Destruction Page 3

  She screamed through clenched teeth, fingers digging into the soft cushions of the couch, but there was no avoiding this. It was a sharp, sudden stretch, and he bottomed out, longer and thicker than she’d expected.

  Groaning low behind her, he withdrew and forced himself back in, sending a shudder through her insides as her body stretched to accommodate him.

  “Don’t,” she hissed as he began to viciously fuck her, his grip on her face releasing when he increased his pace with low grunts of effort. The invasion was inescapable, because no matter how she struggled there was no fighting the power of him. His hand wound tightly in her hair, bowing her painfully, while his other hand pressed at the small of her back. It was only her fists clenched into the cushions that let her breathe as the ache inside started to pulse, her body gripping him involuntarily. “Stop…” she whispered.

  “You want me to stop?” He almost purred the words behind her, just before delivering another hard, deep thrust that opened her up further. “Say it.”

  “I want you to stop!” The cry was lost as he laughed low and craned her neck back harder. Pain spread through her back as she strained to lift herself up enough to ease it, a sob catching in her throat from the effort. He wasn’t going to stop. The realization settled inside her, worming its way through her conscious, infecting it and tearing her to shreds.

  Under the disbelief that it was happening, the raw dread of what would happen when he finished… she could feel the impossible, horrible, tingling beginnings of an orgasm. It was as if she had tumbled into her own personal hell, her body turning traitorous. Reaching back she tried to stop the hard thrusts, to halt the rising rush, but he simply caught her wrist and used it as further leverage to pull her against him.

  “Take it, princess. By the end of this you’re going to be my little whore.” Each brutal movement had her whimpering, her hips bruising against the back of the couch, and she tried to focus on that. To focus on the pain, the ache in her shoulder from how hard he pulled on her wrist, the pain in her neck and the fierce sting as he twisted his fist in her hair, anything but the heat coiling in her lower belly as his cock slammed against that bundle of nerves deep inside her over and over.

  Her pussy clenched tight, gripping him for a moment, and he growled behind her as she struggled to hold back, precariously walking a fine line of pleasure and pain. “Please,” she begged against the strain in her throat, another plea obliterated by his harsh breaths.

  “Shut it! I’m going to destroy you, and I’m going to make your bastard of a father watch.”

  Watch? She fought harder against his hold on her, his fingers tightening painfully until her wrist sent sharp, white-hot pain up her arm and she stopped. Went limp. Let the tears go.

  He released her hair and she dropped forward in relief, but then he grabbed for her other arm. The ratcheting sound of handcuffs gave her a surge of energy to fight again, and she managed to rip one of her hands free from his grip. His low growl was a warning, but she ignored it and tucked her free arm underneath her, shielding it as best she could. Pinning her hips against the couch, cock buried deep, he locked the first cuff a notch too tight. “Wrist. Now.”

  “Just let me go, please.” She kept her arm tucked protectively, mindlessly focused on keeping some pathetic semblance of freedom, but he leaned back and spanked her ass hard. Again, and again, and again, making his cock rock in and out of her. “PLEASE!” The fiery heat should have been only pain as she begged, but somehow it was merging with the thrumming pulse between her thighs and making it all worse. Making it all the more intense as he moved his hips against her.

  With a grunt, he reached forward, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her upper arm, ripping it back like her fight didn’t mean a thing to his strength. The cuff locked fast, and then he held onto the chain between them as he started to fuck her again.

  “No, no, no… Please!” she screamed and started to sob as the metal dug into her skin, his merciless thrusts growing rough until she was strung taut between the awful pain and unforgiving pleasure. She wasn’t sure which of them she was pleading with, him to stop, or her to hold back the orgasm she knew was floating just beyond some terrible horizon. The buzzing waves of heat inside took on a razor sharp quality, obliterating the fear until there were only her short pants of breath, her pulse racing in her ears as he pushed in. Thoughts swirled, nerve-endings sparked, delirium blending with hell — and then she came. Body on automatic. Flashes of light behind her eyes as she clenched them tight, her arms pulling at the cuffs, her body tensing under the assault of pleasure, and he laughed as he continued to slam into her.

  “Little whore,” he snarled, and then she felt his cock kick as he thrust deep, the waves of her orgasm still squeezing him against her will. It was a cacophony of emotion, pain and fear and shame and hate, and as each tried to take control of her brain, they all faded into white noise. He stayed buried inside her, his gloved hand brushing over her ass and up the curve of her waist, but her body only twitched.

  Too much.

  The chemical cocktail of terror and orgasm was fading, nothing else rushing in to fill it. Numbness was washing through her instead, neurons misfiring in a confused pattern, the white noise building to a steady hum just inside her ears. When he finally slid from her, she stayed where she was, obscenely displayed over the couch, wrists burning, not budging an inch even when she heard him walk away across the tile.

  There was something wrong with her.

  She shouldn’t have come.

  She should be screaming.

  She should have fought harder.

  Turning her face against the cushions, she felt the tears on her cheeks cooling in the air, but she couldn’t think straight. All she had were broken, unfinished thoughts.

  As his footsteps returned, heavy thumps of boots on tile, she didn’t even flinch. She barely twitched when he slid two fingers inside her, pumping them slowly. Then a third finger forced its way in, the sore ache of her pussy a quiet flash in her mind, and then the sharp stick of a needle in her ass made her jump a little. “That’s right, princess. You’re going to do everything I say.”

  “Why me?” she whispered, her wrists twisting in the cuffs.

  “Why?” he mocked as he stroked her, his fingers playing with her for a long minute in silence before he withdrew. Then he lifted her effortlessly, tossing her over his shoulder to carry her through the dim apartment. “Because.”

  It was a blithe answer that made her brows pull together as she bounced on his shoulder. When he set her down by the front door, she slumped against the wall and her mind focused on the word.

  Because?

  She wanted to scream at him, rage that she’d done nothing to deserve this — but there was definitely something wrong with her, a fuzzy feeling in her head like it had been stuffed with cotton. A languidness in her muscles that made them feel weighted and strange. A shaft of light from the hallway poured across the tile when he opened the front door. His large body briefly outlined by the pale gold, all dark clothes, broad chest and shoulders — and that mask over his face. So dark. All darkness.

  Run, her mind urged her. She should be running, but her body wasn’t responding except with stilted shivers.

  The rattling sound of a cart wheeling in made her lift her head. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes. Hadn’t realized that in her efforts to move, she’d only slid to the side.

  You’ve been drugged. Stay awake. A tiny, urgent voice in the white noise of her head.

  Stay awake, Lianna!

  With more effort than it had taken in her entire life, she forced her eyes open again and sat up to look. The thing looked like a janitor’s cart. A trash bag on one end, and a larger section by him with drawers for cleaning supplies. Without a word he pressed something and the whole set of drawers opened like a single piece — because they weren’t drawers, it was a door. Dread pooled in her stomach, far below the emptiness of her thoughts. There was an empty space
on the inside. An empty place meant for her.

  “Please?” Her voice came out slurred, her brain and body lethargic. There would be no more running, no more fighting — but somewhere deep down there was a spark of survival instinct, that tiny voice asking if she were going to die. Begging her to satisfy it with a comforting word.

  But she didn’t have an answer.

  “Time to leave, princess.” The man knelt down by her, lifting her into the space as if she weighed nothing. Folding her legs against her chest, he looked at her and she finally saw the fierce, tawny brown eyes behind the mask. There was no mercy in that gaze, only hate, and then they disappeared as he shut the door.

  Darkness surrounded her like a suffocating blanket.

  She tried to shift but her muscles wouldn’t respond at all as the cart started to move. Her wrists were pinpoints of pain in the dark, and she tried to hold on to them, to consciousness — but then the black behind her eyes swallowed her whole. Like some ancient sea monster, sending her down deep where no thoughts, no pain, no panic could reach her.

  Chapter Four

  David

  He’d done it. He had Lianna Mercier in the cell, and everything had gone exactly to plan.

  Well, not exactly to plan.

  Fucking her in the apartment hadn’t been a part of the plan, but as soon as he’d seen the blonde halo of her hair lit by the light from the television — everything had gone red. The cold rage had taken over him, and all he’d wanted to do was make her scream. To hurt her in his house.

  It had felt good to ruin the fake perfection of that fucking apartment. Her shattered wine glass on the floor, the coffee table askew. Hell, he’d fucked her so hard against the couch that it had moved across the floor, and he’d left it angled on the tile with the shredded scrap of her underwear and those pale pink pajama pants behind it.

  Listening to her beg had been better than all of it though.

  Spoiled little cunt, daddy’s little corrupt princess, screaming and crying before she’d come on his cock like the whore he already knew she was. It had been so much better than just drugging her and taking her out of there.

  His dick was getting hard again just thinking about everything he’d do to her before this was all over — but from now on he’d stick to the plan.

  No more surprises.

  He still needed to verify the building security cameras had kept his loop going, and then he had to revert them before some half-assed security guard noticed it. So much to do before the girl woke up and he got to move to the next phase of the plan.

  Ruin. Suffering. Destruction.

  David smiled as he turned up the audio for the cell. Harry had been wrong, completely and totally wrong. This was exactly what he should be doing. Revenge felt fucking amazing.

  Lianna

  Everything came back online slowly.

  First her mind, head pounding like she’d had too much to drink, and then her body lit up in sections. Pain pinged reminders across her skin, echoing confused memories of terror through her battered veins, forcing her out of the comforting daze of sleep.

  After a few minutes, Lianna knew she was awake, knew her eyes were open, but the room was pitch black. No difference whether they were open or closed. Blinking, she tried to lift her hands and heard metal clatter as cuffs dug into her already aching wrists.

  “Shit,” she hissed between her teeth as the twinge spiked and ebbed.

  Oh God.

  She had been taken. It wasn’t some horrible nightmare fueled by the stupid horror movie.

  Her heart started to race, beating too loud in her ears as the panic threatened to take over, but she pushed it down and tried to breathe, to evaluate her surroundings. Think, her mind urged through the haze. Survive.

  There was a hard chair under her, her arms run through slats in the back so she couldn’t sit up all the way, and something was holding her legs wide to the outsides of the chair. Not more cuffs, rope? No. It felt smoother than that, sharper on the edges. It didn’t matter.

  Worst of all she was completely naked. She could feel the absence of cloth over her breasts and the brush of cool air across her skin. She was naked, tied-up, and trapped with him. The memory of the man sent a chill down her spine, but there was nothing left to do but call out.

  You can’t break handcuffs, just get it over with.

  Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, Lianna raised her voice into the black, “Hello?”

  Instead of light, a huge television suddenly blinked to life in front of her. For a moment it only showed a blank screen behind the plastic shield that surrounded it — then a video started. It was her, in a black and white image from a high angle, sitting on the couch in the apartment. She watched as her mouth moved, but no sound could be heard. She watched as she set the wine down and started to mess with the remote. Then the dark figure of the man walked into the frame from the right, standing just behind her as she flipped through the channels.

  No, no, no... he’d recorded it?

  It was eerie the way he stood completely still while she leaned over the remote, fidgeting with it before she leaned back, only feet from him. Watching the movie, unaware of the real danger. When the figure on the screen suddenly grabbed her and yanked her over the back of the couch, she clenched her eyes tight.

  “STOP! I don’t want to watch this!” Shouting into the emptiness, she tried to forget the sensation of his hands on her skin, of the things he’d done. Even unable to see the video her mind was filling in the blanks, tracing the aches across her body like a transcript. Dropping her chin to her chest, she shook her head, her hair falling like a curtain against her cheeks as if she could shut off the movie inside her own brain. But her eyes snapped open again when the sound of her father’s voice bled through speakers into the room.

  Dad?

  Snippets of interviews from over the years started to play. Robert Mercier, always smiling and well dressed, dimples punching into his cheeks when he laughed. It flashed through clips of him at public events, recordings of him discussing business on what should have been private virtual stockholder calls, and too many others. Then they grew shorter.

  Quick, abbreviated snippets of his voice over, and over, and over.

  His smile, his laugh, and just as the videos started to speed up to a dizzying rate — they started to zoom in on her. Always sitting just to his left or right, in a variety of designer clothes, her dad’s voice running over the top of it. It should have been soothing to hear him, but the videos were all of her and too strange. Slowed down clips of her half-smiling during events, her staring down at her hands in her lap, her standing in elegant heels to clap. Just her, over and over, and it only made her panic worse. “STOP!”

  The last image of her clapping and smiling in a dress froze. Hands almost touching, she looked like she might have been praying.

  Finally, the television went black for a moment, and then a single scene played on the screen at normal speed. It was her father standing outside the Mercier building, speaking to a gathering of reporters. “My inspiration for what I do with Mercier Systems?” He chuckled, all charm and wit, blue eyes sparkling as he nodded at the microphones. “Well, I want a better world for my daughter. She’s my everything. Without her—” He lifted his hands. “I’d have nothing.”

  The television clicked off and bright lights instantly flared to life from either side of the television, effectively blinding her. “Dammit!” She flinched, closing her eyes tight as she heard a door open somewhere to her left. It shut again, the sound heavy and metal. Lianna tried to look, but the bright lights were impossible to see through.

  “Did you hear that, princess? You’re his everything.” The low voice was slowly moving behind her, and then a large hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed just enough to make her heart stumble over itself. “Tell me, how do you think he’s going to feel when he gets that first video?”

  “Go to hell,” she spat, and he yanked her head back, tilting her chi
n up so she could see the mask again.

  “You’re the one in hell, princess, you just don’t know it yet.”

  Fear squirmed in her belly and she tried to struggle, but only rewarded herself with pain as the cuffs tore at her skin and his grip tightened further around her throat. “What do you want from me?” she croaked through the strain.

  “What do I want? I want your father to suffer. I want to see him ruined like he’s ruined the lives of so many others.” He grabbed her chin and forced her head back further, making her back arch painfully as her arms pressed into the chair. “And you’re going to help me destroy him, princess.”

  “My name is Lianna,” she hissed.

  “Oh, but daddy dearest always calls you princess, doesn’t he?” It sent a shudder through her that he knew that fact. How long had he been watching them? Watching her?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I know everything, slut. Remember that. Now, you have a task to perform.” He let her go and she rolled her neck to ease the ache as tiny red dots sprang to life in the ceiling. One directly in front of her, two in the corners, and as she turned her head she saw they went around the room.

  The man stepped behind her again, leaning down to speak directly into her ear, “Go on, talk to him. Tell Daddy how much you want to come home. Beg.”

  She pressed her lips together, clenching her jaw tight, and he sighed.

  “Now,” he hissed, a large hand gripping the back of her neck.

  “No.” She pushed the word through gritted teeth, and he dug his fingers into her skin for a moment before he released her with a shove. His footsteps were heavy across the floor, still in boots, but she wasn’t playing into the kidnapping game. Uncle Mike had taught her better than that.