I can win this.
All I have to do is hate this. If I can just keep hating this, she’ll get bored and she’ll stop. I put all my attention and focus into thinking of things that are undeniably unsexy. It’s not hard to do given everything we’ve been put through.
Renata raises and lowers, arching her back as she swirls her hips and plays the part of the seductress. She plays it well. She’s a damn cougar—experienced and confident—and it makes me physically ill. It’s like she’s been trained to do this, to work unwilling men into a frenzy, turning them into begging, hopeless shells of their former selves. I don’t want to be a begging, hopeless shell, but my balls feel tight and my cock is hard as a rock with the way she moves.
“Stop. Fucking. Moving,” I hiss through gritted teeth as I try to yank my hands away from Luca—though the attempt is useless with the way my shoulders strain.
“No.” Renata bends, pressing her lips to my throat and licking her tongue across the spot.
I groan, both from the unwanted feeling of pleasure it drives and from the strain of fighting pure physical, sexual need. It takes every ounce of my concentration to fight this. She injected my heart with black venom and it surges through my veins, infecting me with dark lust that poisons my senses. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to imagine my heart pounding, reversing the venomous flow, the black liquid drawing back from the very ends of my veins and turning my heart black as night.
But Renata rises and falls. She moans and gasps and pants and makes sinful noises against my ear. She nibbles at my earlobe and tugs on it with her teeth and fuck, I see Anya in my mind doing the same fucking thing. It drives me crazy when she does that and now, she’s in my head.
Get out of my head, Anya!
Shit, shit, shit.
The black poison gushes from my heart, pulsing through my veins, masking any color, and coating my blood in the pitch-black toxin of pure aching need. It’s a lost cause from the moment Anya’s face and her captivating blue eyes pop into my mind—the moment I see her, I’m lost, because the mere thought of her erases everything bad.
“You’re gonna make me come, Ezra,” Renata whispers and her words twist in my gut.
“Stop it…Stop!” I demand and then I groan.
Fuck. I can’t stop this train wreck.
My voice turns to a hopeless, aching beg for her to stop. “Renata, please…”
But she only hears my begging and interprets it as me wanting her to do this. She becomes a rutting, desperate animal, a true fucking cougar in the wild taking down her prey—me.
And she really is taking me down because I feel all the blackened, poisoned blood in my body rush to my groin. I feel the familiar tightness coiling low and deep, tugging through the base of my cock, and I know it’s going to happen in seconds. She’s going to win. These few seconds of knowing are the most painful because I’m about to come inside a woman who isn’t Anya.
Renata squeezes everything—my hips with her knees, my cock with her pussy, my heart in her fucking hands—and she gets exactly what she wanted from me.
I come inside her with a groan filled with heartache. My body feels incredible but my soul tears in two. As Renata comes from the pulsing waves of my swelling cock as I orgasm, nausea sets in and my body trembles.
I feel sick.
I feel disgusting.
I feel shame and guilt like I’ve never felt before.
I feel violated in a way I never thought possible.
Is this what Anya felt every time she was raped?
As soon as I think about it, tears creep down my cheeks and a broken sob escapes me. This is vulnerability in its rawest form, and though I despise the way it makes me feel, my breakdown is because of what I feel for my blue-eyed girl.
Renata climbs off me when she’s done. She smooths down her gown and covers her naked chest as she pulls the straps back onto her shoulders. She bends and grabs my boxer briefs from the floor, tossing them at me carelessly as she slinks across the room to straighten her appearance in the mirror.
My heart empties of substance and collapses in on itself, sinking inside me like a black hole. It feels like a void that all the best parts of me circle around, constantly in threat of being sucked inside it and lost forever.
Did Anya’s heart hollow out like this every time they raped her?
My girl is the strongest person on the face of this Earth. She’s survived against insurmountable odds. She’s stared death in the face, and though she’s been tempted to chase it, she’s found a way to stay strong and endure the shitshow that was forced upon her. She survived through this awful feeling of rawness, brokenness, hopelessness—and still found a way to love me.
She loves me.
But I don’t deserve it.
Luca drops my bound hands after Renata gives him a quick nod. I grab my underwear in my lap and stand, pulling it on as quickly as I can because I urgently need that barrier of protection. I never would’ve thought that underwear could be this damn important to me.
“I suppose you were right,” Renata says, turning around to face me again. “I think I will tell Anya about what we’ve done. I’m sure she’ll enjoy knowing you came inside another woman.”
She chuckles and a burning rage rinses away my own pain in favor of delivering it to her. Before I can think about the consequences of my actions, I charge for her. I hear Luca shout at me, but I’m faster than he is. I barrel into Renata’s back, shoving her down to the floor. She manages to roll from her stomach to her back before I slam to my knees, straddling her tiny waist.
My hands are still bound at the wrists, but that doesn’t stop me from wrapping my fingers around her throat. I want to snap it in two. I squeeze hard in my rage, my thumbs finding the hollow of her throat and pressing down hard. I hope I collapse her fucking windpipe. She gasps and writhes beneath me, her eyes popping wide as her slender fingers scratch at mine, trying to claw me away.
I throttle her until I can’t anymore, until Luca rips me away from her and slams me to the floor instead. I kick and swing my arms. My bound fists collide with the side of his face, knocking him sideways to the floor. I scramble to get up, to get to Renata in my blind rage.
But then lightning strikes through my neck, the shock of my collar seizing control of my limbs as Renata presses the button on the remote she got to just in the nick of time. She holds it down, longer than she ever has before, ensuring that my body is nice and limp so she can control me.
I’m still on my back on the floor, watching her huff and puff to catch her breath as she stands above me. I don’t know if my face muscles are responding yet, but internally, I smile seeing the red marks on her throat and the spots that will turn into bruises before long.
She clears her throat. “Lorenzo,” she says to herself. “Luca, take him in the hallway.”