Chapter 17
seventeen
The first full week of our month together goes according to my plan. Wake up with a blowjob from my pet, sans spicy mint. Shove her into the next room so I can get my routine in. Drive to classes. Eat lunch. Study in the library.
Until a snag on Friday has my teeth grinding. Her extra interior design lab is running late. And I hate waiting. Especially for her. The girl who shattered my heart.
Thumbs on my phone, I type up emails and assignments while pacing the hall outside her class. Every few seconds, I get distracted, watching her gab with the girls at her table through the glass in the door. She’s smiling. Happy.
Like it means nothing to her that she destroyed me.
I drag my eyes off her glowing face for long enough to finish a message to the brothers—reminding them to wipe their coke lines off the hot tub edge unless they want another bird corpse collection.
Then, I finalize the details of mine and my sister’s plan to eradicate my appointment. Okay, she wants to end the president.
I just want to be rid of Hailey Twinston.
Either way, someone won’t survive the month.
“Aiden! There you are!”
As if I called Hailey into being, she hustles toward me from down the hall. I mentally chide myself for even thinking of her. I glance toward Ashlyn’s door again, but she’s still not done.
“What’s up?” My eyes snare on her fingers as they grip my bicep.
“Just wondering how you were. And, uh, how things went with my father. You spoke to him, right? He said you did. I was wondering about us. You know, our appointment? Thought we could discuss rings.” There’s a terrifying hope behind her eyes as her hand reaches for mine.
But then she follows my field of view and spots Ashlyn, who’s laughing and scribbling on her notepad.
“Do you need me to come and visit you at Theta Manor? Help you…clean up some trash?”
I drag my gaze back to her angelic expression. Pretend innocent. Jealous. And deeply unattractive.
“No. I think I’m coming down with something. Probably best you stay away. Wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
“I could bring you soup! I’m a great cook!” She smiles broadly, cluelessly.
“Nah, the chef makes some stellar stuff at the manor…”
“Oh.” Her face falls as her fingers grip the strap of her bag. “Well, if you change your mind—”
“I won’t. See you.” I give her my back, hoping she’ll walk away. When I finally hear the clicks of her heels on the floor, my shoulders relax.
It’s frigid as fuck outside today, and I smile, sadistic and satisfied, as Ashlyn stands.
Nipples pebbled under the pleather pink bodycon I forced her to wear.
Thing’s so short, you can see where her ass meets her thigh.
So low that the tops of her rosy areolae peek out, desperate for attention.
So tight, every breath she takes makes her waist sink in deeper.
She’s sex in liquid fabric.
Shivering and blushing like a kitten dropped in cold water.
A hellkitten.
Her face is carefree, but the moment she sees me leering at her across the hall as she exits the room, her expression hardens, and her arms cross over her chest. This only makes her breasts rise higher, and my cock grows harder.
“What’s the matter, baby? You look like a sugared tulip left out in the frost.”
“I’m freezing, lord. I’m going to get sick. And then I’ll get you sick.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and saunters a few steps in front of me toward the parking lot, then stops. “Never mind. I think I’d quite enjoy watching you die slowly of consumption.”
Rolling my eyes, I shrug off my puffy black winter coat, then toss it over her shoulders. “First of all, you don’t get sick from the temperature outside. That’s a myth. It comes from—”
“People staying indoors in proximity, I know.” Lower, under her breath while shoving her arms down the sleeves of my jacket, she adds, “I didn’t know you knew.”
I grab her tote and my backpack, sling them over my shoulders, and lead us out of the glass-and-pine design building—sleek, modern, the kind of space she studies and I quietly admire. Out in the lot, I head for the Porsche.
Part of me thinks I should’ve made her ride on the back of my BMW motorcycle—especially dressed like this. Let her freeze against my spine, legs wide, heels slipping off the pegs. Let the whole damn campus see what she is.
“What did you learn today?” I ask, hand behind her headrest, as I reverse out of the spot.
She curls deeper into my coat, tugging it over her thighs like a blanket. Instead of answering, she cranks the heater to full blast.
My fingers hook under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Speak. Tell me what you learned.”
“I’m tired, Aiden. I don’t want to play.” With a whip of her head, she turns to face the window and mutters, “I want to veg tonight. Can’t I have some peace?”
“Didn’t seem so tired when you were chatting with those girls in your class.”
“Because they don’t ask stupid questions.”
Jaw clenched, I focus on the road and ignore my palm tingling, itching to rub the creamy thigh sticking out from under my coat.
Seeing her drowning in it, the collar of ownership around her throat…
I shift in my seat, readjusting myself without shame.
Her gaze flicks down to the movement in the corner of her eye.
“What? You want me to suck you off now, too?”
“You’re one snide remark away, missy.”
She crosses her arms. “From what?”
I lick my lips, thinking of all the ways I want to hurt her. Punish her. Use her body for my own pleasure.
“Fine. You can take a break. You’ve worked hard this week, and I’m proud, Ashlyn. I am. Bet your grades will be better for it.”
You’d think no one had ever said that to her…and, knowing where she came from, a little about her family situation…they may not have. That thought hits me hard—too hard—and for a second, I yearn to pull over to hold her. Tell her she’s so good. Smart. Worth it.
But I tighten my grip on the wheel and remember what a fucking bitch she really is.
“Thanks,” she whispers, blinking at the side of my face to see if what I said was a joke.
When we get to my room, I slide to my desk to finish up some fraternity business.
Ashlyn emerges from the guest suite in loose pajama pants and a sweatshirt, a tray of snacks perched on her hand like an offering.
She curls up under the covers on my bed with a tablet and headphones. Like it’s her place.
I hate that I wish it were.
She slyly glances at me as if I won’t notice her in my space and not on her dog bed. Or the sofa. Or the guest bed…
Always pushing. Making my cock throb harder.
It’s a test. I know it is. But the thing about my baby girl? She’s the only one who makes me feel anything other than apathy. Even fury flames hotter when it’s because of her.
I tell myself I’ll finish the email before I look again.
But I don’t.
Rage pulses through my veins as she lifts a cracker to her lips, spraying it with a hiss of pressurized cheese.
Yellow sludge drips onto my red velvet comforter, smeared away with a careless swipe of her palm before she stuffs the snack in her face.
Breaded shards dust my black sheets like snow.
She brushes off her chest with a flick of her fingers, knocking more crumbs loose, all of them waiting to pierce my skin like needles when I crawl into bed later.
Silently, I stand and whip off my belt. She swallows, watching me with the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s done. And maybe even regrets it.
I untuck my shirt, unfasten each button one by one, gaze locked on my pet.
Bare-chested and slick with a fever only destruction can cure, I grab the key from the desk, unlock my closet, and retrieve what I need.
The succubus yanks off her headphones, eyes widening as she studies my tools. Her little fingers clutch the sheets to her chest like armor.
“What’s that?” she whispers.
I don’t answer.
Instead, I reach above the headboard for a wooden paddle, then lean in close enough to press my lips to the crown of her head.
Strawberries.
Sweetness.
And sin.
I place the spreader bar on the mattress next to the paddle. With a snap of my fingers, I point to the floor.
“Kneel.”
She hesitates.
The irritation I’d bottled tight threatens to erupt. She must feel it, because she scrambles into her learned position in front of me. Spine straight. Hands resting in her lap. Head bowed.
“But…what is that? Lord?”
Her voice trembles just right—laced with fear. The kind I put there.
Bending over her, my cock closes in on her mouth beneath my trousers. I snag the can of cheese from the nightstand and hold it over her head.
“Look up.”
With caution, she obeys, lips parting instinctively.
I squeeze a line onto her tongue. “Good girl.”
She swallows it slowly, like it might be poisoned. Astute of her.
“That,” I murmur, tapping the metal of the spreader bar with one knuckle, “is a device to lock you in place. While I punish the fuck out of you.”
“But I—”
“I’m not interested in excuses.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “You’ve been pushing my buttons on purpose, and you know it. Disappearing. Taking up space in my bed… That little lip you’ve been giving me any chance you get.”
I crouch, pressing my face close to hers. “This month is about submission, Ashlyn.” My fingers drag the paddle closer, and I give it a good thump in my open palm. “And I’m about to teach you exactly what that means.”
She’s still and collected, quiet for once. And I relish the moment.
“Strip. Get on the bed. All fours.”
She follows my instructions without sass and scurries out of her pajamas until her gorgeous little body is sizzling with need. In position, her bare pussy gleams in the low lamplight, looking delectable enough that I want to eat it.
With a firm grip on her leg, I tug it back as she huffs out a hesitating breath, then lock her ankles to the bar, silky thighs spread wide for me. I can smell her cunt from where I stand behind her, palming my cock like a weapon.