My favorite thing about Braxton is the vein that pulsates on his forehead near his temple when he’s pissed. I didn’t mean to dazzle him with my southern charm but when he was about to go ape shit on Stephanie, I knew I had to step in. His eyes were daggers and it was only a matter of a few moments before he did something evil to the poor, innocent girl.
The pill bottle smashed in my cleavage is uncomfortable but I bide my time. When they all launch into more business talk after dessert, I excuse myself to use the ladies room. With a pep in my step, I eagerly rush to the hallway bathroom. I’m already pulling the bottle from my breast before I even get the door closed.
Hydrocodone.
Fucking score!
The moment that woman mentioned her recent surgery, I knew she’d have pain pills on her. Now, I eagerly pour three into my palm and toss them in my mouth. I drink from the sink to swallow them down and hide the bottle in a cabinet between two folded hand towels. I’ll come back for these later.
I’ve barely made it back out of the bathroom when I bump into Trevor. The man is handsome enough but he’s nowhere near as sexy as his boss. Earlier, when I sucked Brax’s cock, I actually wanted things to escalate with him despite his being a prick. The thought was abhorrent. I wanted to humiliate him the way he tried to humiliate me. I wanted to rub his face in his shame.
But now that my anger has simmered, I’m back to just wanting him to fuck the hell out of me.
The thought upsets me but as the pills enter my bloodstream mixed with the wine, I decide I don’t care. I want his thick cock inside of me.
My thoughts are interrupted by Trevor’s husky voice. “I must say, you’re the prettiest little toy I’ve ever seen,” Trevor murmurs, his hands finding my hips. “Want me to show you what it feels like to be with a normal man?”
I haven’t been with a normal man in a long time. At least not since my first boyfriend, Seth from high school. Before I met him—the one I do the drugs not to think about.
Seth was a nice normal guy with his normal penis and his normal Toyota Camry and his normal life. I’d considered a future with him until I realized I’d be fucking bored out of my abnormal mind. Sometimes I wonder if he ever found a normal girl.
“Did you space out there, beautiful?” Trevor says with a chuckle. “Come here.”
He drags me back into the bathroom and locks the door behind us. His mouth finds my neck and he drops kisses down my throat. The room spins and I wonder if maybe I took too many pills considering it’s been awhile since I’ve used and I’ve had wine. My knees buckle and he catches me before I fall.
“Looks like someone’s had too much wine,” he says soothingly. “Let me take care of you, Bunny.”
I cringe at the name. Coming from Braxton, it isn’t so bad. But from Trevor, it grosses me out. “J-J-Jessica,” I slur out, my tongue seeming thick in my mouth.
“Shhh,” he whispers.
I gasp when he bends me over the counter and the cool marble shocks my hot skin. I’m vaguely aware of my dress being pushed up my hips and my panties being tugged down. His touch is soft and quick.
The room spins again and I grip the countertop to hold on. Trevor’s belt jingles as he sets to undoing his pants.
What’s happening?
Brax.
Braxton will fix this.
This is wrong, that much I know despite my haze.
“Braxton,” I croak out.
“Shush,” Trevor hisses behind me. “I’ll be quick, whore.”
I find my voice and shout. “Braxton!”
His warm hand covers my mouth and he fingers my opening. “You’re not even wet. This is going to hurt, Bunny.”
My eyes slam shut as I wait for the inevitable. It’s not like this is the first time drugs have gotten me into a situation like this. But the inevitable doesn’t come. Instead, a crack of the doorframe makes me open my eyes. Brax’s psychotic glare meets mine in the mirror. I notice that my eye makeup is streaked from the tears—I didn’t even realize I was crying.
“You stupid motherfucker!”
I slide to the floor as Brax drags Trevor out of the bathroom. My head whacks the toilet on the way down and the room spins.
“Miss, are you okay?”
Dubois.
His strong arms are lifting me. I’m flying. He carries me away and away. I don’t feel modest knowing my ass hangs out. Instead, I feel safe.
I must doze off for a bit because when I wake, he’s walking me into the horror room.
“I’m going to be sick.”
He rushes me to the toilet and holds my hair back just as I puke up the pills, the delicious dinner, and the twenty-eight hundred dollar wine.
Clarity begins to clear the fog in my head and I groan. Back to reality. Back to the God-awful fucking purple Princess Room. Back to the evil sonofabitch who tricked me into signing some stupid-ass agreement.
I stand on shaky feet and wonder why Brax hasn’t come to check on me or why Dubois is no longer here. Once I’m sure I won’t be sick again, I brush my teeth with the toothbrush that was provided to me. When I finish, I stare at the woman in the mirror.
What happens after six months?
For a long time, I haven’t focused any farther than my next fix of heroin. But now? Now, I’m concerned that I’m not cut out for this life. If drugs are all that I live for, why am I even still around living?
I sigh and find some face wash from a cabinet. It doesn’t take long, but soon I’ve scrubbed away all of Cartier’s hard work. My dark hair still looks pretty in long waves in front of my shoulders but my eyes seem innocent now that they’re free of the dark makeup.
The dress doesn’t feel right on me anymore. I crave to wear something comfortable and warm. As soon as the dress hits the floor, I scan my appearance in the mirror. The black lacey ensemble underneath was a waste.
“What now?” I ask myself.
Braxton’s stormy figure appears behind me. My eyes widen, drinking him in. He’s no longer wearing his suit jacket or tie. His white dress shirt is splattered with blood and his hair is a wild mess. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. Or so ruggedly masculine.
“Did he fuck what’s mine?” he snarls.
I shiver, not because I’m afraid, but his possessive tone turns me on. “You broke down the door before he had a chance.”
My thoughts flit back to earlier—how I was so eager to take the pills and let the numbness take over that I didn’t even have any concern for my safety. A man nearly raped me and I let it happen. Tears well in my eyes with anger at myself. My bottom lip trembles and I turn to face the man that’s been playing games with me since I met him a little over a week ago.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him with a quiver of my chin.
His brows furrow together as he studies me silently. After a moment, he nods. “You’re my toy. All mine.”
I allow myself to be gathered in his warm embrace and I snuggle against his chest. “What did you do to him?”
He sighs and strokes my hair. “I killed him.”
The thought should alarm me but in some small way, it doesn’t. And that thought alarms me. That I’ve become so jaded and battered that I am indifferent to the loss of a life. But when you get pushed, and pushed, and pushed . . . well, yeah. I’m there. That bastard, like every other ass in my life, tried to take advantage of me. And even though Brax is a cruel, psychotic prick, he cares for me more than any other man I’ve encountered in the last decade. “Thank you.”
His body stiffens. “That doesn’t . . . upset you?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I laugh but it’s humorless. “I’ve had a lifetime of being upset. Now I’m just numb.”
He’s quiet and doesn’t respond to my words.
“I’ve been hiding for so long. I just want to feel something again.” My words are whispered but he seems to hear them. “Even if it only means for six months.”
His hands travel over my shoulders and they gently wrap around my throat. The blue in his eyes is gone and the stormy grey replaces it. “I want to make you feel, Bunny,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over mine. He squeezes slightly. “I want to hurt you.”
My hands cover his and I nod. “I want you to hurt me,” I say, and then I try the unfamiliar word out on my tongue, “master.”
His eyes slam closed and when he reopens them, they’re wild. I don’t know the man staring back at me. He’s not the smug jerk who conned me into signing a stupid agreement. He isn’t the suave businessman who intimidates people with one of his signature scowls.
No, the man staring at me isn’t a man at all.
He’s evil.
Dark and sinister.
A demon.
And I want him.
“Please,” I beg, “show me what you like. I need to connect with you. I’ll show you I can be what you want. I crave for you to cut through my numbness and draw the feeling out of me. The pain. The pleasure. I want it all.”
His mouth seizes mine and despite the uncontained desire to do something twisted to me, I sense that he’s proud of my submission to him.
“This won’t be sweet,” he warns, his lips hovering over mine.
A whimper remains lodged in my throat. “I know. I’m ready.”
He tears away from my mouth and devours me with his stare. “It won’t be sweet and it’ll hurt. A lot. But you’ll also feel things you’ve never felt before with a man. I’ll own every part of you, inside and out.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Damn right,” he says with a growl but then his features soften a bit as his brows pinch together in concern. “Are you sure that you want this considering all that’s happened tonight? Don’t lie and tell me you’re okay if you’re going to start crying the moment I’m balls deep inside of you. I may be an asshole but I’m not a rapist. Now’s the time, Bunny. Your get out of jail free card.”
“I promise,” I assure him with a defiant lift of my chin. “I want this.”
Before I barely finish my statement, his strong hand seizes my wrist and he hauls me out of the bathroom. The moment the purple room comes into view, my world spins.
“N-N-Not here! Take me to your room or the fucking couch but please not in here,” I beg.
Dark, swirls of intrigue twist the grey in his eyes as he attempts to understand my fear. His chest heaves and I can see him almost physically drinking it up. This should scare me. He’s a damn lunatic. An animal.
But it doesn’t scare me.
I want him.
I know that with him, my degradation would only be matched by the height of my pleasure.
Just not here.
“I should make you,” he grunts, “but lucky for you, I prefer to fuck in the Hole.”
Swallowing down a cry of joy, I nod. “Take me there. Do bad things to me.”
His growl is almost inhuman as he drags me out of the purple hell and down the hallway to the black door. He produces a key from his pants pocket and pushes it into the lock. With a quick twist of his wrist, he strides through the door and into the chilly darkness. I shiver and I’m not sure if it’s because of how he slams the door or from how he locks it as if I’m his prisoner who might try to escape.
“What’s that smell?” I hiss under my breath. Fumbling in the dark, I search for a light switch and step on a soda can.
“Oh, Bunny.” His voice slices through the darkness, chilling me to the bone. “You should feel right at home.”
A clicking noise off to my left has me jerking my head in that direction. Soon, a long fluorescent light over a table flickers and hums before it brightens half of the dark space. Brax stands there, slowly unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt, his turbulent eyes never leaving mine.
I tear my gaze from his and my eyes skitter over the awful room. Graffiti paints the walls with words like slut, whore, and bitch. The room smells like piss and garbage. My stomach tightens in my belly and I wonder if I’ll puke in this shithole. Trash litters the edge of the walls and a dirty, stained mattress lies in the center of the room.
The room is disturbing, and oddly familiar to what I came from just over a week ago. Funny how in such a short time I have already forgotten how vile it was. But now, as I take it all in, I’m horrified at how I’d been living.
It’s amazing I survived.
Men fucked me. Stole from me. Hit me. Drugged me. Raped me.
And I kept coming back for more.
“I don’t feel so well,” I say with a gasp, attempting not to suck in any more of the putrid air.
Brax laughs from the corner and it’s bone chilling. His chest glistens with sweat despite the freezing-ass room and I shiver. I’m not sure why he wants to have sex in here. This room doesn’t belong in this gorgeous house. This room is sinister and evil.
“I bet you’re craving a hit, aren’t you whore?” he sneers. “Want me to find your pretty little vein and fuck you up with your precious skag? Is that what you want? What you deserve?”
I did deserve it. My heart flutters at the mention of the drug I’ve desired for a long fucking time. I was a whore, a slut, an animal who couldn’t stop myself from craving things that would only put me in greater danger. But at the moment, all I want to do is get out of this dump.
“N-N-No,” I chatter. My voice sounds unsure. Is he really offering me a hit? It would certainly make all of this disappear. Then, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted and I couldn’t give two shits about it.
Another shudder wracks through me. But then I wouldn’t feel his hot body pressed against mine. I wouldn’t quake with the orgasms he would give me. I wouldn’t feel his possessive tongue in my mouth, owning me.
I meet his indignant glare and lift my chin. With a shake of my head, I approach him. His body visibly shakes with barely controlled hate. I’ve seen this look in a person’s eyes before. There’s no calming them when they’re like this. They will do what they want to do. It would be in my best interest to just go with it.
“I don’t want the drugs. I want you,” I whisper, “master.”
As much as I hate giving him the satisfaction of his stupid title, I know he gets off on it somehow. If that turns his anger into desire, I’ll be his good little toy and give him what he needs.
He groans when I reach him and begin unfastening his pants. I keep my eyes trained on his and lick my lips in a teasing manner. Braxton can be my drug for the night. As long as I can focus on him, this shitty room will disappear. Just like it does when I’m high.
Difference is though, I actually want to have sex with him unlike those other punters in the past.
His pants hit the floor and his cock strains to be set free from his boxers. At least I know he’s turned on by me. I’m not the ugly little, spaced out thing he picked up a week ago. Now, he’s getting Jessica.
I yelp when his hands slide roughly up my throat and into my hair. His lips drop to mine and he kisses me brutally, holding me to him while he bruises me with his mouth. The moan that he draws from me is quiet but needy. And as soon as his warm cock is in my cold hands, I whimper with an unspoken plea for him to fuck me with it.
“Jesus, Bunny,” he hisses, hot breath mixing with mine. “You’re fucking with my head. You’re fucking up what I want to do to you.”
I stroke his hard length and pull away to look at his shadowed face. “My body is yours. Do what you want because I want it too.”
This provokes him because he growls and slides his palm to my throat. With a tight squeeze, he nearly lifts me from the ground by my neck and walks me backwards. I hold onto his wrist, but don’t try to pull him off.
“Bunny, you were right about your body belonging to me,” he says with an ominous rumble. “But, you were wrong about wanting it. By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to beg to be anywhere but near me.”
He tosses me roughly onto the mattress and it knocks the breath out of me. Brax is used to dominating his power over everyone, men included. But I’ve lived this life before. He might dominate my body but he’ll never own my mind.
With a lift of my chin and a sweet smile, I say with a southern drawl, “Do your worst, handsome. I’m not afraid.”