Once a Myth

I’d signed because one man a year for four years was survivable. I’d signed because I’d rather have a guarantee of an ending, than battle for the unknown escape that may or may not eventuate.

But…four men a month?

One a week?

One hundred and ninety two strangers who would touch me, fuck me, make me take this dreadful, heinous, body-stealing, mind-breaking, thought-silencing, rational-killing drug?

No!

No way.

In a flash of coherency, I launched at him.

One moment, I rubbed myself over my knickers in full view of this monster—hating myself, cursing myself, unable to fucking stop—the next, I toppled him backward and straddled his hips.

My coherency faltered, falling beneath the crippling, clawing greed.

God, I needed. I craved. I arched and spread my legs, pressing down until our groins connected.

I couldn’t control it.

It was as if tiny monsters ran in my bloodstream, turning me against myself, shredding my decency, my common-sense, deleting every ethic and moral I’d ever had.

I hated it.

I hate him.

I went to slap him, but he grunted, locking possessive hands on my hips.

The second he touched me, it was all over.

I quaked. Any remaining shred of who I was became tinder under a glowing lava of lust. It sparked, caught fire, incinerated me to ash.

My skin blazed. It burned. It hurt. It hurt so much to be bruised and bitten.

I couldn’t stop it.

My hand fell from the almost-slap, landing on his chest. I undulated on top of him, trying to get off, desperate to dispel the driving, suffocating need to come before he threw me away.

If I came, maybe I could get back in control of myself.

If I gave in for just a second, I might get free.

Please!

For a fraction of a moment, his blue gaze shot black, and he jerked me impossibly hard onto him. The seam of his zipper caught my clit. The violent pressure of being ground onto him made stars supernova in my core.

Yes.

No.

Fuck.

My eyes flared as I screamed at myself to run like a normal person, all while my body rocked against the impressively large steel in his trousers. I was crazy with need. And he was as horny as I was, yet he hadn’t taken the drug.

He’d turned me into this animal.

My lack of control turned him on.

His stare trapped me in place. He drove upward with his hips.

Another whip of desire dragged an embarrassing cry from my lips.

My hate coiled with need.

My fury plaited with yearning.

Every synapsis and instinct that kept me alive switched from survival to sex.

I trembled under salacious perversion and the unbearable, unbearable need to come.

He never stopped glaring as I rocked on him, using him, stealing something of him because he’d stolen all of me.

I hyperventilated as the coiling, clambering orgasm barrelled from my fingertips to my toes and ricocheted into my pussy.

Yes.

Yes.

Holy…

My head fell back. My mouth opened.

He tried to shove me away—to prevent me from finding release, but I was already too far gone.

For the first time in my twenty-two years of life, I let go.

I allowed the sensations of being fully swept away to snatch me, trap me, wring me dry as my internal muscles squeezed to breaking point then shattered outward.

I rode him.

I dug ten fingernails into his chest as I shamelessly screamed, thrust, and stole every droplet of pleasure from him.

I’d never felt anything like this.

Even when in the middle of sex, clutching Scott’s warm body, feeling him pump inside me; even mid-orgasm that I’d grown proficient at giving myself in the shower—nothing felt as good as this.

As all of this.

Nothing.

This was something else.

This wasn’t legal.

This would kill me.

Need crackled like electric shocks beneath my skin. The drive to have a cock inside me so cruel and clamorous, it was as violent as hail bouncing off my naked body.

The two elements combined—fire and ice—made me a trembling, ravenous thing.

I waited for exhaustion to kick in—to be sated from the most intense release of my life—but my heart rate never slowed. The electricity didn’t stop torturing me. Another greedy command whispered darkly through my core.

There was no reprieve.

No moment when I could be sane and stop being this wanton creature, enslaved by her own perversions.

Come again.

Again.

You need it.

I couldn’t think about anything else.

But I had to think.

I had to remember what he’d said.

Something about men.

God, yes…a man. I needed a man. I needed what they could give me. I needed to be mounted and ridden. I needed to be filled and consumed.

I cried out as a full-body quake jolted me. The experience was like an all-over orgasm. My skin felt like it’d burst open. My blood boiled with bubbles of potency, and my muscles cramped from the hyper-drive my system revved at.

Closing my eyes, I wanted to die.

I wanted to escape my own body—to put it out of its misery. Slowly, despite all my efforts to stay sensible, I lost myself. The nucleus of who I was grew further and further away, buried in a tomb and covered with sands of this treacherous island.

I forgot about what was so important. I gave in to the undeniable command to come and come because I couldn’t do anything else.

I couldn’t win.

I couldn’t fight.

Vicious hands shoved me to the floor.

I bounced as he clambered to his feet. His bronze-tipped hair was no longer sleek and perfect but tussled and wild. His eyes glowed with viciousness and the same mirroring hunger to fuck.

His hand fell to his cock, squeezing the huge outline in his trousers with white-knuckled fury. “Touch me again and you’ll no longer be protected.”

“Protected?” I blinked, clutching tight to conversation, using it as a life raft.

Words.

War.

Those were important.

Not sex.

God…sex.

Stop it!

“Protected as a goddess. The price I can charge for you is all that’s keeping me from destroying you.”

The threat echoed with sexual promise, but it also vibrated with truth. It whispered that I needed that protection. I shouldn’t throw away my value because, if he took me, I would never be leaving this island.

Four years from now.

Never from now.

He’d kill me.

And with the way my body begged and howled for his, I’d probably scream in ecstasy and let him.

And that was delicious ice water thrown directly on my face. Imaginary ice cubes bounced off my brow with coherency.

I was lucid…just.

Dangerous. Dangerous.

This isn’t a game.

Snap out of it!

I tugged on my tangled hair, doing my best to yank sense into my chemically altered brain.

Amazingly, another wisp of sexual fog receded, bringing a homicidal embarrassment that I’d been reduced to nothing more than a rutting creature, demented with need, lowered to a desperate version that I would never ever have permitted myself to become.

“You can stay here until you’ve wrung your system dry.” He growled under his breath as he visibly struggled to take his hand away from his cock. “Once again, you’ve destroyed your own welcome party, Eleanor Grace. You should be out sunbathing on the beach by now, but instead, I have to lock you in my office so you don’t fuck one of my valued guests.”