Chapter Thirty-One
Lilac
I must be a sadist when it comes to Irvin. He told me to meet him for a date at the movies, but instead, I’m at Lyrical and Snow’s farmhouse. I backed out of it because I don’t trust myself around him. He has this hold on me that I can’t shake.
My husband is too alluring, and I fall for his manipulation.
Lyrical’s farmhouse is in the middle of nowhere, which I find strange.
Why would they move away from society? Natural sunlight peeks through the curtains.
The living room is clean, simple—the opposite of the mansion I live in.
It’s light and not as suffocating. It’s peaceful.
Something I crave. I lean against the dark couch.
Lyrical sits across from me as we play Go Fish while Snow reads a book on history. I don’t say anything to Snow because he’s… well, Snow. Mean. Cold. Distant.
When I first met him, I thought he was the biggest asshole on the planet.
He doesn’t say anything to me. What does Lyrical see in him?
But I guess she can ask me the same thing about Irvin.
To be honest, I think the reason Irvin and Snow don’t get along is that they are too much alike.
They are both stubborn, controlling, and cruel.
The difference between the two is that Irvin is quiet about his cruelty and uses mental control, whereas Snow uses physical control more.
“It’s your turn, Lyrical,” I say.
She slams her card onto the cushion of the couch. “Go fish.”
We’ve been worried about Winter. Each of us has been taking turns visiting the hospital.
The swelling in her brain has been going down since the accident, and we don’t roam the campus at night like we used to.
Keanu is going crazy trying to figure out what happened to her.
He’s on edge and patrols the campus along with Jameson and Snow.
Irvin is still under investigation for Winter and the rest of the victims.
My phone buzzes with a call. I look down at the screen.
Ambrose’s name pops up across it, but I hit Decline.
I have nothing to say to him. Ambrose has left me numerous messages, but I let them go to voicemail because I don’t want to open the door again to my past. I shouldn’t have called him in the first place.
“It’s your turn,” Lyrical says.
I study my card for several seconds and slam it on the coffee table. “Go fish.”
Snow gets up from the couch, sets his book on the table, then kisses Lyrical on the lips.
“Are you two hungry?” he asks.
I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Are you going to put poison in it?”
He glances at Lyrical, then back at me. “No. If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. And I wouldn’t poison you.”
“What would be the method of my death?” I joke.
He strokes his chin. “I like a good strangulation.”
My eyes widen, and I gulp loudly.
“I’m joking.” He disappears into the kitchen, grabbing a few bowls from the counter. He puts a silver pot on the stove and grabs some seasoning from the cabinet.
“Is he always this unhinged?”
I glance at Lyrical, and she pulls the scrunchie from her wrist and wraps her hair into a high ponytail.
“Yes, he has always been that way since we were teenagers. How are things between you and Irvin? Did that bastard really trick you into marriage?”
I nod, then shrug. “He’s unhinged as well, just in a different way. He wants full control over my life, and I’m not about that. I mean… I don’t know. I’m confused about a lot of things, to be honest.”
“This lifestyle isn’t bad, I suppose,” she answers. “I was born into it. I had a lot of restrictions growing up.”
I set the cards down on the coffee table. “How did you meet Snow?”
“We met when I was seventeen years old. I wasn’t into boys or sex at the time. I showed him my artwork, but he never told me how he felt until last year.”
“I had no idea.”
Snow hands us each a bowl of garlic butter noodles.
Lyrical and I eat quietly. My heart aches.
It’s not the same without Winter around.
She’s usually the one who lightens up the room with her big smile.
Now I walk around with an ache in my chest, hoping and praying that she’ll live.
That she’ll wake up. Whoever the killer is on campus needs to pay.
I hope the board members find out who did this.
The doorbell rings. Snow grabs his gun from the back of his pants. Does he always answer the door with a gun? I don’t blame him. Can’t be too careful. Irvin still has guards patrolling the estate. He opens the door. Irvin leans against the archway and hands Snow a case of beer.
“Lilac is here, and I want to be with her tonight,” Irvin murmurs.
He tracks Snow’s every move. Snow tucks his gun back into his pants, then opens the door wide.
My breath hitches, and I grip the fork hard until it hurts. God, he gets on my fucking nerves. What does he want? Why is he here?
My eyes drift to his, and a smile spreads across his face.
“Princess.”
He doesn’t seem mad that I disobeyed him.
“Lunatic.”
Lyrical giggles, and a smile spreads across her face.
I shake my head. “What do you want?”
“Do you want me to throw him out?” Snow asks.
Not taking my eyes off Irvin, I say, “No. He can stay.”
Irvin folds his arms across his chest. “We need to talk.”
“No. I’m in the middle of a game,” I say. “We’re playing Go Fish. Now, I need to win this round.” I set the bowl of noodles down, then pick up my cards.
“Lyrical, can you please give us some privacy?” Irvin asks.
My heart hammers in my chest. He’s up to something.
Lyrical looks between me and him, then swallows thickly.
“Oh, I need to speak to Snow,” she says, smiling nervously.
She leaves the living room. The silence stretches between Irvin and me, and the air is thick.
He comes up to me, grabs me by the arm, leads me to a spacious bathroom, then locks the door behind us.
My pulse races in my neck, and my fingers tremble.
“What are you doing?”
“Punishing you for disobeying me.” He smirks and steps forward.
I rush to the door, but he blocks me. “Take off your clothes, princess.”
I stand there like a statue. “What? You can’t be serious. We’re at our friends’ house.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “You heard me. I don’t care where we are. You stood me up on our date.”
Heat floods my neck and ears. “When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I don’t want you?”
He grips my chin, stroking his fingers along my lips. I hate that my body responds to him—how he makes my skin flush, how he makes knots form in the pit of my stomach.
He sits on the edge of the white tub, yanks me over his knee, lifts my long-sleeved dress, and smacks my ass cheeks.
Did this lunatic just give me a spanking? Oh, hell no.
I bite down on my lip, keeping myself from moaning. Why did that feel good? Why did I like that? He sets me on the floor, removes my panties, and stares at my core. He places his mouth on my clit, and I moan. My core tingles. A shiver snakes up my spine.
“I’m going to come.”
He stops. Waits. Grins. Studies my reaction.
What the fuck is he doing?
He places his mouth on my clit again. When I’m on the verge of coming once more, he stops again and sits up.
Arousal grows in the pit of my stomach—so much—and I clench my teeth.
Why am I so turned on by this? I should hate it.
I should hate everything about this man, but somehow he knows how to get me sucked into his world.
I don’t want him, I tell myself, and the only reason I’m enduring this is that I have to.
Because I don’t have any choice. He plays too many fucking games with me.
He slides his fingers between my folds. “You’re so fucking wet for me, my princess.” He slides farther inside me. “So tight as well. I want your pussy squeezing the life out of my dick.”
“Irvin…”
He removes his dick, edges it to my entrance, and slides in.
I feel full and exhale loudly. I need him inside me.
I inhale sharply as my core adjusts to his width and length.
It feels as if he’s hitting a wall. He shoves forward, then pulls out, placing his finger on my clit again.
He thrusts. In. Out. In. Out. When I’m on the verge of coming, he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants.
“What are you doing?”
He gets to his feet, zipping his pants. “You defied me. So you need to be punished.” He places his hand on the doorknob.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper-shout. “That’s cruel.”
He stomps up to me and brushes his mouth against my forehead.
My cheeks warm, and I arch my spine.
“Don’t do this to me.”
“I love you begging, my princess.”
“Asshole!”
I can’t believe I’m begging him to fuck me. What the fuck?
“Irvin. Please. Finish this.”
He strokes my hair. “No, princess. You need to be punished for your disobedience. If I catch you getting yourself off, I’m going to deny you orgasms for a month.” He slaps my ass, and my flesh aches from the pleasure and pain.
“Next time I tell you to do something, you do it.” He kisses my lips. “Lyrical is waiting for you.”