Make Me (The Silent Hollow, #2)

by Alina May

He’s always wanting something. Always wanting me. Doesn’t he know there’s nothing left of me to give? Never has been, never will be.

Ronan is mine to break. Mine to torture. Mine to play with. And when I’m done making him pay for reminding me of what I can’t have, he’ll be mine to kill.

“I want,” the man leans closer, “to ruin you, Ronan Carter.”

And then Logan’s warm hand closes around my dick, and suddenly, the world stops. It’s like every nerve ending has gone straight to my dick, and they’re on fire and ready to combust. Logan grips me hard, his hand strong and demanding, wrapping around my shaft like he owns it. It feels fucking good.

“That’s a good boy. Grit your teeth for your master.”

“I don’t eat dick,” I mutter. “Or ass.” Although, maybe I would. In another life, of course. It would have to be clean. A clean asshole. Squeaky clean. My tongue would have to make squeaks on it. I giggle.

feel sweaty. Sweaty and dirty and not quite right in the head. And fuck you, before you say anything, I know I’m not right in the head. But right now, my head feels like a jar of jelly. And the jar of jelly feels like it’s stuffed with faintly buzzing bees. Nothing is hurting, nothing is anything. Just faint humming caught behind a buffer.

Logan smiles, giving me a little pat on the cheek. “Good boy.” And now, I’m suddenly hard.

At this point, I don’t care anymore. Maybe, all this time, I was playing for the wrong team. Maybe it’s not the heroes who save the world at all. Maybe it’s the villains.

“You just need to be fucking punished; that’s what it is. Fucking brat.”

His hand jerks my dick roughly. The sensation is overwhelming, locking me up every time he brushes the tip. I must be drunker than I thought, and I fucking like it. Note to self: drink whiskey; it makes you gay.

“You suffer so sweetly for me.” He grins meanly up at me, and I tense. Then, Logan kisses the tip of my dick and moves as if he’s going to stand up.

Finally, he pulls away. It takes me a second to catch my breath. I’m not sure if I ever will. Because that was the best kiss I’ve ever had.

But he won’t look at me. He is flustered. And I fucking love it. I want to pull him into the bathroom and make him more flustered. Show him what the consequences are for disrespecting me. Want to shove my dick all the way up his–

But still, I go. What other choice do I have? Because I’m finding that anywhere Ronan Carter goes, I’ll follow.

“Show me your fucking throat like a good boy.”

“Stop fighting me. I’m not hurting you.” I hiss at him, struggling. “I’m not hurting you. Right?” Logan’s voice is low and demanding in my ear.

“I’m not hurting you. Right?” Logan’s voice is low and demanding in my ear. I stop for a second to assess. I’m fucking uncomfortable, but I’m not in pain. “Good boy. That’s what I want. A good slut all tied up in my arms.”

“Good boy. That’s what I want. A good slut all tie...

“Is this what it takes?” He moves his lips to the skin of my neck, whispering, “Threatening your life? Do you want to die, Ronan?”

“Oh, so now you want to live. Hard to believe with that stunt you pulled earlier.” Logan’s voice deepens in anger, and his grip tightens. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Sometimes, I just want to kiss the fucking attitude right out of you.”

And then his warm tongue is tracing the seam of my lips, and fuck, I part to let him in. He presses into me firmly, dominantly, like he wants to suck the free will right out of my soul. And fuck if I might let him.

“Never,” nip, “scare me,” nip, “again.”

“You gonna be a good boy for me?”

“Good boy,” he moans. “Keep making those sounds for me.”

“Oh, fuck no. You can be a brat all you want, but you don’t get to be embarrassed about the thing that’s getting me off right now.”

I just came so hard that I’m pretty sure I might be a little gay. Which…fucking scares me a little.

Dakota is quiet. He’s a tortured poet that I just want to protect. On the flip side, Ronan is aggressive. He’s the fight that I love so much. They’re like two sides of a coin. Two sides of Greyson.

My heart clenches in something odd. Something fucking possessive. I just want to make both of them safe. I want to make Ronan feel safe to be soft. And I want to make Dakota feel safe to be hard. I couldn’t do it back then. But maybe, just maybe, I can do it now.

“He wants to crawl and eat from your hand.” My whole body is tense, but my mouth wants to fall open. Did he just say…crawl?

“Down, cub.”

Suddenly, his lips are crashing down over mine in the most consuming kiss. The smell of whiskey crushes over me so powerfully that I feel it catch in my lungs. His kiss feels like pain. The raw way he bites and nips at me matches what I feel in my soul.

It’s time to kill a man with my boyfriend and our lapdog. It’s not justice because if it was, this would have happened a long time ago. But it’s the best I can do.

“So you,” I point at Dakota without looking at him, “are going to keep going. Keep sucking him off until he comes. No running.” I move to Ronan, who has sat back up. “And you are going to start living.”

“I’m trying to make you,” Logan hisses. “Trying to make you safe. Make you happy. Make you seen.” He leans in, those blue eyes so fucking tortured it kills me. “But here’s the thing. You have to let me.”

“Look at both of my sluts.”

“Come,” Logan demands. Ronan gives a breathy laugh, “Make me.” And then Logan does.

It fills my heart with a swelling feeling, watching them both so at peace. It feels like my chest is a sponge, filling up with liquid until it doesn’t fit in me anymore.

Loving someone is scary. The more you love, the more you can lose.

And, in that moment, nothing is okay, and everything is okay all at the same time. Life isn’t fair, but it’s also so, so beautiful.

My whole body is full of pleasure and fire. Because I have my men. And it’s my honor to get to love them fully. To make them safe and happy, even as they do the same for me.

“Bite it,” Logan whispers. “What?”

“Do it. Be my nasty boy and come for me. Paint these walls so I have something to remember you by.”

Because, even without the whiskey, I think I might be a little gay.

Logan’s hand falls on my shoulder, and I feel infinitely grateful. For the note they left for me. For helping me get sober. For kidnapping me. Fuck. I’m definitely fucked in the head because 10/10 would get kidnapped again.