Pretty Stolen Dolls (12 page)

“Please…” My plea fades into a whisper when his hand continues to travel south, “I’m on my period.”

He chuckles and the vibrations shake my very soul. “I know. You’ve been leaking down your thighs all week. But you’re nearly done bleeding, dirty little doll.”

“I don’t want—” My words die in my throat the moment he touches me between my legs. I squirm to get away, but he rubs me in a place that jolts electricity through me.

He knew my body better than I did now, and at times, it didn’t even feel like my own. It was like my own body was betraying me and craved to feel the release he offered. It’s my only escape out of this place.

“Lie back and let me love you,” he murmurs, his fingers massaging circles below the thatch of my pubic hair. With each swirl of his strong fingers, I get swept up into this sick nightmare further and further.

Pleasure pulsates through me, numbing my cuts and bruises from an outburst he had earlier when I called his latest porcelain doll ugly.

Foreign sensations still the constant roar of hate inside my head. I’m caught up in his wicked web, left for him to devour in some way I can’t even comprehend or anticipate.

Before I even realize it, I’m lying on my back on the mattress. My thighs have fallen apart as he continues his assault on me, and I don’t fight it off one bit.

I’m usually the fighter.

I normally claw at him and hiss and scream when he hurts me.

But he’s done something to my mind by being gentle, by transitioning what we shared before to this new thing he does with my body.

He finally broke me.

And I’m letting him do things I never knew were possible.

“Oh…” I whine, every muscle in my body tightening with the need for release.

Release of what?

“That’s it, pretty little doll. Show me you love me.”

Tears well in my eyes. I’m weak—so darn weak for not pushing him away. I should kick him in the face. Run while I can. Yet, I don’t. It’s futile anyway. He’s too strong,

“Oh!”

“Relax,” he states, “let it happen.”

And then it does.

Whatever
it
is.

Blinding white light explodes around me in my pitch black cell. A pleasure I never knew existed possesses my body until I’m shuddering without abandon. Nothing makes sense. Benny hurts me. And now he touches me in ways that feel good.

I’m lost in my thoughts when his heavy body falls over mine, crushing me beneath him.

I can feel his…

“Oh God,” I moan when the tip of his penis pushes against my slick opening.

I start to cry out in disgust of myself. I have mixed reactions and emotions, my mind telling me one thing, but my body saying another. Human contact in any form after a while becomes longed for.

His mouth on mine silences me. He’s never put his mouth on mine. He’s never kissed me on the lips.

What’s happening?

“Shhh,” he murmurs, hot breath tickling my lips as he begins pushing his thickness deep inside me.

He doesn’t normally care if he hurts me.

He loves to hurt me.

I don’t understand.

I sob as the pain of letting him bring such pleasures conflicts me. His thrusts increase and he begins pounding away, getting rougher, plowing into me so hard, my body jolts and shifts beneath him. It feels as though he’s ripping me in two. And for all I know, maybe he is. Maybe he’s going to rip me apart and consume the remnants of my soul.

“Shhh, I love you, pretty little doll.”

Sobs choke my throat as tears streak down my cheeks, causing me to hyperventilate. It’s official. I’m in hell. He remains still inside me while I attempt to catch my breath.

“You’re mine. All mine. Love me, my pretty little doll,” he murmurs, his lips finding my neck. He suckles my flesh and begins kissing me in an almost reverent way that confuses me. I’m so caught up in his kisses, I don’t realize he’s also massaging just above where he’s inside me. Curls of pleasure begin to build again and the pain of him within me subsides.

And I need…

I lie there, my hands fisted at my sides, but as he makes me feel good again, the urge to touch him takes over.

Contact. Connection.

My fingers skitter up his sculpted shoulders as a fantasy begins playing in my mind.

That he loves us now.

He’ll be kind.

He’ll let us go.

He’s changing. This will all be over soon.

The thought is fleeting. He will never let his dolls go.

His lips find mine again and he kisses me with an emotion I feel down to my very being. He believes this is love. That this is real.

It’s not.

But if I play along, maybe he’ll take me out of my cell.

I could see Macy…

We could get away.

I slide my fingers into his hair and kiss him back with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. He bucks into me and it hurts, but if I let him believe he’s claiming me down to a cellular level, then maybe he really will fall and want to be with me outside these walls. His body consumes mine and I get lost in the role I’m playing.

The pleasure overrules the pain, distracting me to the point that I’m a willing participant, pretend or not.

My fingers grip at his long, curly hair and I spread my legs as far apart as they’ll go.

He drives into me powerfully—reminding me once again he’s a man and I’m just his doll. But the way he whispers kisses over my lips as though I am precious to him makes me think I’m succeeding in making him love me for real. Perhaps I’m growing powerful too. Do breasts and body hair and periods play tricks on men? Am I turning into his woman in his eyes?

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he grunts, nipping at my lip, biting down and drawing blood. It’s his way of being playful, loving even. He likes to paint my lips red with blood.

The sound of his skin slapping mine makes my flesh heat. A building within me starts pulsing like before, but more powerful. I need the sensation again like I need to breathe. “Do you love me?”

His words startle me, but his fingers never stop moving between my legs. He never slows his thrusting. Those lips I hate never stop kissing me.

No!

“Y-Yes,” I stammer.

I hate you!

He groans. “I’m going to come.”

That means he’ll be finished soon. I’m trying to plan my escape when pleasure sears through me once again—hot, white, wicked. It triggers a response within him too. His penis seems to double in size, then a rush of hot liquid pours into me.

My body is mush. I’m nothing but a rag doll—his rag doll.

He slips out of me and the heat runs down my butt crack to the mattress below me. I lie there unmoving as he shuffles about. I’ve dazed out for who knows how long and don’t come to until I feel a warm, wet cloth between my legs.

“You’re so dirty, little doll.”

For once, his words don’t make me shudder. I let him cleanse me and don’t fight him. My mind is scrambled and confused, but it’s the first time he’s come into my cell where I’ve felt like I had some power back.

It’s the first time he’s done anything nice.

What if he does these things to Macy?

The thought seizes my lungs and I choke out my words. “D-Do you do this with my sister?”

His chuckle is warm in the dark room. It doesn’t chill me like usual. It creates an inner burning that didn’t exist before.

“Do you want me to?”

No. Please…no.

I shake my head hard.

His hand grips my chin and his gaze delves into my own, hunting past the layers of defense to get to the vulnerability beneath.

“Just you, dirty little doll,” he assures me. “It’s just you.”

The memory of Benny is too fresh. My heart pounds in my chest and it’s almost as if I can still feel the disgusting throb he used to evoke from me between my thighs. Benny fucked me up in the head and turned my body against me more times than I can remember. All these years later, and he still finds me. He still knows how to make my thoughts betray me.

I may not be in that cell anymore, but Benny is every bit still my master.

“
S
COTT.
P
HILLIPS.
M
Y OFFICE.
N
OW
!” Chief Stanton’s voice roars from down the hall.

My eyes lift from my report, meeting Dillon’s confused stare. He gives me a clipped nod before standing. Normally he’d be busting my balls, trying to rile me up, but something changed after this afternoon in the coffee shop.

We became partners.

Two people dedicated to solve an important case together.

An unstoppable duo.

Friends?

When I stand and pass him, his palm presses into my lower back just above my ass as he guides us down the hallway. And dammit if I don’t shiver at his touch while my flesh heats where his hand rests. I attempt to push away wrong thoughts and focus on whatever shit-show we’re about to walk into.

As we reach the office, Dillon drops his hand and stalks off ahead of me. Stanton is standing beside the door, red-faced and heaving angry breaths.

What the hell did we do now?

Once inside, he slams the door so hard, I let out a squeak of surprise. Dillon growls and stands between Chief and me, as if to shield me from his rage. As much as that warms me, it’ll only piss our boss off even more. I touch Dillon’s arm softly before finding my seat. He follows after me.

“I want to know why you two thought it was okay to go against direct orders,” Stanton seethes as he lurches himself into his chair. He leans forward, elbows on his desk, and glares at me in particular.

“I don’t know what you mean—” I start, but he cuts me off with a slam of his fist to the desk.

“Bullshit!”

“Okay, Chief, you need to calm down,” Dillon barks.

But Stanton is far from calm. He’s enraged. I’ve pissed him off a lot, sure, but I have never seen him this out of control before.

“Alena Stevens. Missing girl. I told Lieutenant Wallis to have you two reassigned. You were to work the homicide at the doll shop. Why in the ever-loving hell would you continue to pursue the missing person case?”

Dillon jerks his head to me and frowns. I shake my head, rolling my eyes, my stare meeting that of Stanton’s. “I know, but I was in the neighborhood and thought the cases might be related. Turns out, they are.”

Chief’s face turns so red, I think he might explode. “Do you have any idea what sort of media catastrophe you caused, Phillips?”

I dart my gaze to Dillon and he’s just as perplexed. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Oh, don’t try the sir bullshit on me now, Detective.” He grips his computer monitor and drags it around for us to view. “You told that woman whoever took her daughter was the same person who took you all those years ago!”