Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(43)

I yelp softly at the force of it. Catch myself. “Uh-huh?”

“Precisely.”

He tosses me beneath him, and a hundred sharp corners tear across my naked back—photos, documents, their edges worn to tattered blades. Cold friction on warm skin. His weight pushes me down into the mattress, his fingers ignoring the fact that he’s more or less still fully dressed and pulling my panties down instead. Some vague attempt to readdress the power balance here; have him in control, him atop me, him half-covered while I lie helpless and bare.

It’s working. It always works. I may not be entirely predictable, but God, I’m self-indulgent, whether it’s despair or desire or revenge.

Aeron plants himself firmly between my spread thighs. His first kiss is slow and hard all at once, stirring sparks of arousal in parts of me so swollen that they ache. His cock sits hot on my inner thigh, and the flat plain of his belly presses against my *; he’s lying this way on purpose, just to tease me.

“How do you feel about it?” I whisper as he pulls a sucking kiss down my throat. “What’s it like to inspire a wolf like him?”

“Shut up.”

He reaches my nipples again, squeezes my breasts while he alternates licking one peak, then the other. Always, he grooms me to partake in other methods of worship. To do the things he wants. But then isn’t that what foreplay is, at the best of times…?

“You must’ve really hit a nerve with him,” I go on, nauseous at the words. I’m talking to myself more than him, almost. “Struck a chord.”

“Shut up, Leo.” He shoots me a glare of warning; something about this unsettles him.

Curious.

My heart beat begins to stutter. A few short weeks ago, it was me whose kisses were laced with panic, and him who goaded. But then such is our relationship; we swing from light to dark, power too skittish in either of our hands to rest there for long.

He drags his mouth down between my legs, my clit puckered and sensitive to the probing of his tongue. It’s difficult to keep still, now. My hips follow his every stroke.

“I feel l—like we’re missing something,” I pant.

“Mmm.” The word vibrates around my clit.

I shove my knuckles between my teeth. His kid brother is in the next room, for Christ’s sake.

“The thing that’s missing is that I don’t sit around planning how I’m going to kill people.” He nips at my outer lips, maybe a little too hard. “What a f*cking waste of time that is.”

“Unless you actually do it.”

“Which I don’t.”

“Don’t you?”

He lunges up over me on thick, rigid arms, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show tendons bulging beneath tanned skin. His eyes are hollow again, teeming with absolutely nothing. “No.” His voice is unsettlingly calm. “The one time I…I didn’t…”

With my eyes still trained on his, I reach down to grasp the weight of his cock and then press it into the sticky mess of my *. I buck up just once in invitation.

Aeron stares down at me. “You want to f*ck a killer? That what you want?”

“I do f*ck a killer.”

“But not one like him.” Inch by inch, he slides in. He feels bigger, as if something between us has grown. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You not afraid of me enough anymore…?”

I can’t look at him.

I can’t listen.

All I can do is feel…and he gives me enough of that.

No one has ever f*cked me quite so hard. He shoves my thighs back, my legs up, and each thrust lands deeper, deeper until there’s nowhere else to go. The bed hammers against the wall in a staccato rage; we twist atop it, shuddering and angry. He’s always furious, even when he slows down, but this…he’s lost to any kind of reason, and I plummet down into the gutter right with him because the most terrifying thing in this moment is that he might leave me behind. I keep unconsciously jerking away from the punishing drive of his cock—my body knows to escape this, that to stay will be damaging—and yet he delights in holding me down. I shouldn’t have wound him up so much, but ah…when it results in this kind of full-to-bursting, scissor’s-edge-of-sweetness pain, I can’t regret it.

Aeron leans down to hiss into my ear. “You want my hands around your throat? My knife up inside you? Is that what it takes, now?”

“No.” The word is a desperate wail. A genuine one. The mere thought fills me with horror, and yet coming from his mouth, the idea is…I don’t want to hear it again. I might not be able to refuse.

Too much. I can’t take the violent intrusion of him anymore, or the way the wound in my side keeps scraping against the papers. I’ve tried to hold in my whimpers for fear that Ethan or Ash will hear, but now they come spilling out like the wraiths they are. Aeron slams one big hand over my mouth and the other kneads my hip until I stay in place for him; then he’s ruthless, tearing into me over and over, an arrogant smile claiming his shadow-soaked face as I tighten in the build-up to orgasm.

“My little lion can’t tell the difference between fear and desire anymore,” he gasps into the darkness. “What a selfish thing you are.”

I close my eyes. Music seeps under the door from far, far away.

“You’re afraid to come right now, huh? Afraid it will hurt.” He grunts then, a stuttered, warped choke of a sound. “Afraid it will make you so…much…worse than before.”