The Mindf*ck Series

Chapter 16

𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.
- 𝘝𝘰𝘭𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦

𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗔

I’m just stepping out of the bathroom, adjusting my towel, when Logan steps through the bedroom door, scaring the shit out of me.

“You gave me a heart attack,” I groan, gripping my chest. But then my lips turn up in a smile, despite his very serious expression.

“Come back for the circus outside?” I ask, adjusting the towel.

“Everyone is gone. There was a new message in fire this time. I’m sure everyone all over town has said something to someone else. Things get around fast in a small town.”

“Small towns everywhere have that nasty little habit,” I chirp, swallowing anything else I might want to say on the matter.

He continues staring at me, his serious expression growing foreboding.

“Are you okay?” I ask, getting worried.

“Yeah,” he says, stalking toward me.

I don’t have the chance to ask more, because he’s suddenly on me, his lips crushing mine in a painful kiss. There’s no finesse or tenderness the
way there usually is.

It’s hard, demanding, almost punishing, but I kiss him back, clinging to him. I’m not sure how he already got some free time, but I’m all for it.

“I love you,” I say against his lips, which earns me an even harder, just shy of painful kiss as he lifts me and drops me to the bed, coming down on top of me.

He doesn’t return the words, possibly because he’s too busy tearing his clothes off, frantic to have me. When his lips find mine again, it’s no gentler.

He shoves my legs apart with the same rough vigor, and then he thrusts in. I cry out in surprise, thankful that I happen to get wet easily around him.

That could have hurt otherwise.

And he thrusts in harder, and harder, and harder… It just goes on and on, his hips thrashing angrily to no rhythm.

“I love you,” I say against his ear when he breaks the kiss and drops his head beside mine.

Again he doesn’t return the sentiment, and he continues to fuck me wildly, violently, furiously. As good as it feels, a hollowness forms in my chest, a dull ache growing and expanding over me.

I cling to him harder as a tear falls, realization slowly sinking in. He grips my hips, arching me up, taking me like I’m his to own…his to break.

Another tear. And another. Not from any physical pain, because there’s only intense pleasure. It’s because you don’t have angry sex unless you’re angry, and Logan is furious.

And he’s using me.

One last time.

Punishing me.

Because he knows.

But he still doesn’t know the whole truth.