Chapter 6 Ravaged

MAKROS’S POV I flipped her over effortlessly, her body easily bent beneath my hands, yet her eyes burned with defiance. Good. I thrived on her resistance. “Makros, please don't,” she said in earnest plea. But, I grabbed a fistful of her wild red hair, yanking her head back enough for my lips to graze her ear. My breath came in hot, and deliberate. “Shh. Shh. You don’t get to beg me, Leila. You get to endure.” A shiver ran through her, not in anticipation of pleasure, but in pure and unbridled fear. She didn’t want this. She most certainly didn’t crave for it. But I was more than willing to give it to her. Who cared what she wanted? I owned her. I ruled over her body, her mind and her choices. Keeping my grip tighter on her hair, I brought down my palm hard against her perfect, round ass. A sharp cry escaped her lips as her skin flushed red from the impact. She arched against me, her body betraying the pleasure hiding within the pain. “Oh, yeah,” I growled, grabbing her soft ass, kneading it, reveling in the way she twitched beneath my touch. The thin scrap of underwear covering her pussy–my treasure, was an insult. I grabbed her panties and tore them away like they were never meant to exist. Another strike landed on her other butt cheek. Her gasp was swallowed whole by the mattress when I pressed her face down. She whimpered, wiggling beneath me, trying to free herself from the restraints of my hold. She could struggle all she wanted but it was all a waste of effort. She ought to know better that she wasn’t going anywhere. “Behave yourself, Sunshine,” I murmured darkly, my voice filled with possession. My hand wrapped around her throat, firm and in a chokehold, pinning her down in place as my lips brushed over the curve of her ass. I kissed the bruised skin, my tongue tracing the heat I’d left behind. “Mhm… what a delicious little ass,” I muttered against her flesh. I could feel her trembling, her body betraying her need even before she did. But she wasn’t ready for me yet. Not even by a fraction. I needed her soaked up, pussy dripping, and desperate. I wanted to take her to that point where even though her mind resisted, her hormones wouldn't be able to willfully withstand the pleasure I'd feed them. Oh, Makros, you're genuinely the king of mind games. I trailed my fingers down between her thighs, parting them despite her instinctive futile attempt to squeeze them shut. “Not so fast, hold still,” I chided, spreading her wide. She was dry. I smirked. Not for long. Lowering my head, I licked a slow, deliberate swipe up her slit, teasing, coaxing, until I felt the first quiver of wetness greet my tongue. “That’s it,” I whispered, my middle and ring fingers slipping inside her, working her open. Her pussy made wet, gurgling sounds as I continued to finger fuck and lick her. A strangled moan escaped her lips. She trembled, but I could feel her body surrendering to my touch. When I finally lifted my head and pulled out my fingers, they were glistening with her arousal. I locked eyes with her and let my lips stretch into a satisfied smile. Hers were parted, her breath unsteady, as if she were still trying to catch up with the storm I had unleashed inside of her. The defiance that once burned in her gaze was gone, replaced by acceptance. No more struggle. No more resistance. I smirked, dragging my tongue over my fingers, savoring her taste. “Gosh, you taste so sweet.” But we weren’t done. Not even close. This was merely the beginning. A mere foreplay. Reaching for my belt, I pulled it free with a sharp pull, the leather hissing through the loops. She tensed, her body anticipating, her mind wondering what was to come. I leaned in, my breath hot over her ear. “Your hands, wifey.” “Crazy son of a bitch!” She cussed with a fire of desire, evident in her cute eyes. But with my stern look, She obeyed, wrists pressing together at the small of her back. Good girl. Finally someone was learning to be obedient even with her being hot tempered. I wrapped the black belt around her wrists, tugging the strap into the buckle, tightening it until she was firmly bound with no hopes of getting free. Restraint was top five on my list of sexual fantasies. I loved the helplessness. Her body trembled beneath me, her thighs quivering as I unzipped my jeans, freeing myself. My cock throbbed, heavy with need and desire. I pressed it against her slick heat, tapping her clit, teasing, watching her bite her lip as a choked whimper escaped. “Look at you,” I murmured, dragging my tip through her folds. “So desperate. So wet for me.” And then I took her. Hard. In one swift thrust, I went all the way in. Her back arched, her bound hands straining against the belt. A strangled moan tore from her throat as her legs kicked behind me, her heels digging into my ass. She was so tight, and the way she clenched around me nearly made me cum right then and there. I pulled out, savoring the drag, then drove into her again–deeper, harder. She wheezed, her body jolting forward. The bed shook beneath us. She pounded her head against the mattress, as if grounding herself, as if trying to fight against the pleasure overwhelming her. “Oh fuck, no more, please!” she whimpered, her voice breathless, wrecked. Her head turned over to the side, eyes hazy and unfocused. I bet she was seeing stars. I chuckled darkly, brushing my lips over the nape of her neck. “No more?” I taunted, rolling my hips, grinding deep. “Oh, wifey… we’re just getting started.” She writhed beneath me, wrists bound tight, body trembling like she still believed she had control. Foolish. That power belonged to me now. Her back arched, a silent plea, her soft gasp betraying her. My palm claimed her breast—rough, unrelenting and I squeezed hard enough to remind her she wasn’t allowed to forget whose hands owned her. Her nipple hardened instantly under my touch. I pinched, twisted, and dragged, my breath hot against her neck. “Too much?” I whispered, mock-gentle, my voice low and poisonous. “You say stop, but your body begs for ruin.” She whimpered, legs tensing, hips lifting for more. I chuckled darkly. “Thought so.” Without warning, my hand came down—hard. The slap cracked through the room. Once. Twice. Three times. Her body jolted, ass glowing red beneath the weight of my palm. She gasped, sharp, ragged, breath stuttering. Her moan hitched mid-air when I thrust into her. Deep. Hard. Like punishment. Like possession. “That’s it,” I growled, my fingers digging into her hips. “Cling to me like that. Like I’m the only thing keeping you alive.” Her moans turned needy, broken, her body melting around mine. I leaned in, voice of pure sin. “Say it, Leila. Say you love being owned.” She shuddered. “Makros…” It was barely a whisper, soaked in surrender. “I hate you…” I grinned, teeth grazing her throat. “Then why do you come for me like I’m the only man you’ll ever need?” She didn’t answer, she couldn’t. Her body already had. I leaned over her, pressing my lips to the shell of her ear. “You feel that, wifey?” I whispered darkly, nipping at her earlobe. “The way your body begs for it, the way you squeeze me every time I take you?” Without warning, my palm cracked down against her ass again but this time, sharper. Not enough. The sound echoed, a brutal rhythm to her cries. Her skin flushed red beneath each strike, blooming like war paint across pale silk. She jolted, her body clenching tighter around me with every punishing thrust. Deeper. Harder. Mine. Her breath turned ragged, moans tangled with gasps as my hand met skin again and again. She was falling apart, unraveling for me, because of me. I dragged my teeth along her skin, slow and deliberate. “Tell me again how you planned to kill me. Or are you too busy coming undone on the man who owns you now?” She shuddered, nails clawing into her bound hands, back arching with every punishing snap of my palm. Her body jerked like a livewire, breath catching on a gasp that spilled out as a moan—raw, broken, and needy. She was on the edge, unraveling. I could feel it in the way her thighs quivered, her breath hitched in ragged pants, her head falling forward like she was trying to hold herself together. But she couldn’t. Not under me. Not when she was mine. Her hands fought the restraints, not to escape but to hold on. She was slipping, surrendering to the chaos I lit inside her. Exactly how I wanted her. I gripped her hips and slammed into her harder, relentless, brutal, a man chasing the high of absolute ownership. Her strangled cry shattered in the air as her body gave in, trembling around me, wracked with pleasure that bordered on pain. She shattered and I followed, burying myself deep with a savage growl as the rush tore through me, raw and consuming. We stayed like that, tangled in sweat and sin, her body twitching from aftershocks while I brushed my fingers down her spine, marking every inch of her as mine. She whimpered, voice wrecked. “Makros… I still feel you. Every inch. God…And I hope you rot in hell.” I leaned in, dragging my mouth to her ear. “That’s right, my good little whore. I want you sore every time you think of me and I’ll make sure to greet your family on my arrival.” I kissed her shoulder, lips grazing hot skin but she used her feet to push me off the bed. “And baby…” I smirked. “That was just the beginning.” “Psychopath!!!” She screamed at me and this made me so angry. I slapped her so hard she knew and felt a ringing sensation in her ear. She held her red cheeks, pushing me again to the hard tile floor but this time with more anger with no desire left in her eyes. She looked at me like I was dead. “You… you…” Her voice cracked, trembling. Her fists beat against my chest, weak but desperate. “You killed my entire family… You monster!” Her scream echoed in the room like a curse. She was breaking—no, she was already broken. I could see it in her eyes and I should have felt something. Guilt, maybe. Pity. But I didn’t. I looked down at her and spoke calmly, with venom wrapped in silk. “And what will you do about that?” Her body stilled. And then it hit her. The realization. That I’d taken everything. She stumbled back a step, like the weight of her grief had finally crushed her spine. “You killed my brothers… You killed them on my special day,” she cried. “You took everything I loved. You don’t have a soul. What did my family ever do to you?!” Her voice was cracked glass—painful, sharp, and impossible to ignore. I stepped forward. “Makros,” she breathed, voice filled with hate and heartbreak. “Makros Crete, the man who wears blood like a suit of armor…” I gave her my name like a final warning. “Say it again. Call me a monster one more time and summon the devil himself.” And still, she hit me. Small fists, broken sobs. Brave, stupid girl. I grabbed her and shoved her aside like she weighed nothing. She crashed against the chair, hard. I didn’t flinch. She got up again. Bleeding, defiant. “I’d rather die than be your wife,” she spat, smirking through blood-stained lips. “You killed my family and still dared to chain me to you and also fuck…No, Rape me without No choice. No consent.” I stepped in closer. “I gave you a choice—marry me or die. And what did you pick?” She screamed, “Death! I’d rather wake up in hell than next to you!” She meant it. Every word stabbed like fire, but I didn’t show it. “You should’ve killed me with them,” she whispered. “No,” I said darkly. “You’re the last Crawford. And you’ll pay for every sin of your father’s name—in my house, in my bed.” Her chin trembled. Her eyes, bloodshot, but not weak. “I, Leila Aziza Crawford, would rather join my family in death than share a name with you.” Aziza. That name. “Don’t ever say that name to me again,” I snapped. “You belong to me. I own your life. You breathe because I say so.” I turned toward the door. “Makros!” she screamed. The word was fire behind me. I stopped but didn’t turn. “You want to know the difference between you and a monster?” she shouted. “The monster never pretends to have a heart. You do. And that’s what makes you worse.” I turned. And slapped her. Hard. She flew, hit the mirror beside the shelf. It shattered around her like glass rain, slicing skin, staining her dress. She collapsed, bloodied, shaking, shoulders quaking from sobs she couldn’t hold in anymore. I stood there. Cold. Unmoving. “You don’t question me,” I said. “You obey. Or suffer.” She lifted her head—barely, and smiled through despair. “I have nothing left to lose,” she whispered. “But whatever you’re protecting… whatever reason you still breathe… it’ll rot. It’ll eat you alive.” I gritted my teeth. “And oh,” she added with a broken laugh, “I’ll be sure to thank my father in the afterlife, for whatever the hell he did to earn your wrath.” And then, before I could move, she grabbed a shard of glass and sliced her wrist. Slow. Intentional. Daring. Blood spilled onto the marble floor. I didn’t stop her. I hissed under my breath. “You want to die? You’ll die by my hands. No one else’s.” Then I walked out. Left her with the pain she tried to escape. Her last words haunted the hallway as I closed the door behind me. “See you in hell,” she whispered. “I’ll be with you shortly, Travis… Kyle… Hunter…Lady Jenner, and you too, Father.”