Chapter 30 #3
My butt cheeks feel coolest, despite the fire, and there’s nothing I can do about it when his rough palm massages each one.
Then his hand moves, mapping my body as if he’s memorizing every inch.
He traces my ribs, skims across my hip bones, making me jump, and then slips between my legs.
But then stops just below where I need it, fingers caressing the soft, tender part of my thighs.
So close to where I’m starting to ache, but not close enough.
I’m burning up. Every nerve ending is on fire. I need him to keep going.
“Troy—” It comes out frustrated, almost a whine.
His hand starts moving entirely in the wrong direction, and I could cry from frustration.
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
I feel him over me again, his mouth against my neck. “Tell me what you want, Sage.”
“I-I don’t know how to.” My voice comes out as a whisper.
I do know, I don’t want to say it out loud. If I speak, it becomes real, and right now this is a delicious nightmare that I haven’t yet worked up from.
He murmurs against my neck. “Then let me take control.”
Finally, he slips his warm hand between my legs, fingers teasing my slit, stroking maddeningly slow. “Like this?”
I nod.
But then his hand dips lower, below where I’m aching, still stroking but nowhere near where I want him.
“Here?”
I shake my head frantically.
He moves to my ass cheeks and teases the hole there.
“Or here?”
A whimper escapes before I can stop it. “No! Back where you were before.” I hate that I’m practically begging him.
His hand finally moves to where I need it most, his fingers dipping into my wetness, and then slowly, ever so slowly, circling my clit. The agonising touch makes me want to bite the rug.
“Is this what you wanted?”
I’m nodding, beyond words now.
“Tell me, Sage.”
God, he’s loving this, making me beg. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
“Good girl.”
When he eventually shifts me onto my back, it’s uncomfortable with my hands tied behind. His green eyes glitter in the low light as he takes me in.
“Troy, can you untie me now?”
I try to pull my hands free, wanting not to be in such an awkward position, to touch him like he’s doing to me, but whatever knot he’s tied tightens.
He straddles me, eyes dark, gazing down like I’m prey that he’s hogtied.
I can feel his length solid against my bare crotch as he sits on me.
My arms and wrists ache, though the pulse between my legs aches more.
“No. I can’t, little finch.”
“But it’s uncomfortable.”
He looms over, his breath on my neck as he kisses me where he bit my ear earlier. “If I untie you, I’ll be worse. This way, you can’t run.”
“I won’t run.”
“No.” He licks my neck. “You won’t.”
He takes something out of his pocket. My heart speeds up when I see what it is, glinting in the light of flames—a long, thin, silver razor.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. But then I’m struggling even more. Fear swirls in my gut, but then something darker makes every muscle clench, and my core tightens involuntarily.
“No. Don’t struggle.” His voice is firm but not harsh. He places his large hand on my belly, and electricity thrums through every nerve ending. I go very still. “I might cut you by accident.”
I stay very still as he moves the blade down his shirt, snipping off the buttons as he goes.
Pop, pop, pop. And then slicing the material—snip, snip.
Until there’s nothing left of the expensive garment. Nothing but luxurious rags. His mouth curves as he takes me in. I stay still long after he puts the blade down, breathing in and out, poised on the edge of uncertainty.
Troy’s hand moves between my legs, stroking me until I’m all but undone. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”
He slips inside one, two fingers, and delves deep. I give a soft moan, unable to help myself, opening my legs to let him in. “Such a good girl for me.”
Heat blooms across my skin, and he continues to thrust in and out, the intensity building to the point I can’t deal with it anymore.
“That turned you on, didn’t it? Do you want more?”
I nod. “Please.”
He smirks, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder, ducking lower. His breath and lips tickle my inner thigh as he kisses there. “You kill me, little finch. I can’t wait to taste you.”
He bites the soft part of my inner thighs so that I moan. And then his mouth is between my legs, sucking and licking, assaulting my clit in a steady rhythm until I’m crying out.
“Oh, Troy.”
He chuckles, breath warm on my sensitive parts. “I love seeing you like this. I love hearing you say my name. I want you to fucking scream it when I make you come.”
The pleasure builds as he devours me like something delicious to be savoured. Going slow, making languid strokes in and out and around, driving me to insanity. I struggle to free myself, but I’m tied too tightly, not that my arms hurt anymore at this angle.
“Please. I want—”
“What do you want to do, my little finch? My tongue inside you?”
Yes. Please. I need it. But the words sound strange in my head. As his teeth rake my tender parts, everything throbs, the orgasm building until I’m almost there. I can’t respond, especially when I’m shaking and breathless.
He stops. “Beg me. I want to hear it.”
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Please don’t stop.” I sound so needy that I hate myself. I lift my hips, trying to chase the feeling, but he pulls back.
But he makes me wait, drawing it out.
“Beg me, little finch. And I’ll give it to you.”
I ball my fists. “Please, Troy. I need you inside me.”
“That’s my good girl.”
When he finally puts his mouth on me again, his tongue plunges inside, and a wave of ecstasy rushes up my legs, making my back and neck arch. I’m so close, it’s maddening.
He pauses again when I’m about to come, his eyes full of amusement at my loss of control. “Not yet. You don’t come until I say you do.”
Frustrated, desperate, I try to move against him again, but he holds me still, his breath hot and teasing on my sensitive parts.
I look up at him. “Why have you stopped?”
He laughs. It’s a nice sound. “Because I want to see you fall apart.”
I grip the rug, staring up at him. My lower half is practically shaking. I’m so so close….
“Please,” I whisper.
He arches a brow. “You want me to make you come?”
I nod, biting my lips.
“Then, use your words.”
I close my eyes because I can’t look at him when I beg him. It’s so wrong that he’s the one making me feel like this. He’s a monster, not a white knight I always dreamed of. And yet, I want only him.
Nell would understand.
“Please, Troy, make me come.”
“With pleasure, but first…eyes on me, beautiful.”
I open my eyes, and his green eyes are watching me as he lifts my hips and hooks my other leg over his shoulder. And then his mouth is back where I need it, on my clit, sucking hard. When his hands cup my buttocks and his thumb sinks inside me, I throw my head back, arching into him.
The orgasm explodes through me, pleasure pulsing through every part of my body. Troy’s mouth slows, licking every shudder, tasting every drop of my release. Every part of me tingles, every nerve in my body is on fire.
There’s a smirk on his face when I drag my eyes open a second time. I smile back, my eyes are drawn to his lips as they glisten, coated in what can only be me. He gently unhooks my leg and sets me back down on the rug, and comes up to where my head is, his forest-green eyes staring right into mine.
“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”
I shake my head, suddenly feeling a little too exposed. But he grabs my chin, mid-shake, and he kisses me softly, and the guilt and shame ebbs and flows away. I taste myself on his lips. It’s a heady taste, not unpleasant.
My whole body feels like I’m falling into an abyss of warmth and sleepy desire.
But it’s not enough. “Wait, you haven’t come yet.”
He shoots me a look as he unbuckles the belt, freeing me. “That can wait.”
I frown. His tone makes me hesitate for a split second, but then his warmth and his scent wrap around me like a forbidden drug, making me bold. I’ve never felt so safe, so content, as I do right now.
“Please, I need to feel you inside me.”
His hips are against mine, and instinctively, I curl into him and he pulls me close.
“You’re making this very difficult.”
Released at last, I run my hands over his hard chest, almost too afraid to go lower.
“Please, Troy. Fuck me.”
I slip my hands under the t-shirt he’s wearing, craving his touch to ground me, to keep the spell from breaking. I don’t want to run away this time. And I need more. But I forgot about the scars…twisted and gnarled, marring his skin. There are so many.
Troy immediately stills. “Sage, don’t.”
Cautiously, I touch one, a burn that looks like melted wax, inked onto it the outstretched wings of a swan.
His hand immediately snatches my wrist, physically stopping me from touching him.
“I said, Don’t.”
His grip is vice-like, digging in; his tone is seething. Is this the same Troy that pushed me to the edge just now, or am I losing my mind?
“I don’t under—”
“Sage.” He lifts me off him and deposits me on the rug before getting to his feet. “You should get some rest.” As he runs a hand through his hair, he casts his eyes anywhere but at me, voice angry, clipped. “Kathy will be awake soon. I’ll send her to see to you.” And then he leaves the room.
What…what just happened?
He’s gone. I stare at the fire until it fizzles out, my lips still tingling from his, my body trembling from the pleasure and pain he just teased to life in me.
As the haze clears slowly, like fog burning off the lake, reality crashes down.
My skin feels hot, not the delicious warmth engulfing my entire body just now, but shame.
Everything from falling into the lake until now replays in my head. One moment I was sinking, the next I was safe in his arms, and then... the way he kissed me, touched me, like I was the only thing keeping him alive. And then he just left.
God, I begged him to fuck me.
I squeeze my eyes shut to block out that particular memory. But then all I see is Troy’s cold gaze tearing me down. He looked at me like I was a monster for touching his scars.
Was it a mistake?
Of course it was.
This isn’t normal. Normal people don’t have heated makeout sessions with killers.
The scathing look he gave me keeps flashing in the darkness of my mind, cutting deeper with every replay.
Even if he didn’t kill Nell, Ragg’s body is in the freezer.
Something’s not right. I should be on the next boat home, not begging him to take even more pieces of me.
For a moment, while I’m wrapped in the blanket, as the fire splutters and dies, secretly, I wish I could go back to that second when he kissed me and I felt...
I felt wanted.
Swept away in the fairytale that I could be someone he wanted to marry. For once, my sister’s ghost is silent. But there’s no room for her anyway.
But then she laughs.
“It’s not you he wants, dear Sis. You’ve forgotten, he was mine first.”
Eventually, the cold drives me to move. The fire's completely dead now, and I'm shivering despite the blanket. I’m also naked under it, and it doesn't cover a lot, so I need to get dressed.
I get to my feet, shakily, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The walk back to my room feels endless, with every shadow making me jump and the old house creaking on every stair, reminding me I'm alone with my thoughts and Nell's ghost.
When I push open my bedroom door, I stop. On the chair by my bed, folded carefully, is a sweater; dark cashmere and expensive. Even with boxes of my new clothes lying around.
It’s unmistakably his.
I stare at it, my throat tightening.
Then, I pick it up, tentatively at first, as though it might bite me. But the fabric is soft and still smells of him—woodsmoke and cedar and masculine. The same scent that coiled around my senses while he brought me to oblivion by the fire.
He left me downstairs, walked away without looking back, the disgust clear on his face. And then, he came here and put this here for me.
Why?
It's not you he wants, dear Sis.
But he left me his sweater.
I clutch it to my chest, confused and furious and emotionally drained. My fingers shake as I pull it on over me. It's too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past my hands, the hem reaching my thighs.
But it's warm.
And it smells like coming home.
Breathing it in and hating that it makes me feel better, that even after he looked at me like he did and left me on the sitting room floor, alone…this stupid piece of clothing makes me feel like he cares.
I crawl into bed wearing it, too exhausted to sort through my feelings and try to understand what it means. Who knows what’s going through his head? I’ve given up trying to figure him out.
Closing my eyes, I try not to dream of Nell.
He was mine first.