Evie is a sickness. An infection I need to eradicate. And the quickest way to do that is by fucking her out of my system. I will fuck her—hard and fast and brutal like I do all my conquests. That’s all Evie is. All she can be.
Gritting my teeth, I start to leave, but then the clouds shift and a stretch of moonlight falls across her porcelain skin. Shallow scratches streak the white planes of her palms and thighs, still healing from our little trip. I frown, hating how the beast inside me wants nothing more than to lick every one of her wounds clean.
I don’t like seeing my things hurt—not unless I’m the one doing the hurting—but Evie surprised me. She fucking loved me watching her, being envied and eaten by that piece of shit on his knees before her. All while jealously rolled off me in waves. The fucker couldn’t even eat pussy right. It’s not normally my thing either, giving instead of taking, but licking Evie’s sweet juices from my fingers had me craving another hit. High off one taste.
And here I am. Watching my sweet little virgin toss in her sleep, the spike of her arousal growing more potent. Peaked nipples strain against her white cotton top, and I let my gaze trail down her body, landing on a pair of matching white panties.
I should leave. I should leave. I should leave.
But another low whimper slips from her lips, and it’s my fucking name she whispers—a sleep-induced hallucination as she rolls, kicking the rest of the sheets away.
Her knees fall open, and fuck me, but I climb onto the bed, accepting the offer of Evie’s parted legs. Slickness coats her inner thighs, and I drag my nose up the center of her. Inhaling her sweetness, letting it fill my lungs, breathing life into my withering soul as she unconsciously rolls closer to my touch.
“What are you dreaming about?” I murmur against her thigh.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think my little fox has been touching herself. A low chuckle escapes me, the warmth of my breath fanning over her core as I realize she hasn’t come since I denied her. I glance up her body, imaging how beautiful her nipples would look bruised from my teeth before brushing my tongue against the flickering pulse at the junction of her thighs.
“Would you like to come, Evie?”
A low moan rumbles in her chest as she twists, grinding against my mouth. The scent of her hits me like a primal pheromone, taking hold of my judgment and leading me down the familiar path of sin. I hook a finger beneath her underwear, tugging the thin fabric out of the way. Her pussy is fucking perfect, glistening with want, even in sleep.
“Fuck,” I murmur, needing to sink my proverbial fangs into her soft flesh To have my venom invading every molecule of her being until she is utterly and irrevocably changed.
The first sweep of my tongue drags a guttural moan from her parted lips.Just a taste, I think. I’ve lost too much control already, but I’m diving back in, half-crazed by the way her sleeping body responds before I can stop myself.
Her hips undulate against the lashing of my tongue as her small fingers thread through my hair, holding me in place as I work her clit. Her thighs clench around my head, already on the precipice like the good fucking girl she is. Unable to deny her a second time, my teeth graze her clit, a gasp falling from her lips as her body coils.
Then, I suck. Hard. Her back arches as she cries out, and I hold her there, palm on her stomach, face buried in her cunt until the last of the orgasm passes and I feel her body start to relax. Start to wake.
Doe eyes, heavy with sleep, blink down at me as the edges of her blissed-out mind try to focus, but I’m gone before she has the strength to lift her head.
I don’t allow myself to turn back as I pad down the stairs and slip into my room. My hard cock strains, aching from the scent of her still smeared across my lips and face. I shove my sweats down and grip the base, stroking myself in brutal jerks as I lick the edges of my mouth, imagining her riding my face. Her perky breasts bouncing as she grinds her pussy against my tongue, using me for her pleasure.
It’s not enough.
The physical urge is only a reflection of my internal needs. And release won’t find me until I’ve satiated both. With a growl, I tug my sweats back up, the grey fabric tenting over my massive hard-on, before reaching for a fresh canvas.
My fingers graze the textured surface, still smelling like her, and I want to capture it—her. My brush flies, color and chaos clashing as I think of her sweet taste, her smart mouth, and those needy little moans she just made for me. She’s struggling with her faith, still wearing that silver cross, but I like the look of my fingers wrapped around her throat more. Of her mouth parted, tongue poised, waiting and ready for me.
Paint flies, coating the easel, the rug, my chest—but I don’t stop. The picture is demanding, consuming, insisting—just like Evie.
I don’t want to think about how alive I’ve felt these past few weeks. How Evie’s presence has transformed not just me, but the world. Colors are more vibrant, sounds crisper. Touch… god, when she touches me—it’s almost enough to make me question what’s beyond this realm. This reality. This life.
My cheeks are damp with tears I don’t remember shedding. I’m not sure if it’s anger, envy, or something more sinister that has my fingers trembling, the brush falling from my grasp as I step back from the riot of texture and color.
Because as I stare at the piece before me, inhaling the heady mixture of Evie’s arousal and acrylic paint, I wonder, for thefirst time since that cursed night when my sister was stolen, if maybe there’s something beyond vengeance worth living for.
No. No, no. I’ve sacrificed too much. Come too far to go back now. Swallowing, I coat the edge of my brush in black, intending to hide the exorcism of my soul staring back at me.
Just as I lift the tip, my phone lights up with an image of a teal sloth.
Noctis: We’ve found him.
21
EVIE
I’m avoiding Tempest again, but not for the reason she thinks. Silas and the rest of the Seven have been at the house for the last few weeks. Music blasts downstairs at all hours, with different types of takeout cartons appearing in the fridge the next morning. Tempest knocks on my door each night after her homework is finished, but I always decline joining. Because what the actual fuck?
