DON'T CHEAT ON ME!

CHAPTER 26: Insanity

Jordan's POV:

I watched her, my gaze never leaving her trembling form. She looked so fragile, so breakable. The fear in her eyes was a reward I could savor, even as she tried to block it out.

“You can scream all you want, Patricia”

I whispered, my voice low and venomous.

“No one will hear you. No one will save you.”

Her lips trembled as she swallowed hard, her body stiffening under my words. I could see her struggling, trying to hold on to whatever bit of strength she had left, but it was no use. She was mine now, every part of her.

I leaned closer, dragging my tongue along the edge of her ear, savoring the shiver that ran through her. The taste of her fear was intoxicating. My hand moved to her face, and I peeled the tape off her lips slowly, deliberately. She winced, her eyes filled with desperation, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to save her. I was here to break her.

Her voice was ragged, barely a whisper.

“Jordan... my wrists… my ankles... they hurt. Please, just untie me. I swear, I won’t run. I’ll do whatever you want.”

She thinks I’ll listen? How naive. I let her think she had a chance, if only for a moment. I let my hand hover over the knots of the ropes, giving her hope, just for a second. But I was never going to untie her. Not when she still thought she could bargain with me.

“Sorry, but I can’t, Patricia.”

I murmured, my lips curling into a smile, cold and cruel. “I can’t trust you. Not after what you did.”

Her face twisted with confusion, and I reveled in it. She didn’t understand. She never would.

“What I did?” she stammered, her voice thick with tears.

“Jordan, I don’t understand—”

“Don’t lie to me!”

I snapped, my voice a lash that cracked through the silence.
I saw her flinch, her body shrinking into the bed, but I didn’t care. I’d broken her long before this moment.

I immediately softened my tone, like I always did, slipping into the mask of a patient lover.

“You betrayed me, Patricia. You chose him over me.”

I pressed my lips to her neck, savoring the warmth of her skin as I sucked hard, marking her, reminding her that she was mine. I could feel her squirm beneath me, the way her body fought against the ropes, but I tightened my grip, forcing her to stay.

“Jordan, stop—please!” she begged.

I let out a small, dark laugh.

“Shh..”

I cooed, my voice slipping into something darker.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

Her cries were music to my ears, but I didn’t let her pull away. I traced my fingers down her arm, tightening my grip until I felt her gasp, the pain pulsing through her like electricity.

“You think Dave loved you?”

I mocked, my laughter cutting through her like a knife.

“You think he was better than me?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her silence was its own confession.

I could feel the hatred swirling in my chest, the jealousy burning through my veins as I continued to mark her, touch her, break her.

“He wasn’t. He couldn’t have been. And now… now you’ll know that for sure.”

Her body convulsed against the restraints, but I held her firm. I loved the struggle, the way she fought against the inevitable.

“That’s it, Patricia!”

I whispered, my voice thick with satisfaction.

“You’re mine again. Completely mine.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and I could see her trying to escape, to retreat somewhere inside herself. But I wouldn’t let her. I yanked her face back toward mine, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were filled with fear, and I let myself bask in it.

“You’ll see..”

I murmured, my voice low and intimate, as if I were confiding in her.

“By the time I’m done, you’ll forget all about him. You’ll only remember me.”

The venom in my words poured out with an intimacy she wouldn’t understand. She would, though—soon.

Every touch, every whispered word was a thread in the web I was weaving around her. She didn’t know it yet, but she would. She would learn to crave the suffocating darkness of my control.

"Please, Jordan, stop! I can't take it anymore."

Her voice cracks, and it's music to my ears—fragile, desperate. A final plea. She doesn’t know that it’s already too late. The words are futile, like trying to stop the tide with your bare hands. She doesn’t get it. She’s already mine.

I move closer, my foot quiet on the floor, each step a slow march toward her unraveling. Her body trembles, eyes wide, searching for any escape that’s long gone. She doesn't even know what she’s really afraid of. The ropes I tied her with are soft, gentle even. Comfort wrapped in control. But she doesn’t see it that way yet.

"Stop?"

I repeat, my voice calm, almost soothing.

"Patricia, don’t you understand? I’m not stopping. I’m starting."

Her eyes flit to my hands, which move with deliberate slowness to the buttons of my shirt. Each button undone is like peeling away a layer of my restraint, exposing what’s underneath—raw, unfiltered.

She’s shaking, I can feel it in the air between us. Her fear is thick now, suffocating, but I’m not bothered. I’ve tasted fear before. It doesn’t bother me, it feeds me.

I can hear her breath, shallow and panicked, as I slide the shirt off, letting it pool at my feet.

"Do you think I’m sick?"

I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"I’m not. I’m just the truth you’ve been running from."

Her lips part, a wordless protest, but I don’t let her speak. She doesn’t have the right to interrupt this moment. This moment is mine, and she will learn to accept it. The moment she stepped into my world, she signed her name in invisible ink on the contract. Her resistance only adds to the thrill.

I reach down and unbuckle my belt, the sound of leather against metal sharp in the silence. Her breath hitches, and I know she’s waiting for the worst. She thinks I’m about to hurt her, but she doesn’t understand—pain isn’t what I want from her. Pain is nothing compared to what I’m about to offer her.

"You said I’m a monster right?"

I murmur, stepping closer, closing the distance between us.

"But I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever find."

I lean in, my lips grazing her ear. Her breath catches, her body stiffening as if bracing for something. She’s already bracing. She already knows this will hurt—her pride, her ego, her innocence. She doesn’t know that the real pain won’t come from me. It’ll come from realizing how deeply she craved this.

I pull back, standing tall in front of her, letting her see me—truly see me, stripped of all pretense.

The ropes hold her, but they don’t restrain her heart. Not yet. Not until I’m done. And when I’m done, she’ll crave this, crave me, the way a starving person craves food.
She just doesn’t know it yet.

But she will. I’ll make sure of it.