Little Nightmare (Wrecked, #2)

by Melissa McSherry

“You’re a prick.” That makes his dark eyes lighten a tad as his smile widens. “I’d never claim to be anything else.”

She’s not even trying to hide the smirk tugging at her lips, the one she always gives me when she thinks she’s gotten the upper hand. She’s still fucking with me, still playing me, but fuck if I don’t want her to.

“Not bad,” she says, forcing the words out, her eyes darting to mine with a flicker of amusement. “Could use a little less charcoal, though.” I narrow my eyes, leaning against the counter as I watch her. She’s definitely fucking playing with me. I know

There’s this pull between us, like a rope being drawn taut, ready to snap at any moment. It’s been there since the beginning, since that first night in the café, but it’s stronger now, almost suffocating. I need to control it. I need to control her.

Crazyyyy

I grip her chin, tilting her head back so she’s forced to look up at me, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “You don’t get to play with me,” I growl, my face inches from hers. “Not like this.”

I don’t think. I act. My lips crash into hers, rough and demanding, and she gasps against my mouth, her hands instinctively flying up to grip my shirt.

I press my forehead against hers, my breathing heavy, trying to regain control. “Don’t lie to me.” “I’m not lying,” she breathes, her hands sliding down to grip my arms, pulling me closer. “I’m not playing games.”

Then, she leans in, her lips brushing against my ear, her voice a soft, breathy whisper. “Then don’t trust me, just fuck me.”

Yesssss Cara

“Rhett…” Her voice is a whisper, soft and trembling, and my name on her lips makes my chest tighten. It’s a sound I’ll never tire of.

“You make me feel things I don’t want to feel. You make me weak.” Weak. I hate that word. It grates at me, sharp and raw, because I know that’s not what she is.

“I can’t give you what you want,” she says, her voice cold, distant. She’s trying to shut me out again, but it won’t work. It never does. I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Then give me what you can.”

Wait why is this so romantic??

She’ll fight me again, maybe even try to run. But she won’t get far. I’ll always find her. And if anyone tries to take her from me? I’ll make sure they regret it.

My heart sinks as I watch him. He looks so fucking happy. Like a golden retriever puppy doing everything he can to make me smile, even when he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Fuck,” he breathes before bringing the wine glass to his lips, guzzling it down like it’s beer. “You’re trouble.”

She will. My little nightmare will be completely mine soon enough.

“You belong to me. Not just your body, not just your life. Every. Single. Part of you. Your mind, your thoughts, your soul—it’s all fucking mine, little nightmare. You’re mine to break, to shape, to own. And you’re going to learn that one way or another.”

That’s the thing about Cara—no matter how much she tries to fight it, no matter how much she tries to convince herself that she’s afraid of me, there’s that dark part of her, that tiny twisted piece of herself that she tries so fucking hard to hide, that craves this. Craves me.

This isn’t just about control, about owning her life. It’s about owning her, completely. Every dark thought, every twisted desire. She belongs to me, and there’s no way out. No escape. And I’ll make sure she knows that. Every second. Every day. This? This is only the beginning.

Crazy guy

He’s a fucking psycho and a monster, but I keep finding myself completely enthralled with him.

“What?” I ask, my heart pounding. “I have an idea,” he beams like a kid on Christmas. “Tattoo your name on me, and I’ll do mine on you. That way, everyone will know how real this is. They’ll know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Who do I think I am? I’m nothing more than a hostage to him and I’m sitting here thinking about wanting to cut the head off the bitch he calls his tattoo artist. I want to be his tattoo artist.

Forcing away the thought and pushing it down for later, I smile as I say, “I’ll teach you.” The biggest grin spreads across Rhett’s face. “I’ll be your apprentice.”

“I can tattoo you first, and I’ll explain everything as I’m doing it.” I pull black gloves over my hands. “Where do you want it?” Rhett’s voice does not waiver as he says, “My cock, little nightmare.”

IM DONE

My eyes widen as I take in his words. “Your cock? Do you realize how much that’s going to hurt?” “I mean, I have my cock pierced, so how much worse could a tattoo of your name be?”

AHHHHHHH

His voice is soft as he says, “I want my name on your inner thigh. Anyone who gets close enough to see it will be dead before they can finish reading it.”

My eyes trace the lines on Rhett’s face one at a time, memorizing them. He has the most sheepish grin on his face, which makes me smile. I can’t not smile at him. Even through all the fucked up shit he’s done, he’s a real person underneath all of the unhinged chaos. He’s genuine and kind, and now he’s shown me the softer side of himself. I’m beginning to like all of his different sides.

I glance down at my cock, my hand tightening around the steel barbells of my Jacob’s ladder, and there it is—her name, tattooed on my flesh between the piercings in the most perfect cursive font. The fresh ink burns under my palm in the same way it did when the needle first hit. Cara. Permanent, unbreakable, carved into me just like I’ve carved myself into her. Like I carved Jonah’s head for her.

“You’re not staying here,” I continue, my fingers brushing her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “I can’t trust you not to run. And I won’t fucking lose you to anyone. Not tonight. Not ever.”