Breaker (Unmasked #3)

50. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Delilah

I ’m not sure what wakes me up—a creak in the floor, the wind rattling the window—but my eyes open, and I sit upright, heart beating wildly in my chest like angry bees. My gaze lands on him and I relax.

I relax.

The fire died hours ago, the only light in the room the bright moon’s glow pouring in through the open curtains, drenching the room in a gauzy white haze. Reaper’s mask glows, his eyes just a black hole sucking me into his vortex. He’s sitting in the chair with legs spread wide, arms hung loosely over the armrests, watching me. I feel his gaze slipping, dipping, moving over me, almost caustic with its intensity.

I’m not sure why he’s here, not talking. There’s a fleeting thought that maybe he’s come to deliver more bad news. That he’s going to tell me to get dressed and lead me downstairs to break my heart and mind all over again. But there’s something about the way he’s sitting—he looks almost defeated.

Or maybe it’s acceptance.

I take a breath. Acceptance. I know that feeling all too well. That unfolding of oneself, giving in to your most basic desires. Finally allowing yourself to have all the things you’ve denied.

Flinging the covers back, I crawl to the end of the bed, not caring about my nakedness. He’s already seen so much of me, exposed parts that lived inside me, my bare flesh is nothing compared to the wild things he’s ripped from my marrow.

When I reach the end of the bed, I kneel with my hands in my lap.

Waiting.

Waiting.

That’s what I’ve done since they’ve taken me. Waited for their next move. Waited for answers. Waited for Cora. Waited for them to touch me again. To take what they wanted so I could finally have want I craved.

Them.

Striker was right. It’s easier when someone takes, forces you into submission, rather than risking giving yourself to the wrong person. I’ve already done that—given my entire life to men who don’t deserve to be in the same space as me.

Dave. I gave him a year of my life, my devotion. He gave me lies and deceit. A broken heart.

Rune. I’ve given him my entire soul. He is the essence of me, of who I thought I wanted to be. I gave him that. The only thing that a daughter can give her father. Idolization, loyalty, never-ending devotion and complete and utter trust.

And he never deserved it.

I don’t know entirely if Reaper deserves me. If any of them do. But there’s a soul deep want that needs them to be deserving of this terrible tenderness growing in my chest. This painful ache that is so desperate for him to be everything he promised.

Mine. Hers.

Our revenge.

Reaper lifts one hand, turning his palm up and he crooks his finger, telling me to come to him. Just like he did in the club, sealing my fate.

My feet hit the cool wood, and I walk over, slowly, letting him see every part of my skin visible in the darkness. Light glints in his black eyes as I move closer, hungry gaze eating up the sight of my body. My breasts, how my nipple’s have grown tight, not just from the slight chill in the room but from his nearness. How I walk, hips swaying, legs feeling slightly loose from the many times Striker’s fucked me today. The new, confident way I stand before him after finally getting what I wanted.

It’s a heady feeling, realizing they desire me, crave my body and mind as much as I want them. That feral woman they created has been starved after being denied any pleasurable touch, and she’s greedy. She wants more.

She, I , want him.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, stepping between his spread thighs, until my legs hit the chair.

Black eyes rove over me again, one hand lifting from the armrest to skim over my outer thigh, fingers leaving fire in their wake. His head drops back to the chair, and he looks up at me. “Have I?”

I narrow my gaze, knowing he can see my irritation. It’s strange standing over him like this. Every interaction I’ve had with him, even straddling his lap as he fucked me, he’s been in complete control.

Maybe he still is, this false sense of being above him is really just Reaper allowing me to stand before him. Like in the club, when Striker told me the only reason I was on Reaper’s lap was because he put me there.

“Has my pretty Kitten missed her captor?” His voice drip with arrogance. With knowing . “Is that why you asked for me?”

It takes a second for his words to register. “You watched us?” I ask, my skin flushed with heat as I step away, my body liking the thought of him watching us today, but my mind confused on whether it feels like an invasion. But I did want him there, watching, seeing me getting fucked by Striker and Viper. His hands on me, being a part of my most vulnerable moment.

He says nothing for a heartbeat, then, his voice a raspy whisper, “I’m always watching, Kitten.”

My heart flutters, a million butterflies beating their wings against my heart.

Always watching. Always near.

And he’s here, right now.

Using his boot, he taps the inside of my ankle. “Open for me.”

Reaper commands. Everyone follows. If I want this, want him , I’ll follow his lead.

I spread my legs until my bare feet hit his boots.

Striker has fucked me so many times today, the last time not that long ago, I can still feel the remnants of his cum sticking between my thighs. Reaper’s gaze drops and I wonder if he sees them glistening with Striker’s release. The thought beats a heated path to my lower belly. My body is sore, but I still hunger for more.

“Let me see,” he says.

My brows knit, confused. Then I realize what he wants. Slowly I trial my fingers over my thigh, then drag them up between my legs, stopping at my pussy, liking how his eyes grow even hungrier at my teasing. How his hands grip the armrest like he’s stopping himself from reaching for me. Two fingers slip between my folds, and I dip them into me, moving them in and out, coating them. I hold them out for him to see, slick and wet.

“Taste.”

I suck my fingers into my mouth, tasting the musk and salt of us together.

“Do you like the way he tastes?”

“Yes,” I breathe, licking my fingers clean, watching his eyes, how the moon catches the darkness, creating a flickering wickedness to flare each time they move. “I like the way you all taste.”

He lets out a strange sound, almost like a strangled burst of air, escaping him unchecked as his gaze drags from my lips to my eyes.

“Turn around and walk to the end of the bed,” Reaper says, voice low.

I hesitate, but instead of asking why, I do as instructed.

“Hands on the railing.”

Another slight hesitation, but I wrap my fingers around the cool metal rail and wait. My heart hammers, unsure what he wants me to do. Or what he plans to do with me.

I feel him move up behind me. My skin pricks with awareness. Heat radiates from him, seeping into my back as he steps closer.

“You took their cocks so well, Kitten.” Fingers trail along my spine, then my hair’s brushed over my shoulder so tenderly goose bumps form. Reaper runs his fingertips up the lines of my back to my neck. When he grips my hair at the nape, shoving me down until my chest hits the metal rail, I let out a sharp gasp, my pussy throbbing. His free hand trails down my back again, running over my ass cheek. “You rode Striker’s face so hard, just like our perfect little slut.”

My face grows warm. The thought he sat somewhere watching feels absolutely sinful.

Reaper strokes my ass cheek with his free hand, practically petting me. A light tap to my rear makes me jolt. Another, slightly harder one creates a warm tingle between my thighs.

“And you still wanted more, didn’t you?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“And then you took them both, fucking them so beautifully. One cock in your perfect ass, one in this tight pussy.” His fingers skims along my entrance and I rock back into his touch, but he denies me, removing his hand before I can get any friction.

His palm lands down again on my ass cheek, slightly harder this time. He rubs the sting away then does it again. “Such a dirty girl, wanting two cocks at once. And you still wanted my cock didn’t you?”

My eyes squeeze closed, hands gripping the rail harder. “Yes,” I rasp.

“Fucking your throat?” he asks

The admission slips from me. “Yes.”

A rumbling sound in his chest tells me he likes that answer. When his palm lands again, a dark tangled desire blooms between my thighs. I don’t know how my body is still capable of this level of arousal. I feel so used, yet, still so starved. Reaper’s dark touch is driving that same need I had earlier even higher. In some remote part of my mind, I fear maybe they fucked with my head too much that first week and I’m broken, but it shatters when another harder spank lands on my ass.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Reaper rasps, his hand tightening in my hair. His hips jut forward, grinding his hard length into me. “Taking orders. Training. Taking what you want. Riding their cocks so hard, driving them crazy until they filled you up.”

Another slap to my ass has me groaning.

Fingers dip into the dimples on my lower back, then glide up my spine making my nipples tighten even more. The need to have his hands on me, claiming every inch of skin has me squirming.

“What a good little Kitten, taking their cum so sweetly. I loved watching you whimper and moan and fuck them. You’re such a beautiful girl.”

His praise blooms in my chest like a new flower bursting open with the sunlight.

“Do you think you deserve more?” he asks. “You’re already so full of cum, your pussy is weeping with it.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”

My head snaps back, breath bursting from my lungs. Slickness heats between my thighs from his rough touch.

“Greedy, greedy, girl,” Reaper grates, his grip in my hair tightening. “If you want my cock, you’re going to have make those begs convincing.”

I bite my lip, the pull of him creating this bone searing need to please him, yet the stubborn, defiant woman who is always in control whispers not to give him what he wants.

Because what if he takes too much? What if I give too many pieces to Reaper and I lose myself? I can already feel the fragments that Striker has imbedded inside my heart. I trust Striker I realize. Completely. They’ve all shown me parts of myself while giving me glimpse of who they are, but Striker’s the one who’s stayed with me. Kissed me, shown me his trust in me by removing his mask and letting me see him.

Not just his face, but his heart.

I know next to nothing about him, where he came from, what he endured in his life, but I know his heart is good. I feel it. I see it in his promises, in the tender way he caresses me. How he so openly accepts every part of not just his brother’s but himself and Cora.

Breaker’s let me see him. He’s made me promises, claimed me ,and left to keep my heart safe after she was ripped away.

Viper’s given me pieces of himself, but still holds me at a distance. Like maybe he’s too scared to let me see him.

Reaper takes. I feel like I’ve already handed over so much of myself yet he’s asking for more, giving me so little in return.

“Kitten,” he growls, masked mouth brushing along the side of my neck, harsh with unspoken desires. “Tell me what you want.”

Pulling in a deep breath, I ease back into him, relenting. Accepting. “I want you.”

A heart beat passes.

Another.

This thing between us feels wild. Like gnashing teeth and harsh bites. Feral with its intensity. Primal in its craving.

Then the grip in my hair loosens and his hand snakes around my throat. I cry out in shock as he drags me back, pressing me to his solid chest.

Hot breaths on my ear. “Say it again.”

There’s an edge of something close to desperation in his tone, something possessive and twisted that sends a skittering fear through me. It lands low in my belly, pooling with desire, tangling with need.

My heart pounds, that feral thing inside me craving more. “I want you. All of you.”

Gripping my arm, he turns me to face him, keeping his large hand at my throat. His dark eyes search my face, dropping to my mouth, moving over my cheek to my brows and then to my eyes.

I think he likes what he sees by the way the moonlight glimmers in the darkness.

“Do you trust me, Kitten?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

A shiver moves down my back. His brothers trust him implicitly. Cora trusts him. I trust him to follow through as best he can. My heart though? I have a feeling he’s capable of wrecking it.

“I trust you with my body,” I say.

Reaper’s hand drops. The way he stiffens makes me think I found another way to penetrate his steely facade. He wants me to trust him. Not just with my body but with all of me.

He draws in a breath. His touch feathers down my arm. That skull face smirks and screams.

“You say want me, but I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” he says. “I’m made from something evil. Born with the taste of death on my tongue.”

The fingers skimming my arm move to slip over my collarbone, the gentle caress so at odds with his words. My pulse threatens to explode when he moves closer, weaving both hands into my hair, yanking my head back. My body arches into him, feeling heat and hardness press into my belly. Reaper brushes his masked lips over my exposed throat.

His breath heats my skin. “You still want me, Kitten? Even though I’m nothing but death and destruction?”

Liar. He’s more.

My palms land flat on his chest. He stiffens, but relaxes as I ease them lower, feeling the hardness of his body, dipping my fingers into the curves of muscles, letting them skim his nipple under his shirt.

I drop my hands to my sides. This craving in me is so raw, so primitive, that in this moment, I don’t care if he ruins me.

“Yes,” I breathe.

Easing his grip in my hair, he stands to his full height, looming over me.

I should be scared of him.

I should be a lot of things.

“I’ll be gentle with you this time,” he says, voice dripping with darkness.

This time.

“Tonight, you will submit. Everything.”

My heart races.

“Go lie down on your back.”

A throb pulses in my clit. I do as asked, stepping away from him and lying on the bed, flat on my back, heart thundering, stomach heated yet dipping with nerves when he walks toward me.

I’ve been with Striker alone, but I wasn’t nervous. I felt that gentleness in him that first night. He’s so in tune with me, knowing when I need a soft touch, knowing when I need that feral thirst quenched.

Reaper has feed me small bits of his gentle side, but I know it’s there. I don’t know which man I’m going to get now. The one who holds me down forcing me to admit what I want or the man who craves me to the point he hates me for it.

I know how he feels.

This needy ache for him leaves me resentful.

“Grip the headboard,” he says, leaning over to grab something. When he pulls the rope Striker brought in this morning from under the pillow my face heats. He really was watching. “I’m going to bind you to the bed, and spread you open for me. Then I’m going to blindfold you.”

My heart rate kicks up higher as I whisper, “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

“No. I mean yes, do it.”

Reaper wraps the rope around one wrist. I look up angling my head to watch as he guides it through the railing and then wraps it round my other wrist, effectively tying my hands to the railing. The hard tug on the rope as he tests the restraints confirms I’m not getting free, making my stomach drop.

“Spread your legs.”

My heart thrashes, a wild thing in my chest. I lick my lips, taking a deep breath, but do as he asks.

“Good girl,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you, Kitten.”

The truth in his words skim over me. “I know.”

When he walks back to the chair and picks up a set of black leather cuffs that had been hidden behind him, my heart leaps into my throat.

He came prepared. Ready for this. Forcing me to admit it out loud. Knowing I wanted him.

Without a word, he moves to the end of the bed and straps one cuff on my ankle then loops the chain around a pole and clips it to itself. The leather is cold, his hands warm as he slides one gently over my ankle to make sure it’s secure. He then tests the strength of the chains, tugging hard, metal rattling. Reaper grips my other ankle and drags my legs open, spreading them so far apart I’m completely exposed to him.

Exposed and vulnerable. He wanted my trust. This is it. Me splayed open, at his mercy. My body ready for him to use as he pleases. And I’m giving him that power, trusting him not to abuse it. Maybe I’ve trusted him all along.

Once I’m bound to the bed, he leans on the metal railing of the footboard, hands gripping tightly, eyes eating up the sight of me. “Look at how beautiful you are. Spread open for me. Ready for my cock. Pussy so wet, I can see it dripping from here.”

Another, deeper warmth spreads through my chest at the way he’s so openly praising, looking hungrily yet appreciatively at my body, my face. Me.

Reaper stalks toward me, watching how my body stiffens. “Why are you scared, Kitten?”

“I’m not,” I lie.

He makes a tsking sound. “You’re a terrible liar, sweet girl. We need to work on that.”

Sweet girl.

I think I like that. I think I want to be his sweet girl.

From the table next to me, Reaper picks up the blindfold. I meet his eyes in the dark. He’s just a solid dark mass, glimmering black diamonds for eyes.

He’s been a wild fling, my captor, my lover.

Mine.

“Are you ready for me, Delilah?”

My name.

Me.

I release a breath, letting all that caged up resentment toward him, all that fear and longing, go. “Yes. I’m ready.”

With out another word, he places the fabric over my eyes and ties it behind my head, throwing me into utter darkness.