Page 40 of Fragile Twisted Vows
Which means I need to know all of him.
And sadly, I want to know all of him. All of his wants, his needs. All of his darkest desires and tendencies.
I want every single bit of it.
Even though I shouldn’t.
“Yes. Please,” I whisper finally, staring into the eyes of a man that intends to swallow me whole.
I will never be the same after this.
fourteen
Damien
Her words are a husky, breathless whisper when they leave her pouty lips and I’m a goner as soon as I hear them.
Her eyes are wide and dark, sparkling in the dim lighting of my sex room. I didn’t expect to find her here, though, I had a feeling her curious little feet would wander where they’re not supposed to. There’s something about her that’s been different from the start. Her family keeps their heads down, but hers has always been perked up and looking for things she doesn’t know about.
She can’t keep still.
And as angry as I am with her, I’m glad she didn’t this time.
I’m glad she didn’t listen, thrilled she didn’t follow directions and stumbled upon this place. Because now she can actually get a taste of me, of the real me.
She gets to relinquish all control and let me take every bit of it.
Which is what she wants. I can see it in her sparkling blue eyes, could taste it on her curious tongue when she kissed me in the bathroom.
Lucille Fairchild wants me. And I can’t help but admit I fucking want a piece of this girl too.
It’s why I ripped away from her lips. Why I touched her delicious body in the shower after she watched me kill a man. Why I rewarded her with a taste of my punishment. Because she doesn’t shy away from me when she sees the kind of monster that I truly am. She just grows more curious.
And that makes me really fucking excited, which is both stupid and alarming, but mostly, it’s why I’ve kept my distance from for the last forty-eight hours.
I want to show her. I want to show her just how sick and twisted I truly am.
“There’s ground rules before we start,” I grumble out, and her eyes light up further as she nods.
Jesus, she’s fucking eager and hell if that doesn’t make my cock harder.
“You keep quiet unless I say otherwise,” I growl, and she nods slowly, as my hand moves from her chin to circle tightly around her wrist.
“If it gets too much, you think of a word that tells me to stop,” I say, and one of her dark brows raises in question.
“Can’t I just say stop?” she asks and I shake my head at her while she eyes me with confusion.
“No. Because the body tricks you,” I say as she tilts her head at me.
I can’t be frustrated with her questioning. She’s new to this.
To all of this.
“Sometimes, stop means it’s too much, too good for the body to handle, too confusing when you mix pain with pleasure. There has to be another word when you’ve had enough, when things go too far,” I explain, and she inhales deeply.
“And would you?” she asks.
“Would I what?” I say.
