He lifts his head.
I can feel him looking at me. Watching me. Begging me to open my eyes.
I do.
My eyelids flutter open and the air catches in my throat when our gazes meet. He’s staring at me like I’m the only goddamn thing in the world, and I suppose, right now, I am.
A soft moan passes through his lips and I want to know what it tastes like, so I lean forward to capture his mouth in another searing kiss. He kisses me back with everything he has left, every last ounce of life and hope, his tongue tangling desperately with my own.
Then his thumb halts its calming designs along my wrist.
My security blanket is gone. My way out has turned to dust.
And I hardly notice.
I don’t even care because I’m so wrapped up in all of the strange, powerful feelings coursing through me, swallowing me whole.
Dean trails his hand up my arm and cradles my neck, pulling back from my mouth to find my eyes again. He doesn’t want to give me an escape this time. He wants me to be here, in this moment, with him. My breathing is heavy as tiny sounds crawl up my throat with each hard thrust of his cock. I want to reach for him. I want to touch him like he’s touching me. I want to feel his skin beneath my fingertips, assuring me he’s real.
I’m not alone. I’m not alone.
Dean’s hand disappears from my neck and falls between us, and I almost choke on a gasp when I realize what he’s doing. The thumb that has been tracing my wrist, giving me comfort, is now pressed up against my clit, massaging me as our bodies crash together. His eyes don’t leave mine. My eyes don’t leave his. We’re locked together, something silent and unspoken but all-consuming passing between us.
It doesn’t take long before the telltale sparks begin to scatter and climb, an orgasm building. My breath hitches with tiny gasps and whimpers, and my God, the look on Dean’s face when he realizes what’s happening—when he realizes I’m going to come…
Shock. Disbelief.
The space between his eyes creases, his brows furrowing, his pupils dilating. His gaze is wide and full of something I can’t even begin to unravel.
And then I feel myself peaking, bursting, so he kisses me, devouring my moan with his mouth and plunging into me three more times before his own orgasm takes over. He lets out a primal groan, shuddering and digging his fingers into the underside of my thigh as he comes.
And then it’s over.
We both come down, our lips and teeth pressed together, our breathing low and heavy. Dean’s grip on me loosens, and my legs fall from his hips. I’m absolutely terrified to look at him, partially disgusted by what just transpired, but mostly confused. I duck my head the moment our mouths separate, forcing back the hot tears of shame.
What the hell was that?
A slow clap rings out beside us, echoing right through me, and I realize I had forgotten he was even there.
“Well done. My little playthings put on quite the show,” Earl sneers, a gurgling laugh erupting from him.
Dean quickly pulls out of me, and I can see that his chin is to his chest as he steps backwards. He can’t look at me either. He’s shuffling with his pants when Earl lurches forward and pushes him to the opposite corner with the barrel of the gun.
“Intermission time,” Earl says as Dean pulls up his zipper.
“Fuck you… you vile, filthy, inhumane piece of shit.”
A beat.
Oh, no, Dean. What are you doing?
Dean must have a death wish because he continues. “You’re a sick, twisted piece of garbage. You’ll never get away with this because you’ll keep doing it. You’ll keep kidnapping women because there’s not a single fucking reality where you could even pay a woman to touch your tiny, impotent dick. You’re going to get caught, and then you’re going to rot in a prison cell where Carl shoves his enormous cock up your ass every night until you drop dead, you fat, fucking fuck.”
Earl is silent for a moment, his pistol positioned right at Dean’s chest. My heart all but stops as I wait, my insides twisting with dread.
He’s going to kill him.
He’s absolutely going to kill him.
I can’t let that happen.
Before the trigger is pulled, before a shot rings out and Dean drops in front of my eyes, I let out a mighty, shrill scream and shake my chains at the same time. It’s enough to pierce the silence and force Earl’s attention in my direction for the briefest moment.
It’s enough to give Dean a tiny, pivotal window to make his move.
It’s our one and only chance of getting out of here alive, and Dean takes it.
He follows through on his promise.
With a guttural growl, Dean lunges at Earl and knocks him right off his feet. They both tumble backwards onto the hard ground, Dean on top, Earl grabbing for his pistol that slipped from his meaty paw. Dean gets to it first and shoves it away with a quick swipe of his hand, and I watch it slide across the floor and out of Earl’s reach.
“You motherfucker,” Dean spits out, slinking one palm around Earl’s neck as he rises to his knees and straddles our captor, beating him with his opposite fist. Dean pummels him. He’s violent and angry and completely zoned out. “You sick piece of shit. This is for laying your disgusting fucking hands on her.”
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
The sound of fist against face is sickening as blood spatters up at Dean and all around us. I’m holding my breath, squeezing the pole with all my might, watching the horrific scene in front of me.
“You bastard. You fucking bastard.” Dean is focused. Determined. He’s using both fists now to wreak havoc on Earl’s face until the monster becomes unrecognizable. “How dare you fucking touch her. I’ll fucking kill you.”
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
Blood, flesh, bone. It’s everywhere. Earl’s limbs quiver in shock as he loses the fight and goes limp on the cement.
“You’re dead. You’re fucking dead,” Dean seethes, spitting through his teeth, his punches hard and brutal. He’s an animal—out of control. “I’ll kill you.”
But he already did. It’s done.
It’s over.
I hear skull cracking, and I clench my eyes shut, shouting, “Dean, stop!”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
Thwap. Crack. Thwap.
“He’s dead, Dean!” I cry. “He’s dead. He’s dead. Please stop.”
My voice finally infiltrates the vengeance-fueled haze that has consumed him, and Dean stills his fist mid-air, his chest surging with weighty breaths, his body shaking with rage. His eyes widen as he takes in the gory scene in front of him—a horrifying, ugly mess he created with his own, bare hands. A life taken.
End scene.
Dean propels himself backwards when the image sinks in, scooting himself away from the blood-spattered body and pulling himself to faltering feet. “Fuck… oh, Jesus…” He holds his hands out in front of him, staring at the bloodbath, his breathing intensifying and becoming unhinged.
I want to run to him, console him in some way, but I’m still chained to this goddamn pole. I tug at my manacles. “Dean, please get me out of these. I want to go home.”
He snaps his head up, and the look of incredulous horror on his face will be ingrained in my mind forever. Dean looks back down at his hands, then starts scrubbing them against the front of his jeans. “Yeah, okay. Fuck… okay...” He’s out of sorts, pacing around in a circle, tugging at his hair.