tilted my head to meet his gaze, and we both knew that this, this, was something he’d made me enjoy. Not so much the pain, but the being ensnared by his doing. This was mesmer and dominance rolled together, and so screwy I wasn’t sure which way was up.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’d forgotten. I’d lost this. This…” He rubbed his chin, and I let my eyelids flutter down a moment.

  “Open those eyes. Let me see you.”

  They snapped open for him. Mesmer.

  He weighed each breast in a hand, holding them firmly, gently brushing the parts of my nipples he could reach between those biting clips.

  I wriggled on the spot, writhing my ass and squeezing in below, aroused so direly I need to be fucked then and there. I whined, embarrassed even as I did so.

  He chuckled. “Hmmm. Up.”

  With one hand, he helped me rise and drew me to the sofa armrest, where he perched himself then pulled me stomach-down over his legs. With my wrists bound, I had to rely on him to stop me toppling straight to the floor.

  “I should have caned you, tied to the balcony railing.

  “With these tits tied to a weight, and you screaming.

  “I should have made you bleed.”

  He flicked at the coat hanger reminding my nipples of where they were. When I squeaked, his fingers slipped between my legs and played there awhile before he delivered a slap to my ass.

  Then he probed at me, circling my clit, my entrance – toying with me.

  “You’re wet, of course.”

  I whimpered and tried to get those fingers inside me, which seemed to remind him of his purpose. He slapped my ass again, harder, jolting me forward and making that coat hanger swing.

  “So fucking wet.” His groan was accompanied by his large hand smoothing over to my spanked ass then tracing what felt like random lines on it.

  “How did I not know the miracle of your butt? How red it gets. How fucking nice it is to stick my fingers in your wet cunt while you’re over me.”

  His conversation seemed with himself more than with me, and I scowled, aroused greatly and not caring to decipher what he meant.

  He stuck several fingers in me, slid them in, revolved and plunged them in and out, holding me down as he did so. I felt him caress my wrists, tracing the edge of where the tape held them, then he whispered those wet fingers up my spine.

  A few nips on my shoulder made me jerk and woke me from arousal. The little sharp pains made me want to slap him, and I squealed in protest.

  “You will help me,” he said quietly to my ear, kissing me there.

  With what? Oh. Be human.

  “Why?” Somehow, I had managed a coherent answer.

  “Because…” He kissed and bit my nape, rammed fingers into me. I arched, gasping. “I’ll let you come.”

  Oh god. I swear my pussy clenched onto his fingers even harder. “Not enough. Not after… everything.”

  The past had avalanched in. The aberrant humiliations, the sharing, the dismissal of me as anything but a fucktoy.

  Too much had happened.

  I shook my head, trying to shake sense into myself, despite the raging, rising heat and pulse of an imminent but not-quite-there orgasm. Despite lying over his lap, bound and helpless. Mesmers did not need g-spots. His several fingers sucked in and out, pumping a slow and distracting rhythm.

  Opening up my pussy, forcing in, pulling out, stickily… shoving in… the coat hanger on my nipples jumped and swung… the fingers withdrew.

  “Convince me.” I choked at the next thrust, swallowed then spoke. “Why?”

  “Because it’s right. It’s what I need. I don’t want to be what I was.”

  A fucking monster.

  “You’ll free me, afterward, if I do this.” Exactly what this was seemed hard to explain.

  There could be no contract, no writing on paper.

  I knew, though. I knew. I’d figured it out. He could make me want him, orgasm, crawl, but he couldn’t make me do mathematical equations, or philosophy, or make me create humanity in him. That took something more than what a mesmer could command.

  His fingers stilled, leaving me aching. I groaned at the presence of him inside me, even in such a limited way.

  I didn’t want to be a fucktoy? Oh sure.

  “Red…” He sounded exasperated. “Okay then. I promise I will free you, after. Until then, if I want to fuck you, I will. Any which way I want to. Now shhh.”

  Apparently, he thought we now had an agreement. I wasn’t sure I had signed on the metaphorical line.

  Then he lifted me off him until I stood before him, with his hand about my neck. He gave me one sweeping assessment from feet to mouth, ignoring my eyes. Isak freed his cock by pulling down his pants and letting his erection spring free.

  I had to admit that made me place my tongue between my lips as I imagined what was coming. My feet shifted apart automatically, as if the slide of him inside me might
already be in progress.

  Fuck me, please, was on the tip of my questing tongue.

  “I know what you meant before about everything. I know the gist of most of your thoughts, Red.” He released my neck.

  I grunted, brows kinking.

  “I also know that right now you care more about me fucking you than anything else.” Isak rested his fingertip on the crease between my eyes. “It is what it is. Even if I let you go, you won’t be able to climax with any other man. Might want to think on that.”

  His finger slipped down the bridge of my nose to my partly open mouth, where he slid it inside me.

  I moaned then. I sucked greedily on him, and he smiled that goddamned knowing smile.

  “I will always have you, and you know it.”

  I didn’t care. Not then. I was swaying and wanting and craving him, even when he undid the two coat-hanger clips and tossed the thing aside. The pain crushed me for a few seconds, and I bent forward, mind swimming.

  “Here.” He took me by the waist with both hands and lifted me over him, with ease. Then he lowered me onto his very… hard… cock.

  “Fuck.” I hissed as he pushed in, deep, deeper, until sat on him fully impaled and squirming, clamped onto him, feeling my pussy encircle and stretch about the immensity of what felt like an elephant sized cock. It wasn’t, I knew, but it felt enormous – and that’s what counted.

  So perfect – that feeling of cock, new cock, newly invading cock. Cock that was exactly where it should be.

  My legs were opened across his, parting further when he pushed at them. Beneath me, his thighs felt wet and were getting more so as my arousal leaked.

  He kissed me on the mouth. “This is what you need. Right?”

  “Mmm-hm,” I mumbled, craning my head back and grunt-moaning as he pumped himself in and out, using hands to lift me and hold me, and his thighs to shove that cock inside.

  I had words to tell him, I should tell him.

  That man, I saw— It could wait. It had to.

  Fuck. His mouth had latched onto a nipple and was applying just the right amount of devotion. Though they’d been recently abused, the rasp of that soft tongue slew me.

  He sucked on both my tits as he rocked and rammed at me. The first orgasm hit and went on forever, my muscles rigid as the fury of coming filled my head and body to overflowing. I shook in the glorious rapture of an orgasm and was gasping and limp when he rearranged me over the arm of the sofa so he could take me again, from behind.