Epilogue #2
The approach to Grayfleet from the rear twists through hills thick with evergreens.
The house looms like the castle from Sleeping Beauty with dark stone, wrapped in mist and waiting for someone brave enough to wake it.
Troy’s hand is on my thigh the entire time, possessive and warm even through my jeans.
Ben is in the back seat, his head poking between us occasionally before settling down.
Snow is falling heavily now, coating the grounds in white as we pull up to the house.
The autumn rains have given way to winter precipitation, falling as ice or snow, which has drained the one road to Grayfleet, so we don’t have to keep taking a boat.
It’s made the renovations easier. In spring, we’ll become an island again, when the snow and ice melt, feeding the lake. But for now, we’re connected.
The fairy lights Mundel installed around the entrance glow softly, making the place look welcoming for once as we get out and start hauling our shopping in.
Inside, Troy immediately takes my hands. “Stop with the bags. I can do that. You’re frozen.”
“I’m not that cold.”
“I was going to get a fire lit, but I think a bath would be better.”
“No, there’s no time.”
He’s already taken the bags from me, leaving them on the kitchen counter, before leading me upstairs. “Bath. Now. We have Laine’s Christmas party later, and you’re not going anywhere until you’ve thawed.”
“I can run my own bath.”
“I know you can.” He’s already in the bathroom, turning on the taps. “But since we’re all alone, you’re going to let me look after you for once.” As he runs the water, he tests it with his hand to check the temperature, then adds salts before lighting the candles scattered around the tub’s edge.
Then he looks at me. “Strip.”
I bite my lip and start unbuttoning my coat. “Is there really no one here?”
He straightens, comes over, and takes my coat. “Just Ben.” He barks an order in Irish, and Ben slinks out.
“Really, Troy, you don’t need—”
He kisses me, cutting off the words. It’s not gentle. His hands are in my hair, around my neck, pulling me closer. Then he hauls off my t-shirt, over my head, drags me closer by my belt loop, and unbuttons my jeans for me.
He eases them down, over my hips. The cool air makes my skin shivery, but the heat from his eyes sets every part of me on fire.
He straightens and moves to my bra. Ping.
The clasp undoes in his hand, and it falls away, leaving my breasts heaving and exposed.
My nipples peak as he takes one and then the other, in his mouth, sucking hard.
Out of nowhere, Mercy comes up in his grasp.
He teases the edge over my tummy, down to my knickers, my slit soaking wet under the silk lace.
“Don’t keep cutting up my underwear,” I hiss at him, but he’s not listening,
Snip, snip, and then my knickers are gone.
He drags me to him. I can feel the barely leashed control in every line of his body. Mercy is cold against my inner thighs.
“Now get in, before the water gets cold.”
I sink into the bath with a moan that makes Troy look like he’s about to explode.
The heat is perfect, seeping into my frozen muscles.
Troy sits on the edge of the tub, just watching me.
It’s strange being fully naked while he’s not.
I feel bare, exposed…vulnerable, so much so that the familiar ache spreading through my lower half won’t be satisfied until he joins me.
What?” I have to ask.
“So, Laine’s party. You’ll want to wear that dress. The dark red one.”
My brow furrows. How do you know which one I picked out?”
“I saw it hanging in the closet. It’s perfect.” His eyes have that glint to them that makes my stomach dip, adding to the frustration. “But if you’re wearing it, you’ll want smooth legs.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I can shave my own legs, Troy.”
“I know you can.” He’s already reaching for his razor kit, pulling out a fresh blade and shaving cream. “But I want you to relax and enjoy it. Let me take care of you for once.”
“Okay, but don’t cut me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He positions himself at the end of the tub, lifts my foot out of the water, then places my heel on his lap. Through his trousers, he’s rigid. The cold air nips my toes and shivers up my inner thighs as he leans over and gets to work, ignoring his straining cock.
I wish I could do the same.
The bathroom is suddenly too warm, the water too hot, with the steam rising around us. Fairy lights from outside cast soft patterns through the frosted window as I stare at it, trying not to grind my heel into Troy’s crotch, especially as Ben is watching.
I glance over. Ben is indeed lying in the doorway, head tilted, as if he’s not sure what’s happening but is willing to supervise.
“He’s judging your technique.”
“My technique is flawless.” Troy lathers my shin with practiced ease. “I used to do this professionally, remember?”
“You were a barber in prison.”
“Best in Port Penn.” He draws the razor up my calf in one smooth stroke. “Before I became a serial killer billionaire.”
“Quite the career change.”
“The pay’s better, but the hours are hell.” Another stroke, careful and precise. “Although the benefits package is excellent.”
“Oh?”
His eyes meet mine, dark and heated. “I get to come home to you every night and make you come on my mouth.”
I almost stop breathing. “Troy. Come here.” I need him inside me now. The warm water is doing things to my lower half, and every time he scrapes the cold metal over my skin, so very gently, I come close to combusting. “When are you going to just get in the water and fuck me?”
I don’t know when I started being brazen enough to ask to be fucked, but it came about quite quickly.
“Shh. Let me focus. I’d hate to nick you.” But his smile is wicked as he leans over, now focused a little higher. “Although you do look beautiful when you bleed.”
I bite my lip.
His breath is hot, and his hands move with deliberate care, not quite going where I need them.
But close, occasionally his knuckles graze between my legs, making me whimper.
When he finishes, he rinses my legs and the neat triangle between them with warm water, his hands sliding roughly over my skin, making my spine tingle and a hot flush spread through my core.
“All done,” he says, but his voice is gravelly. “Ready for the party?”
“Not yet. You missed a spot.”
I catch his wrist, yank him closer. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub as he almost falls in. He gives me a dark look and leans in. Ignoring him, I pull his hand between my thighs, to where I’m wet and needy for him. “I prefer this bare.”
“You want me to take everything off?” His hands cup me, fingers sliding inside as he does, sparking me to life.
“Hmmm, maybe later.”
His lips find mine. The kiss is slow, deep, full of dark promise, and his fingers swirl through my clit, fucking me slowly and torturously, making my hips jerk and the water churn.
“Sage,” he breathes against my mouth. “If you keep fucking my hand like that, we’re going to miss Laine’s party.”
“Fuck her party. I want you to show me what you had in mind for the saltire cross.”
I shove Laine and Nola from my mind. They are my friends, and I care deeply about them, but Nola has gone missing and won’t let us help her, and Laine has her baby and Jaxon to occupy her. They won’t miss me for a little while tonight. I can be selfish for once, can’t I?
“You’re incredible,” he says against my mouth. “Terrifying and fucking incredible.”
Then he drags me out of the water and carries me into the bedroom.
TROY
We don’t make it anywhere else. With no cross, I make do and tie her to each bedpost instead, making sure I spread her pretty pussy as wide as possible.
Then I blindfold her.
Her body is still soaking wet, and she’s trembling, cold, no doubt. I take my time building and lighting a fire. With every noise, of matches striking, wood scraping, flames spitting to life, she jerks against her bonds.
“Troy? What are you doing?”
“Shhh, I’m busy.” There’s a smile on my face as she makes a frustrated sound.
“Are you even coming back?”
I turn to see her naked, exposed for me on the bed.
Her hair is wet and tangled in the sheets.
She looks divine, too good for me, but she always has been.
The monster in me finds her absolutely fucking perfect, like she was made for me to hunt down and break apart, and devour whole.
I wasn’t expecting her to surrender so readily to me, her throat bared like she’d been waiting for me to just take her, despite her instincts screaming at her not to.
Even now, her breath is heavy as panic sets in, but she’s letting me do this.
She’s turned on so damn much, how can I stay away?
I can’t.
Once the fire is roaring, and she’s no longer shivering, though her nipples are still hard as bullets, and standing to attention for me, I walk over to where she’s lying, waiting like a sacrifice left at an altar for me. All the things I want to do to her, she has no fucking idea.
But I would raze the world before I let anyone, including my twisted, fucked up self, hurt her.
Raze the fucking world.
“Fuck, yes. I’m coming back.” I take off my t-shirt and jeans, and then my boxers. “You’re mine, little finch. Don’t forget that.”
Then I kiss her, as deeply as I want, plunging my tongue inside her sweet mouth. She smells of gingerbread and tastes of mulled wine. Mercy is in my hands, and as I pull back from the kiss, I run the blade lightly across her jaw, over her neck and collarbone, down to her breasts.
“Do you remember when you asked me if it was true that I was a cannibal?”
Her entire body goes rigid. “Y-yes.”
“Well, this is why.”
She hisses when I make a tiny cut on her inner thigh and then kiss her there, tasting just how beautiful she is, and then lick and suck her pussy, smearing her blood over her entrance, until she’s gasping, her back arching, begging for more.
“Please, Troy.”
“What do you want, little finch, tell me?”
“Please, fuck me.”
I grin, though she can’t see it. “Not yet.”
She pulls against her restraints. “Mercy then, let her fuck me.”
Fuck, she’s amazing, and she’s all mine.
I tease the handle over her clit, and then rub the warm metal over her slick pussy. She moans and writhes, but there’s nothing she can do to stop me pushing inside with the razor.
I fuck her with the handle until her blood and juices are all over my hand, as she’s trying to ride it. Then I drag it out and tease the wet metal over her damp skin, over her stomach, up over her breasts, to her lips.
Her tongue darts out to taste herself.
I don’t deserve her, really, yet here she is. Just thinking about how I used to imagine having her here. In this house. In my bed, tied up like this…moaning my name.
I take my time with her. Map every curve and hollow like I’m memorizing her. My hands shake slightly as I trace her skin.
The reality is better than any fantasy.
“Please, I want to taste you.”
“You want my cock in your mouth, sweetheart?”
“Yes, that’s what I want.”
When I crawl up her body to kiss her, she’s desperate for me. I straddle myself over her face, and as soon as her lips wrap themselves around my shaft, I’m undone.
She sucks me hungrily, licking and sucking me down as I move my hips, grabbing her hair and holding her head while fuck her mouth.
But then I’m close. Too close.
“No, yet little finch, you’re going to make me come like that.”
I pull out and move lower, sucking her nipples, biting them as I position myself between her legs. She’s so slippery that the end of my cock nudges against her entrance. Sage angles her hips up, but I hold back.
“Troy, please. Stop teasing me.”
“You want me to fuck you now.”
“Yes, hard, please.” She’s panting now.
As I coat myself in her, running the length of me over her slit. I’m so hard for, I won’t last. So I need to get her as ready for me as I can so that when I fuck her, it won’t be long before she’s coming too, all over my cock.
I try to be gentle, but she whispers, “Fuck me now,” like she needs to feel the intensity of it.
I’m not gentle after that; I give her everything—the control I usually guard so carefully, the vulnerability I never show, the desperate love I’ve been carrying since that first night in the alley when Nell/Sage looked at me, and I knew she was the one.
She’s warm, so fucking warm as I push inside her and then bottom out, feeling that I can’t go any deeper. Then I pull out slowly, all the way. Then shove back in again, deeper, harder, taking care to suck her nipples and bite her neck so that every ram of hips drives her to the edge.
After that, I kick up a rhythm that has her arching into me, trying to move with me. There are no more words. Just the feeling of her skin against mine, warm and alive. Just the sound of her breathing, hitching when I drag my cock inside her just right. Just the perfection of being with her…
My songbird, who knows my darkness and loves me anyway, scars and all.
Her skin is so smooth, and her hair in my hands feels silk. The air smells of lavender bath bubbles and those damm Christmas candles she keeps buying, and she tastes of soap and cinnamon and all things too damn nice.
When I’m close, I thrust myself into her, hard and shudder, a groan escaping my lips. She cries out, tightening her legs around me.
“Oh fuck, Troy, oh my god.”
I feel her orgasm around me, and then I’m coming too, leaving my mark deep inside her.
After we lie there tangled in the sheets, I glance at the clock.
“We can still make the party.”
“You want to go?”
“Yes. I know you do. I can see it in your face.” She’s desperate to go and won’t tell me why. I’ll have to pry it out of her later. It’s something to do with her friends, I know it.
“Is that the only reason?” Her voice sounds unsure, and she looks exhausted, but there’s a freshly fucked smile on her face as she takes me in.
“Because I want to show you off. Want everyone to see that you chose me. That somehow, impossibly, you’re mine.”
“Possessive much.”
“Always.”
I pull back, look at her under me, naked in all her glory. “Come on. Get dressed. I want to see you in that red dress.”
“And then?”
“And then I’ll spend all night thinking about taking it off you when we get home.”
Thank you so much for reading On Edge, the second book in the Villainous Delights series!