28. West
“ Y ou’re fucking insane!” she screams, shoving past me like a hurricane. I can’t help but roll my eyes at her words. It’s as if she’s just discovered this for the first time. “We can’t show up at the premiere like nothing happened!”
I run my hand through my hair, a laugh bubbling up inside me. Even though we’re arguing, I feel nothing but pure, childish amusement. Nervously, Venetia’s jade-hued eyes flicker across the room, avoiding any real focus. Her cheeks are flushed, and her fingers twist and turn in anxious fidgeting, discomfort radiating from her like a cloud.
Tonight is the premiere of that ridiculous movie Elijah’s in. We’ve been invited, and I think it would be rude to decline. But Venetia insists it’s insane to show up and watch the guy I brutally murdered just a day ago. Honestly, I don’t understand why she’s so bothered by it.
“Why not?” I ask, my tone casual. Her wild eyes snap to mine, and her brows shoot up to her hairline.
Fuck , she’s adorable when she’s confused.
“Because—” she trails off, waving her hands as if it’ll help her find the words. “Maybe because you killed him, West?”
“So?”
She huffs in frustration, her gaze dropping to the floor. “This... I can’t with you. I just can’t.”
“It’ll be weird if we refuse,” I say. “You don’t want them to suspect anything, do you?”
Slowly, she looks up at me, her earlier worry replaced by a flash of defiance. Her lips twitch, barely concealing the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You’re so manipulative,” she retorts, each word dripping with bitterness. “Even after everything.”
Honestly, I couldn’t care less about anyone suspecting anything. But if it gets her to agree, I’m more than willing to use that to my advantage. “After everything ,” I echo, savoring the last word. “You mean after I showed you who you belong to?”
“You don’t own me,” she snaps, her fingers scratching at the skin around her nails. My girl gets nervous for a reason. “You’ll never own me, West. I can run away anytime.”
“Like you tried to do yesterday?”
She turns her head away, and the memory of catching her in that corridor, forcing her down to her knees, flashes through my mind—still fresh and vivid. My cock twitches in my pants, and I have to straighten up, trying to regain some semblance of common sense.
“Anyway,” I begin, “we’re going, Venetia, whether you like it or not. I still don’t trust you, which means I need to make sure you remember what will happen if you try to pull a stunt like before.”
“Stop it. I won’t do anything if you stop talking nonsense. You suggested sharing me, West. Those weren’t my words.”
“Did you really think I would allow that?” I ask, my voice rising. Our relationship is far from perfect, but it stings to know she believes I could do something like that. I just wanted to piss her off. “Stop scratching at your skin and come here.”
“Don’t tell?—”
“Come, Venetia. I don’t think your knees will survive another impact with this laminate.”
Hesitantly, she closes the distance between us, but she doesn’t stop scratching at her skin. I wonder why she does that whenever she gets nervous. It mostly doesn’t happen during our arguments, but when we start discussing certain topics, it seems to trigger her.
Or maybe I’m just overthinking it.
I reach for her hands, forcing them apart. The skin around her nails is already red from the pressure, with some areas dotted with dried blood.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, brushing my thumbs over her abused skin. “What triggers you?”
She shakes her head, trying to pull her hands back like the stubborn little serpent she is. Why can’t she learn that I can easily overpower her?
“Nothing. It’s nothing, West.”
“You’re going to tell me sooner or later,” I say, leaning in and kissing each of her fingers.
She sighs deeply. Her hands are still the center of my focus, but I can feel her heavy stare on me. She will tell me, and when she does, those who did this to her better fucking run because I’m coming for every last one of them.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she groans, using every ounce of her strength to break free from my grip. “Why can’t you understand? I don’t need you, West. I don’t need anything from you.”
“You still believe that?”
“I know that,” she snaps, stressing the second word. “What we did… It means nothing. Just sex. I’m still?—”
“Fucking mine,” I interrupt, my patience running out. “But don’t mistake this for a one-sided deal. Just as you belong to me, I belong to you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, baby girl.”
Her face contorts into a cute, angry scowl, nostrils flaring as she simmers with that intoxicating fury. “I think I’ll have to kill you eventually.”
The thought of her pressing a blade to my neck or aiming a gun at my temple sends an electrifying heat through me, blood surging to my cock. “I’d like to see you try,” I mock. “But I thought you preferred to tear people apart with that sharp tongue and your cunning tricks.”
“You’re right,” she says firmly. “I might not be able to physically overpower you, but trust me, if I get angry—and I will—I’ll find a way to break you, West.”
It’s an adorable little threat, but one that’ll never come to pass, since I’m already fucking broken.
We’re skilled at faking feelings. But tonight, our love isn’t the main focus of the pretense. Instead, we’re pretending to feel guilt. Well, Venetia is. I couldn’t care less about Elijah.
Curious eyes surround us, whispers filling the air as everyone wonders where the main star of this terrible movie is. It’s exhilarating to realize I’m the only one who knows the real answer. Venetia hasn’t asked what I did to him, and even if she did, I wouldn’t tell her. My lady doesn’t need to know about the mess I made or how I dissolved every part of him in acid.
The venue is expansive, with two floors, fancy decorations, and—much to our fucking surprise—velvety upholstery draping the seats. It’s the kind of place that will haunt our dreams. A large screen looms before us, its black surface absorbing everything around it, including our reflections. Dozens of round tables, covered with white sheets, are scattered throughout the space. Venetia keeps shifting from one foot to the other, anxiously scanning the space for a better place to sit. She’s nervous, but not because of what I did to Elijah.
I can see through her facade. She hovers on the brink of her sanity, afraid to let her true feelings emerge—and with good reason. Pretending to be someone you’re not for your entire life will do that to you.
“Come on,” I urge, squeezing her hand as I guide her deeper into the room. She struggles to keep up with my pace, huffing and muttering curses under her breath, but I ignore her. As I spot a table at the far end of the room, a smirk spreads across my face when I see it has only one chair.
Perfect.
“West!” she whisper-shouts, trying to halt my progress and pull me back. Her little struggle makes her look like a stubborn child reluctant to leave the playground. “There are better places to sit!”
Finally, as we approach the table, I swiftly pull out the chair and plop myself down, spinning her around and pulling her onto my lap. She gasps and tries to squirm away, but I press her closer to my chest, ignoring her feeble attempts to escape.
There’s a whirlwind of feelings inside me toward Venetia. While most confuse me, one thing is clear—she’s the first woman I want to keep repeating everything with, including our intimacy. As strange as it sounds, sex has always bored me. I never found much enjoyment in it, and my time was consumed by work, leaving little room for indulgence.
But with her, I want to keep going.
“Stop fidgeting,” I murmur softly into her ear, burying my nose in her hair as I take a deep breath, intoxicated by the sweet, smoky scent of cherry. “Be good, Venetia. You don’t want anyone to see how much you dislike me.”
“We look weird. What’s the problem with me sitting beside you?”
“The problem is—” I trail off, tightening my grip on her waist and pulling her closer. The way her body rubs against mine sends a surge of electric satisfaction through me, and I have to stifle a groan. “We came here so you won’t forget who you belong to. I need you close for that.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, tensing as her eyes dart nervously around the room. Slapping her purse on the table, she mumbles, “So many people are watching…”
“We’re in a relationship,” I interject, quelling any worries that might be racing through her mind. My lips travel from her cheek to her neck in a slow, deliberate motion. “Two people madly in love with each other.”
In the blink of an eye, the room is engulfed in darkness. I feel the tremor that ripples through her body as she fidgets in my lap, unsuccessfully trying to escape the hardness pressing against her. The screen flashes to life, and the room fills with whispers and gasps of awe. While everyone else’s focus is on the film, mine never wavers from Venetia.
“Lean your arms on the table,” I command. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything you won’t like.”
With obvious reluctance, she complies, and I nearly roll my eyes at the flicker of defiance that still burns within her. She’s not easy to break, and each time she loses the game, it fills me with a sick sense of pride.
The title of the movie appears on the screen, and the crowd’s chatter intensifies with excitement as if they’re about to witness a cinematic masterpiece they’ve long awaited.
I guess most of them don’t need much to satisfy their minds.
I let Venetia bask in an illusion of peace, watching as every muscle in her body relaxes, and she finally stops fidgeting in my lap. I have no idea how I’m managing to keep it together. The urge to throw her over my shoulder, head back to our hotel room, and bring every fantasy I have to life is nearly overwhelming.
Minutes tick by, and when the main idiot finally appears on the screen, I feel her tense up. She tries to lean back, only to press harder into my chest. With one hand still resting on her waist, I let the other slide down to the side of her thigh, easing it beneath her dress. I take my time, savoring the shiver that runs through her as I trail my fingers to her panties, only to discover nothing but warm, wet flesh.
“Now, who’s being such a dirty girl?” I whisper into her ear, the warmth of my breath causing delightful tingles to spread across her cheek. “Keeping it bare for me, baby girl? I love that.”
Her back arches as she melts against me, biting her bottom lip to suppress a sweet sound. “It’s a pretty dress. I don’t want any lines showing.”
“Yeah, but it makes it harder for you to pretend you don’t want this,” I reply, gliding my index finger along her pussy lips. She grabs my hand, attempting to guide me to her clit, but I shrug her off, denying her any hint of her touch. “Keep it natural if you want me to continue. What happened to that fear of someone seeing us?”
She lets out a long, irritated sigh but ultimately complies, placing her hands back on the table and fixing her gaze on the screen. “What happened to your desire for everyone to see who I belong to?” she retorts, rubbing her ass against me. I clench my teeth, the friction of the fabric separating us sending delicious, painful pleasure through my body. “I thought you wanted them to see , West.”
This fucking woman. I give her one word, and she fires back with ten. I make a biting remark, and she retaliates, multiplying the impact. She accuses me of being manipulative, yet she does the same to me—if not worse. It feels like she’s fucking with my mind, bending me to her will, and somehow she’s the only one who can provoke such a visceral reaction from me.
I really don’t know what I want more—to fuck her or to kill her. Probably both.
Annoyance brews inside me, twisting and turning my insides while spreading its poison through my veins. In an instant, my hand is back on her pussy, but this time, I don’t give her a chance to warm up. Sliding two fingers inside her, I slap my other hand over her mouth, muffling the scream that was about to escape.
“Maybe I should consider getting you a tight collar with a button I can press and tighten whenever you get sassy. Would you love that, baby?”
She tries to curse at me, but I press my hand down harder, her warm breath tickling my palm. My thumb finds her clit, and I start rubbing circles across it while maintaining a pace that drives her wild, plunging in and out of her already soaked pussy.
Venetia throws her head onto my shoulder, her eyes rolling back from the pleasure. No matter how she tries to present herself, my girl enjoys it when I take control. It’s a fine line that can easily blur if we’re not careful. In our dance, it’s clear—she bites, tries to escape, and then I chase her down to show her that she’s mine.
Her phone vibrates, sending a shudder through the table as it slips out of her purse, the screen lighting up with ‘Dad’ flashing across it.
A wicked grin twists my lips as I catch her glance at the phone, her expression one of undeniable bliss. I lean closer to her ear, holding myself there for a moment, closing my eyes to savor the tension in her body as she waits for my next move.
“You don’t need him anymore, do you?” I ask as she grinds herself against my hand, chasing her climax. Gradually, I lower my hand from her mouth, the urge to hear her reaction taking over. “Not when you’ve got a new Daddy from this moment forward.”
I can feel the sweet sound rise in her throat, and before she can release it and draw all eyes to us, my hand moves back to her mouth, my fingers never ceasing the pleasure she craves. The phone finally stops ringing, and she closes her eyes, giving herself to me like a star collapsing into the endless void of space.
Her breathing quickens, muffled moans attempting to break free, and just when I sense every muscle in her body tensing, poised for the long-awaited euphoria, I pull out, keeping my hand on her inner thigh. Gently, I withdraw my hand from her mouth, and she gasps for air.
I hadn’t planned on giving her a quick finger-fuck and then sitting here to watch the rest of this crap. No, I need more of her.
Her head hangs low, the flashing images on the screen illuminating a wet trail sliding down her flushed cheek. The sight weakens me further, and a pleased smile spreads across my face.
She tries to squeeze her legs together, chasing the high she desperately craves, pushing against my hand as I prevent her from doing so. Fully aware of her sensitivity, I slap her inner thigh. Hard. One, then another.
“I fucking hate you,” she hisses through clenched teeth, and I let out a low laugh against her cheek. “How can you manage to get even worse than you already are?”
“Ah, look at that,” I coo mockingly, gripping her cheeks as I hold her in place, purposely ignoring her sharp words. “So desperate to come right here, with so many people around. Does that turn you on?” I kiss her lips, lingering longer than I intended. She has an unexplainable ability to draw me in without even trying. “Does this shy little thing get off on the thought of being surrounded by strangers?”
“Just as much as you get off on having control,” she whispers against my lips, “I enjoy being fully under it.”
Fuck . She’s going to be the death of me.
“Yeah?” I tighten my grip on her cheeks, turning her to face the screen where Elijah delivers his mindless dialogue. We can’t ignore the main reason we’re here. “Look at him, baby girl. See him?”
She inhales sharply, her nails digging into the table as the twisted pleasure surges through her. I remember when I first saw her react like this after I revealed the truth about the times I killed for her. It wasn’t dread or shame that flooded her system—it was something deeper, something only a sick mind could fully grasp.
She enjoys this.
“You want to know what I did to him?” I ask, my fingers finally returning to her pussy. She tenses as I drag my finger up her folds, and shrieks when I twist that sensitive bud between my fingers, giving it a sharp pinch. “I cut off every single finger he used to touch you with,” I begin, and her lips part as she bumps the back of her head against my shoulder, sinking back into euphoria.
Her eyes remain glued to the screen, while a gleam of sadistic satisfaction lights up her eyes, and I know exactly what’s going through her mind. She wants to picture what I did, and I’m determined to give her every single fucking detail.
“I cut off his tongue,” I keep going, letting my lips graze hers before her tongue slips into my mouth, circling mine. The pressure inside me intensifies, building low in my stomach.
I don’t want to come in my pants again, but fuck, it’s getting hard to hold back. The effect she has on me is something that should be studied—she embodies every sinful thought I have. Her soul is as depraved and twisted as mine, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the most addictive feeling I’ve ever experienced.
“I gouged out his fucking eyes for the way he looked at you.” My breathing quickens as I increase my pace, working her faster, making her wetter, pushing her closer to the edge. I want to tease her, to prolong her pleasure, but I doubt I can manage it. She makes me feel too good, and I want to give her what she deserves.
“Fuck, West,” she moans, trying to keep her voice down, her entire body tensing like a tightly wound chord. “You’re going to make me come.”
“Then give it to me,” I exhale, my lips seeking hers. We kiss, and waves of electric jolts rush through me, lighting up every nerve ending. What starts as a flicker between us quickly turns into a blazing inferno, consuming every rational thought in its wake.
Kissing her is like stepping into another realm.
“Did you enjoy killing him?” she asks, barely holding herself together. “Did you enjoy doing it for me?”
I let out a low, amused chuckle. “What’s your secret, Venetia? How many people know just how deprived and obsessive you really are?”
“Shut up and answer my question,” she snaps.
This time, I let it slide, but that doesn’t mean I won’t find out what I need, sooner or later. “Yes,” I reply, driving my fingers into her harder and faster, giving her everything she needs. “I would do it all over again for you .”
My words act as the tipping point, and her lips part as a scream rises in her throat. Before it can escape, I press my lips against hers, silencing both her and myself as we break apart. Her walls tighten around my fingers, and her body trembles against mine, each spasm flaring through my veins like a burst of fireworks.
My teeth sink into her bottom lip as I come, feeling like a lust-driven teenager. She grinds against me, intensifying my orgasm to the point where it feels like I’m being torn apart, her hand clutching the back of my neck, holding me in place. Both of us are breathless, eyes shut, clinging to each other as if we’re each other’s lifelines.
I’m hopelessly addicted to her—to her scent, her voice, her fucking attitude, to everything she gives and will give me in the future.
Even though I realize how wrong this is, moments like these only add gas to my fire. It feels like I’m making the same mistake again, but I can’t stop.
I just can’t.
I don’t want to be dependent on her, but it’s already begun, leading me toward an inevitable downfall.
The moment is shattered when music begins to play. ‘ I’m Gonna Miss You ’ by Milli Vanilli fills the air, and we lift our gazes, catching sight of Elijah’s character driving away with the song pulsing through his car’s speakers.
Slowly, we turn to look at each other, the lingering lust still smoldering between us. A tired, awkward smile tugs at the corners of her lips, accentuating her perfect features. I’m not even aware of the smile forming on my face until hers widens, and she chuckles, burying her nose in my chest.
Yeah. This is unironically accurate.