Chapter Five
Irvin
I lean against the glass door of the library, watching my princess pack up her belongings and stroll in my direction.
Jameson sent me her school schedule earlier, so I know exactly when she’s in class. I blew up her phone tonight with reminders about our date, but she ignored every one. Cute. She really thinks she can skip our weekly nights together, and she really thinks we’re not in a relationship.
The doors slide open, and she steps outside. Her eyes snap to mine, wide and startled. She bites her lip, fingers tightening on her backpack strap. She tries to act casual, but her body betrays her.
“What are you doing here?” she prompts.
I study her face. She’s pale, and the light in her gray eyes is vacant, like she’s an empty shell.
“I told you we’re going on a date.”
I place my hand around her waist, yanking her close. She shoves me, but I don’t budge.
Her silky hair falls over her shoulders, and I remove a few strands from her face.
“I told you no. I have things to do.”
I grip her harder. “Have you eaten dinner?”
Her gaze drops to the concrete, then she shakes her head.
“Do you have food at home?”
She nods. “I do.”
“Then why haven’t you been eating?”
She rolls her eyes. “I do eat. I ate a burrito this morning.”
I stroke the side of her cheek, locking my gaze with hers. “Lilac, it’s seven p.m. You need to eat, princess. We’re going to a restaurant, then we’re going skating.”
She folds her arms, pouting. “Please, Irvin. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to go home.”
I grip her chin, gently stroking her bottom lip. “I want to witness you eat something.”
Her teeth chatter, and she wraps her arms around her body, so I slip my dark coat over her shoulders.
Her eyes glint. For a heartbeat, she relaxes.
“After this date, will you please leave me alone?”
I chuckle. “I’m not making any promises I’m not keeping.”
“Fine.”
She stomps across the empty parking lot to my white Mustang.
I open the door for her. She slides in, strapping the seatbelt across her body.
Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I press the push-to-start button, and the engine roars to life. Then I zoom out of the lot, drumming my fingers on the leather steering wheel.
She plays with the hem of the coat as she holds her head down. Her shadow-gray eyes match mine.
She’s hiding something from me, and she can’t be herself fully.
She wears a mask pretending to be happy, but deep down she’s not—she’s sad, very sad.
She doesn’t let anyone in, not even her friends.
I’m going to figure out what’s going on with my princess, I vow to myself as I grip the steering wheel tight.
“Where do you want to eat at?”
She rests her head on the window. Sighing, the leather creaks when she sinks into the beige seat. “I have food at home.”
“‘I have food at home’ isn’t a restaurant, princess,” I say, amused.
“Doesn’t the skating rink have food?”
I arch my eyebrow. “Is that where you want to eat?”
“They have the best mozzarella sticks.”
We pass the iron gates, fiberglass skyscrapers climbing into the sky, and old buildings choked in ivy, rotting under their own decay. Above, the stars scatter like silver dust across a misty sky, while headlights slice through the fog.
I grew up here, listening to ghost stories about how this town was haunted. I never believed them. To me, the place has always felt enchanted.
Once I glide into the parking lot and kill the engine, I open the door for her.
She rolls her eyes and steps out. I hold her hand, and she tries to tear herself away, but I grip harder, squeezing gently.
I lean down and brush my lips against her forehead. “This is a date, Lilac. Start acting like it.”
“A date I didn’t agree to,” she snaps.
We stroll to the counter, and I pay for our skates. I amble her toward a table, peel off her shoes, and slide the skates onto her small feet. Then I remove my shoes and put on my own.
Techno music pulses through the speakers, and neon lights flash brightly, assaulting my eyes.
A waiter dressed in white pours a glass of beer and sets the jug on the table, then collects our orders before leaving.
Lilac types on her phone, then sips the foamy beer.
She also doesn’t know that we’re going to be married yet. For my plan to work, I need information about her father.
“Lilac.” She continues to play on her phone, so I repeat, “Lilac.” It’s like she doesn’t hear me. I clear my throat. “Lilac.”
“What?” she answers.
She does that a lot, ignoring me when I call her name.
The waitress brings our meals.
She digs into her mozzarella sticks. “I’m sorry. I was distracted by something on my phone.”
I down my glass of beer. “Where did you go to high school?”
My question startles her. “Uh… in Florida.”
I scrunch my nose. “What part of Florida?”
She sets her phone down on the table, then bites her bottom lip, her shoulders tense.
“Destin. It’s a small town.”
“What was the name of the high school you attended?”
“Uh… Northside High.”
“Tell me about your parents. You never mention them.”
Her body stiffens. Eyes wide. “What’s with the questions?”
“I’m just trying to get to know my girlfriend.”
“I’m not your girlfriend. You’re going to marry someone else.”
I ignore her.
“Since you’re in my business… were you diagnosed as a psychopath?”
She’s deflecting; therefore, she confirmed my suspicions—she’s lying about where she’s from.
I frown as I thump my finger against the smooth table.
“Technically, I was diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder with psychopathic traits when I was a teenager. I’m not a full-blown psychopath. Who told you that?”
She continues to munch on her food. “A girl from my class.”
Another lie. Snow must have told Lyrical, and Lyrical told her. I should deny her an orgasm for lying to my face.
“A random girl didn’t tell you that. Lyrical ran her big mouth.”
She shakes her head. “Why would she gossip about you?”
“Because you’re asking about me. You want me. Just admit it, princess.” I smirk.
“You have a good dick, but that’s all I could want from you.” She bites into her curly fries next. “H-how did you get diagnosed with having ASPD?”
I dip my wings into creamy ranch before I bite into the juicy meat. “I was fourteen years old. My mother was in a terrible car accident, hit by a drunk driver. Instead of letting the board members handle her death, I took matters into my own hands.”
People get weirded out when they learn my diagnosis, but I don’t give a fuck. You either accept me or you don’t.
“I found the guy, and I slipped six pills of antidepressants into his bottle of tequila and told him to drink it while I held a gun to his head.”
Her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush. “Oh. Did you enjoy hurting him?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “I did. I often volunteer to do assignments so I can hurt people. I confessed to my father, and he took me to Jameson’s mother. She’s a psychiatrist for the American Billionaire Club, and she diagnosed me with it.”
I hated Jameson’s mother. She molested me, then lied and told everyone that I wanted to fuck her.
We had a long affair up until my sophomore year in college, and I threatened her to leave me alone or that I’d put a bullet through her head.
The only reason I didn’t kill her is because I somewhat care about Jameson.
I rest my hands over her palms. “But I’ll never do anything to hurt you, Lilac.”
Her cheeks pinken, and she swallows thickly. Fear colors her gray orbs.
It’s good she fears me. That way, I can keep her close to me.
“Do you want to skate now?”
She nods. “Yes.” She stands up, leaning on the table. “Thank you for being honest with me. It’s nice to know you’re not killing people out of the blue.”
“You don’t seem scared. A normal person would be scared.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, and she shakes her head.
“I don’t want to deal with another person who kills just to kill.”
“What do you mean by ‘another’?”
“The crowd is dying down on the rink. Let’s go,” she quickly changes the subject.
We head to the rink, and the whole time she skates ahead of me.
I catch up to her, curl my hand around her waist, and yank her to me.
She skates like a gorgeous fallen angel. I hold her hand and twirl her around. My eyelids are heavy, and blood rushes down south, getting my dick hard just from staring at her.
Once we’re done with the date, I drive her back to her apartment in silence.
I want to fuck every inch of her body, but I have to have self-control because I want to wait until our wedding night to have her again, until she’s completely mine.
I type in the code to her apartment and nudge the door open.
“I’m going to change the code,” she rasps. “I banned you from entering my apartment without my permission.”
Once we’re inside, I march straight to her spacious kitchen and open the stainless steel fridge door. Just as I suspected, there’s barely any food in there. I grab my phone from my back pocket, tap the Instacart app, and order her food for the rest of the week.
I shut the fridge door and stroll to her bedroom, where I watch her remove her sweater and leggings.
Her gaze lands on mine, and she swallows thickly as she slips on a big T-shirt, the one I gave her last year.
I stalk up to her, stroke my finger against her cheek, then press my lips to her soft, plump ones.
She pulls away and walks across her room.
I stalk up to her again, grab her wrists, and bring them above her head.
“What have I told you about fighting me?”
I watch the pulse jump in her neck.
“I don’t want you, Irvin.”
Her words shoot straight to my dick, and I need to be inside of her now, but I swallow thickly.
I cock an eyebrow, smirking. “Your pussy wants me.”
“So? It doesn’t matter, I don’t want you.”
“Liar.”
I trail my fingers up her thigh and lean down, inhaling her light lilac scent. Sliding my fingers inside her, her pussy is warm, wet, and tight.
She gasps, trying to push me away, but I slide farther, deeper inside her.
The light moan leaving her mouth makes my dick harder, causing an ache against my zipper.
I press my lips to hers, sliding my other hand into her soft hair.
“You’re wet for me, princess.”
“I don’t want you to stop, Irvin. Keep going.”
I finger-fuck her and lick her clit. She wraps her legs around my shoulders, squeezing, yanking a fistful of my hair.
She screams my name at the top of her lungs, begging me not to stop.
Several moments later, I taste her cum in my mouth, the best taste in the world.
I pull out and scoop her into my arms.
It’s been too long since I’ve been inside of her. Too fucking long.
But I’m going to jack off on her tits instead, so I unzip my pants.
Her cheeks are flushed, and she drops down to her knees, removing my dick from my pants and wrapping her warm mouth around the head.
I suck in a breath. A blowjob will work better than a handjob.
“Fuck, princess. I wanted to jack off on your tits.”
“I miss your dick, Irvin.”
I miss her mouth, and I miss her being near me.
She licks all the way to the shaft, stroking it up and down while she sucks on the tip.
My heart beats loudly in my ears, and the tip of my dick tingles.
“I’m about to come.”
She continues to suck.
Several seconds later, I come in her mouth, and then I watch her swallow it.
I spread her legs apart, moving her silk panties to the side and licking her clit again. I can’t help myself.
How I miss tasting my princess.
How I miss consuming my princess.
I can’t wait to make her come for the rest of our lives.
She rides my face, yanking my hair as she screams my name.
I lick up her cum like I’m dying, and she tries to get up, but I hold her in place.
“Please, Irvin. I can’t take it anymore.”
I let her go.
She hurries up and climbs under her colorful blanket. Then I remove my shoes and shirt and slide into bed with her.
“Go to sleep. We have class in the morning.”
I can’t wait to have her as my wife, keep her close, and make her come every night.
I just need to be patient.
I can tell by the look on her face that she wants to argue, but she shakes her head and cuts off the light.
I pull her into my arms, and she leans into my chest, gripping me tight like I’m a teddy bear. It’s comforting, as I have yearned for her touch.
“Is everything okay, my princess?”
“Yes. It’s just that it feels nice to feel pleasure and not be in constant fear.”
Soon after, her light snores fill the room.
Who hurt her?
What is she running from?
I need to know.
I have to know.
So I can protect her.