NERO: Chapter 57

“Wha––” My question turns into a scream when my body is harshly dragged down the mattress.

There’s a large hand gripping my ankle, pulling me to the end of the bed. Causing my sequined covered back to catch on the sheets.

When I try to kick out with my free leg, another large hand grips that ankle, holding me still.

Even without seeing him, I know it’s Nero, but that doesn’t stop the fear from coming.

“Don’t!” I cry, struggling against his grip.

I blink rapidly against the brightness, I don’t know how long it’s been since I laid down; I fell asleep with the lights on, and now they’re blinding me as I try to make sense of what’s happening.

“Please!” I sob. “I’m sorry.”

My vision is blurry, but I can see the outline of Nero standing at the foot of the bed, imposing in his all-black, while he drags me toward him.

His dark laugh ripples over my skin. “Not yet, you’re not. But you will be.”

My lungs struggle to pull in air.

This is it.

This is how I die.

At the hands of the man who took my virginity. The fear I’ve had for a decade finally comes true. Only it’s a different man than I’ve always dreaded. It’s a new one.

I try to pull my legs free of his grip. “P-please! Just let me leave!” My hands flail to the sides, searching for a weapon that I know isn’t there.

“Leave?” Nero scoffs. “You’re never leaving my sight again.”

I choke on my next breath.

Wait. What?

I repeat his words in my mind. “You’re not…?”

His grip on my ankles tightens, even though I’m laying still. “I’m not what, Payton?”

I swallow. “You’re not going to kill me?”

I know it’s the wrong thing to say when pure rage covers his features.

In one motion, he pulls my legs straight, then twists his hands, flipping me over onto my stomach.

Disorientated, I don’t have time to fight, before he’s trapped my legs between his thighs.

He grunts when I buck my body against the hold, but it doesn’t do anything to free my legs.

In response, the hem of my dress is jerked up, revealing my new lacy pair of boy shorts to his view. And my face flames red, because they’re light blue, to match the shoes and purse I bought for tonight. An outfit I bought for him.

“Nero,” I beg. Not sure what I’m begging for.

Forgiveness? Freedom? My life?

There’s a click, and my body goes rigid.

I know that sound.

It’s the distinct sound of a switchblade locking open.

My brief hope is dashed. He must’ve meant never leave his sight alive.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I sob. “I promise. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

Cool metal slides across my skin, just below my panties, on the curve of my cheek.

“What won’t you tell them, Payton?”

Black dread tinges the edge of my vision. “Anything,” I choke. “I won’t tell anybody anything.”

The metal moves, the blade slipping underneath the lace, the tip pointed up toward my back.

“I’m not worried about what you might say.” There’s pressure, then the fabric gives way, the elastic band at the top sliced through. Then another flick, and he’s cut through my panties on both sides. “I’m more worried about what you might do.”

One of his palms presses into the center of my back, pinning me to the mattress. But it’s not necessary. The fear and confusion has me frozen in place.

The lace is lifted off my ass, and I picture him gripping the fabric, as he slowly pulls it straight up. The now loose material follows his movement, bunching up in my slit and dragging over my clit.

The surge of pleasure is so strong, so unexpected, I moan.

He grunts in response but says nothing. Instead, a single fingertip draws a line across my tender flesh, and I know he’s tracing the bruise that’s already forming from my fall.

The sigh he lets out is full of disappointment, and I feel it in my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” I feel compelled to whisper.

“Not yet,” Nero whispers back, then his hand cracks down on my ass.

The dull ache flairs to a bright flash of pain, and I suck in a shocked gasp. But then his hand is back, softly soothing the sting, pressing just hard enough to remind me of the bruise. Somehow it’s also stoking a fire in my core.

A whimper leaves me, my senses warring between pain and pleasure. Warring between fighting and giving in.

“Don’t touch me,” I try to shout it, but it comes out weak.

The hand on my back slides down to my ass, the hilt of the knife still there, pressed between me and his palm. The flat side of the blade against my plump skin.

His body steps back, so my knees are between his thighs, keeping me trapped.

With a grip on both globes of my ass, he spreads me.

I have half a second to feel his warm breath before his tongue swipes up the length of me.

My body jolts at the contact and he releases his grip on my bruised cheek only to slap his hand back down. “Hold still,” he growls. “If you cut yourself on this knife, you will not like the consequences.”

I freeze again, feeling the edge of the blade graze across my lower back.

My hands ball in the fabric beneath me. “Get away from me.”

“No.” Nero buries his face into me again, this time flattening his tongue over my asshole.

My pussy clenches so hard, I’m afraid I might come from that act alone.

“Stop!” I cry, with actual tears in my eyes, even as he licks me again.

I don’t want him to stop. I want him to make love to me. I want him to touch me in that way that makes me feel special. I want to be the only woman he sees.

But I’m not.

Tonight proved that.

“I told you,” Nero grits out, as he straightens up, his hands grabbing hold of my dress. “You had one chance to tell me no. But you didn’t. You gave me that sweet virginity instead.” The fabric at my shoulders is pulled tight before he slices up the length of my dress, with my bra suffering the same fate. “Now you’re mine.” Cool air flows over my back as the torn fabric is folded open. “Until the day we die.”

We?

“But––” My body is vibrating, and I can’t keep hold of my thoughts.

“But nothing.” Nero snaps the words, dragging my body back toward him until my hips are right at the edge of the bed. With legs hanging off, my knees bump into the bed frame while my toes try to find purchase. His hand is back to holding me down, so I can’t get my feet on the floor.

“But you were with her!” I shout the accusation. The memory of his hand on her hip seared into my brain.

“She’s nothing!” he shouts back.

“Then what am I?” I cry the question.

“I already told you,” Nero growls, dropping his weight onto my back. “You’re mine.”

Then, with one hard push, he sinks his cock all the way inside me.