Pretty Stolen Dolls (27 page)

“Spread your fucking legs,” he roars, and a tremor murmurs through me as I part my legs.

“Lift your ass and spread wider.”

The bed isn’t that wide and my knee shifts onto the metal frame as I push my ass into a prone position. His warm palm slides over my ass cheeks.

“I love this cunt, you know that? It’s so fucking pretty. The pink is the perfect color for blush,” he muses, leaning forward. His face smooshes against me as he inhales and then pulls away.

“I didn’t get to taste her.”

Her?

“But I bet she would smell and taste just as delectable as you do, dirty little doll.”

I wait for his tongue to touch me there, but only cold air assaults me as his weight leaves the bed. “Don’t move.”

The clanking of my cell alerts me to him exiting and the door is left ajar. My head swims with thoughts of escape, but he’s gone only a moment and I haven’t moved. I would have never gotten to the door, let alone passed through it. I’m too busy thinking of my lack of escape to react when he snaps a handcuff around my wrist and to the bedpost. I wiggle my hand, but it’s firm and I’m bound. Another clicking and cold metal snaps over my other wrist, attaching me to the other side.

“Ben…” I stop myself from finishing when his body stiffens next to me.

A cuff wraps around my ankle and then the bed, keeping me stuck in this position.

What’s happening?

He repeats the process and my breathing increases in fear. The hiss and whip of the air as he extends a baton-looking object in his hand makes me flinch. His feet move to the bottom of the bed where I’m splayed open, vulnerable.

Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.

Whack!

Pain like nothing before explodes against my exposed flesh.

So she phoned for the doctor to be quick, quick, quick.

Whack!

“P-please s-s-stop,” I heave, gagging on the saliva filling my mouth as tears I swore I’d never shed for him again pour from my eyes.

The doctor came with his bag and his hat,

Whack!

“Why? Please!”

And he knocked at the door with a rat-a-tat-tat.

Whack!

I’m going to pass out.

He looked at the dolly and he shook his head,

Whack!

The walls of my cell fade as the sound of his torture device hitting my most private place resonates in the small space.

And he said, “Miss Polly, put her straight to bed!”

Whack!
“You’re dirty.”

He wrote on a paper for a pill, pill, pill,

Whack!
“You’re dirty!” he screams, and as I drift into a state of unconsciousness, I think I hear him cry.

“I’ll be back in the morning, yes I will, will, will.”

I wake to him on top of me. My limbs are free and I’m on my back, numb from the waist down to my knees. His heavy weight restricts my lungs from gaining air. Liquid drips onto my face and his tongue swipes it away.

“I’m so sorry,” he coos. “She did this to us. We’re not sick…you’re not sick. Tell me,” he urges, shaking my head with his giant palms grasping each side of my face.

“I know, Benjamin,” I repeat, just like he instructed me to.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I know, Benjamin.”

I gasp, catching the sorrow trying to escape my soul. He hurt me so bad. Will I ever recover from this? The darkness steals me again and keeps me for days.

It took me forever to be able to move from that bed. I pissed it and every time I thought I was going to die from the agony, Benny would come into my cell and look at his work, telling me the bruising was a sign of healing. Then he would feed me water and it would send me back into the dreamless sleep. I give Benny one thing, he was so good at hurting me, making me bleed and bruise, swell and wish for death, but scarring me on the outside wasn’t something he did. He liked me flawless for his sick perversion.

“Jade, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Huh?”

“Where did you go, baby?” Dillon questions, pulling me into his arms. “You zoned out and couldn’t hear me calling for you.”

I gulp and swallow my fear. “He’s never going to stop. He wants me back there.” I break, my legs giving out. Dillon’s arms tighten around me and he holds me to him. Then he swoops me off my feet and carries me like a husband would his new bride.

But there is nothing happy about this moment.

Fucking nothing.

I’m dying inside.

T
HE RIDE BACK TO MY
place was silent. Since we arrived, he has undressed me, dutifully attempted to wash the horrors of the day from my body in the shower, and finally helped me climb into bed. Not a tear had fallen—no, I think I cried them all out already. The sting from the salty drops are still prominent on my cheeks, my eyes red and swollen from the fallen sorrow. The only thing I can feel now is anger.

White and blinding.

And it is building.

With each ragged and exhausted breath, molten fury rages hotter and hotter within me.

Dillon must be able to feel the heat. His fingers flutter over my warm naked flesh as if he’s trying to calm the war waging inside me. I keep imagining my parents lying on slabs of cold metal, being cut into by the coroner. My mind races with their image and the thoughts that must have passed through their heads when Benny came for them…because of me.

Dirty little doll.

Why did I run? If I just stayed there, Bo would be living his life happy with someone who could give him more than I ever could. My folks wouldn’t know what ever became of Macy and me, but they would still be alive. They wouldn’t have had to die knowing what kind of monster still has their baby.

“Don’t,” Dillon breathes over me. “Don’t blame yourself for any of this.”

He kisses me on my lips, my face, my collarbone, and it drowns out the regret. His touch only adds fire to the already burning flames inside me. I want revenge. I want retribution. I want Macy back. The burning desire to fuck away the pain becomes so intense, I feel as though I may combust.

“Baby…” he murmurs, his mouth connecting with mine. “Listen to me.” He’s practically lying on top of me, crushing me with his weight.

I want him to smash me to smithereens, make me numb—steal away this explosive energy growing inside me. I’m going to self-destruct if he doesn’t cling to me and ground me to him. Maybe if he crushes me to dust and consumes the ashes…

Maybe then I won’t hurt so much inside.

Perhaps then, I’ll feel empty.

His forehead presses against mine and his eyes look as though they are melted chocolate with the late afternoon sun peeking in through the window. “Baby…” he says again.

He probably wants to assure me everything will be okay.
Nothing will ever be okay.
He probably wants to tell me to sleep so I can dull the pain
. The pain will always be a sharp reminder of the monster in my life.
He’ll probably beg me to seek counseling to find a way to deal with what Benny has done to me.
I’ll never find a way to deal until he’s gone for good.

“Baby,” he says, his voice dipping low, “we’re going to find him and we’re going to fucking slaughter him. You and me, Jade. He’s not going to get away with this. I’ll be with you every step of the way and we will end him. Not by prison. He doesn’t make it out of this alive.”

It takes a moment to process his words. Of course Dillon wouldn’t say what I expect him to. He’s Dillon Scott. Arrogant cop with a sad past. A wild card in my predictable, hellish world. My insatiable lover with a passion for revenge. I should have known better.

“Thank you.” My heart starts to throb back to life. Dillon makes me feel despite my yearning to never feel again.

He seems to know what I need because his lips crush against mine, painfully so. His kiss is deep and demanding—thorough and all-consuming. I hook my legs around his waist and urge him to me. That thick, hardened cock of his slides against my clit, weeping at the tip. I want him inside me so bad, I nearly choke out a sob, begging him.

“I know,” he assures against my mouth. “I know what you need.”

A long, drawn out moan rips from my chest as he eases his cock into me. I’m still getting used to his size. The way he seems to stretch me to capacity is dizzying.

“Fuck me hard, Dillon. Please, take it all away,” I plead, the tears now streaming down my temples.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows and shakes his head. “I know what you need, and that ain’t it, baby.”

I start to protest, but he begins bucking into me. Slow, steady thrusts. His lips rain kisses down on my face, worshipping me with every peck. I claw at his shoulders, hoping he’ll lose control like every other time and fuck me senseless. He doesn’t. Those dark brown eyes remain fixated on mine as he makes love to me.

Sure, Bo made love to me plenty of times.

Hell, even Benny thought he did, the sick twisted fuck.

But they never made me feel so utterly consumed. Dillon’s soul seems to reach into mine and cloak it with his protection and love. I feel safe—despite the tragedies I’ve faced today and in my past. Dillon finds a way to show me with his body that I’m not alone. That I’ll never have to be alone again.

“My beautiful, broken girl,” he murmurs against my mouth as he slides in and out of me in a torturous manner. “All of your pieces are mine to hold. Each shard is mine to willingly slice myself on. You’re worth the pain. In fact, I want to embrace that pain if it means, even for one second, I can take some of that pain from you.”

A sob escapes me and he kisses me softly. He rubs against me in such a way that my body begins to tingle and quiver with the need to release. This doesn’t feel like a normal orgasm—it feels deeper and on a whole other level.

“I can’t take the pain,” I admit tearfully, choking on a sob. “It’s too much, Dillon.”

His forehead presses to mine again, his pace steady. “I know, baby. Give it to me. Just give it to me.”

He kisses at the tears and over my closed lids, peppering me in delicate yet intense brushes of his lips.

The shudder that ripples within me is almost painful. Intense pleasure sears through me. I let it go. The pain that has a vise grip around my heart disappears for a moment as he groans out his own release. His heat soaks me from the inside and for one small second, I feel peace.

Dillon is peace.

I’m lost in this new world we’ve created—a world where nobody but us exists. There aren’t psycho killers or dead family members. Just Dillon and I. Peaceful. He doesn’t slip out of me as his cock softens. Instead, he slides his arms beneath me and hugs me to him, smashing me with his entire weight, lifting us so I’m straddling his lap. It’s as though he’s trying to mold our bodies into one. Our sweat soaked skin glistens under the moonlight seeping through the open blinds and he holds me while I shake.

He nuzzles my nose with his and then licks up my salty tears on my hot, swollen cheeks. It only makes me cry harder with him caring for me on such a basic level. Dillon just always seems to know what I need. Right now, he protects me and soothes me with his body. I thread my fingers into his hair, gripping him so he won’t leave me.