I Know What Love Is (16 page)

I needed food, too. Surprisingly, I was actually hungry, even though I'd eaten dinner that evening. Usually, I had zero appetite and skipped meals without realizing that I had. I pressed a fist into my belly as it rumbled. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his body still as perfect and toned as it had been two years ago. I winced in pain as I adjusted my ankle. I had it propped up on an extra pillow, but the swelling had only gotten worse.

There was a rotary phone on the bedside table beside him, but I hadn't bothered to try to make a call. I didn't want to be saved. I knew if I turned on the TV, the news would probably be blaring the story of a man who was killed in a home invasion, his fiancé  abducted. I had made sure that Trace would be discovered—I'd left the front door open when Elliot pulled me out, triggering the home alarm. The police would have been there within the hour. They would have found all the evidence—the blood, the fingerprints, the gun at the bottom of the pool, my panties tossed in the middle of the lawn. They would watch the footage from the security camera that filmed the front of the house. They would see me being dragged off by a man all in black.

I could never be found.

I could disappear.

Just like that, Joan Vasquez could be no more.

I was going to leave Elliot as soon as I could, but I wasn't going back home. I could never show my face there again, now that they knew everything. They knew I was damaged goods. The farce was over. I wanted to bury my old identity and all the shit she'd been through. I could start a new life, as a new person. A new person who'd never had anything bad happen to her. A new person who was a complete mystery to anyone she ever met. I didn't want to face the looks of pity from my mother and the way my father would avoid my eyes. I didn't want to see the looks on my brother's faces when they heard what had happened to me, the looks of pain and disgust.

I'd spared them from it for a long time.

Now, they would have to deal with it.

Elliot stirred beside me, rolling his head toward mine.

“Joan,” he whispered. “You're here.”

“
Of course I'm here, asshole.” I lifted my wrist, the metal that connected us clinking in response.

“
I think I like it when you're feisty,” he said. He lifted his hand and the cold metal touched my skin and sent a shiver through me. He ran his finger down the hollow of my stomach. “You're too skinny.” He dipped his fingertip into my bellybutton. “When we get back to Austin, I'm going to make you eat.” I bit my lip as he continued stroking me. I didn't dare move, but I wanted to shove his hand away. I didn't like how my body was reacting to his touch.  “Do you like when I feed you?” he whispered, but I ignored him, keeping my eyes to the ceiling even as goosebumps rose on my skin and my nipples pebbled at his touch. He brushed his knuckles over my lower abdomen. “I'm going to marry you.” He paused, letting the words sink in, his fingers continuing their dance across my skin. “Then you're going to have my baby. You'll love our kid and you'll learn to love me, too.” He sucked in a rough breath, rolling over onto his side.

“
Don't!” I hissed. “You'll start bleeding again.”

“
Shhh,” he breathed, pressing his lips to the valley of my breasts as he dipped his fingers between my legs. He strummed my clit, his tongue working the soft skin stretched over my breastbone. “Joan, I'm sorry,” he breathed into me. “But I wouldn't take it back, even if I could. Because now I have you.”

“
You don't have me,” I moaned, the pleasure building low in my belly. I arched my back into his mouth, and he dragged his tongue across the swell of my breast to my nipple. He ran his rough tongue over the sensitive bud, torturously slow. “You think you love me, but you don't,” I gritted out, my teeth clenched.

“
I do,” he whispered, then sucked me into his hot mouth. As his mouth worked my breast, he slid a finger inside of me. A low cry escaped my lips, and I rolled my hips to meet the thrust of his finger. “My body knows yours,” he replied, and then showed me that his words were true. He slid his finger in and out of me slowly, every inch of me reacting to every inch of him. Then he pulled out, releasing me. “Sit on my face,” he demanded, rolling onto his back.

“
I can't,” I hissed, pissed at him for making me want him.

“
I want to taste you,” he said, his eyes, like two deep pools, on me. “I want to show you.” His tone sent a pang of longing through me. I wanted him to lick me and taste me. I wanted the distraction he offered. So I sat up, lifting my leg gingerly, careful to not move my ankle. I hoisted myself up on one knee, sliding the injured leg over his chest. It was ridiculous almost, like we were two geriatrics trying to get it on in a nursing home. I giggled, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it. Then we were both laughing softly as we moved at a glacial pace, adjusting our injured selves against each other, until I was positioned over him, his nose nudging my clit. He blew a cool breath against me and I shivered. When he slid his tongue deep into me, feasting like he was dying of hunger, I curled my fingers around the cheap wooden headboard and held on. My body was stiff and tight, my mouth open and panting as he worked his evil tongue against me.

Our connected hands intertwined on my thigh, the chain of the cuffs brushing against my skin. He showed me how much he loved me with every lick and suck, every moan. A man couldn't lick a pussy like that without having some feelings for the woman attached to it. He worshipped me, leaving me dripping and ready for release. When he nipped at my thigh I knew he wanted to fuck me. I glanced back over my shoulder, and sure enough, his cock was hard. How he had enough blood left in him to get an erection, I didn't know.

He rolled us over slowly, giving me time to adjust my leg. “On your stomach,” he rasped, out of breath. I didn't argue, just moved myself the way he wanted me. My body was crying out for him. It hurt, too, but I was used to the pain. He crawled over me, hiking my knee up as he slid between my legs. He was inside of me a second later, his hard cock sliding in to my wetness with no resistance. I sighed deeply as my body melded around his, because it felt so damn perfect. He jerked his hips, then hissed out a breath and I knew the movement had caused him pain.

Good.

Every thrust caused me pleasure and him pain, but he didn't stop. He fisted his hand in my hair as hips pumped against my ass, all of his thick length embedded in me. We moved together, slow but desperate, just like that Saturday morning so long ago.

“
Your body was made for me,” he whispered. “It's mine.” He thrust deep, letting out a pained, ragged cry. “It's all mine,” he gritted out. I could hear the strain in his voice. I wondered how much he hurt. I hoped it was a lot. I hope it felt like I was stabbing him all over again with each thrust. The thought of how much I was hurting him sent a thrill of arousal though me.

“
I fucked him,” I said, then grunted hard when he bucked against me. He cried out again, and another thrill went through me.

“
How
?
” he hissed. “How could you let him touch you?” He dropped his head to run his teeth across my shoulder and I bowed my back, letting my body press against his chest. The feel of his skin against mine was electric. All the nerve endings in my body reacted, the pleasure sizzling through me. “How could you let him touch you when I can give you everything?” With a sharp intake of breath, he reared his hips back, pulling out of me. I gasped, not expecting it. My body clenched, wanting him back. Then he repositioned himself against my ass. My eyes widened and I squirmed against him. “Don't fight me,” he whispered.

“
It's going to hurt,” I grit out. “Both of us.”

“
It'll hurt more if you fight,” he murmured, his lips grazing my shoulder. “Did you let him touch you here?” he murmured, sliding the thick head of his cock between my cheeks.

“
Yes,” I admitted, because I wanted to hurt him.

“
Did you like it when he did it?” His voice was low and dangerous and I bit my lip, remembering how merciless he could be.

“
No,” I whispered and I felt his fingers gripping into my ass, his thumb dipping into my tightness.

“
You like it when I do it,” he growled out, and I opened my mouth to protest, but then closed it again. Maybe I deserved the pain. Maybe I deserved everything that had happened to me. A man was dead because of me. Other girls may have been hurt because of me.

Elliot deserved the pain, too.

Ain't we a pair
. His words echoed in my ears.

“
Go slow,” I breathed, dropping flat to the mattress, my cheek against the rough striped sheet. He placed his hand over mine, the handcuffs clinking metallic close to my ear. I heard him spit, lubricating me as he pushed against me. I'd let Trace have anal sex with me once, out of spite. I didn't want Elliot to be the only one who'd touched me there. I'd suffered through it, although Trace had been gentle. Too gentle. Elliot obliged me and went slow, but he wasn't gentle. There wasn't a gentle bone in his body.

The head of him pushed deeper and deeper and I lay there and took it, my fingers clenching the sheet. He gripped my hand as he slowly rolled and swerved his hips against my ass, burying himself in me. I could hear his breathing labor as his lust got ahold of him. I closed my eyes, focusing on the friction between us. I felt full to the brim, but I forced myself to breathe and relax into him. He moaned, his lips close to my ear, as I let my muscles loosen, and he slid deeper inside of me. He wrapped his free hand around my throat, bending me back against him.

I felt my skin stretch tight over my stomach and my breasts jutted out as my spine arched. My nerves tingled and a shiver went through me. I liked the feel of his big hand around his throat, although I knew I shouldn't. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care. Everything was wrong about me and him, but I couldn't deny the way he was making me feel. The pain had ebbed away, and all of my focus was on the way his big cock thrust in and out of me, filling and stretching me. I was completely under his control.

He drew his other hand up to cup my breast and I hissed out moan, curling my fingers around his wrist, the hard metal still binding us together. He kneaded me and pinched my nipple as his thrusts grew more insistent. I zeroed in on the way he toyed with me, his fingers doing magical things to my nipple. I dropped my head back onto his shoulder, my mouth open at the sheer pleasure of it all.

He was a murderer and a rapist. He was crazy and unstable and wanted to possess me, body and soul, but when he made love to me, I couldn't stop myself from wanting it. He'd taken everything from me and I was messed up enough to keep giving him more.

I was drowning in him.

When he dropped our hands to my clit, I ground against him, working myself into a lust-blind frenzy. His deft fingers knew just how to touch me. He remembered how to get me off, and I didn't fight it. In the dark motel room, so far from home, I moved with him, pumping my hips into his as he fucked me.

“
Don't fight me, Joan,” he rasped, his fingers flexing around my throat. “You're
mine.
” I swallowed hard, the words finally sinking in. They repeated in my mind as he dug his knees into the mattress and plunged into me, harder and harder. A cry was forced from my throat as the pain and the pleasure mingled low in my belly. His thumb strummed my clit as his middle finger slipped between my folds, and I fell into an abyss of climax. My eyesight blacked out as I came. The intensity tightened my muscles and locked my jaw and I screamed as my inner muscles spasmed and rippled around his girth. Feeling how big he was inside of me brought on another wave of torturous pleasure. It hit me out of nowhere and my eyes jolted open, although my vision was blurry. He'd fucked me too good. I officially lost all control.

“
Elliot!” I heard myself moan, and he bucked and swerved, his own climax within reach. My insides hummed with the force of my double orgasm, and finally, he came with a pained moan. My body was so sensitive, I could feel him spilling and spurting inside of me, and I arched into him, wanting it all. His fingers continued to work against me as he jerked inside of me until we collapsed together, the heat between us our bodies seeping under my skin, into my bones.

Something shimmered between us, an electricity that was impossible to deny. I shivered beneath him, despite his warmth. He pressed his face to my back, his breathing sharp and heavy. He pulled out of me and I moaned at the release. My ass throbbed, my pussy throbbed, my whole damn body throbbed, but all of my anger and shame and fear had been fucked right out of me. Elliot was all that remained.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“
You're mine,” he repeated, as he shuddered against me. “Say it.”

“
I'm yours,” I breathed, knowing it was true as soon as the words left my mouth. I was Elliot's, whether I wanted to be or not. He had forced himself into my brain, my
molecules
, and had changed me irrevocably. The girl that I had been before he'd come into my life was officially dead.

“
Forever and ever,” he whispered.

“
Forever and ever,” I repeated, drawing his hand out from beneath us. I slipped my fingers between his calloused ones, the handcuffs reminding me that I was his prisoner as much as he was mine.