Page 45 of Wild Devil

“I don’t need sweetness right now.” Her eyes well up, but they’re sterner than ever as she holds her head high like the queen she is. “I don’t want you to be thoughtful and kind and patient. I just…”

“Say it.” I press her palm to my cheek and force her to meet my gaze. “Tell me what you need, and it’s yours. Anything.”

Leaning back against the wall, she sighs and closes her eyes. Her fingers stroke the side of my jawline, as if she is trying to memorize me just as I did her minutes ago. With her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, she suddenly stops. I am willing to risk my fucking soul for her when she opens her eyes again.

Instead, she requests something far more dangerous. “I want you to fuck me,” she says. “Hard. I don’t want to feel anything but you.”

I lose all sense of reason as my cock battles the last shred of common sense in my brain. She’s traumatized and battered. A good, boyfriend, lover, whatever-we-are, would tuck her into bed with some warm milk or some shit. Tell her to wait until the morning. Be the hero.

But I know her. I know that she wouldn’t ask this of me lightly, not unless…

She needed it badly enough to beg.

Unless she needed me.

And I’ll be damned if I’ll deny her any damn thing.

No matter what.

SIXTEEN

FREY

I’m adrift in my own sea of self-pity, too damn wrapped up in myself to care about anything else. Like Catherine, who may have given her life for mine. As well as Colton, who died a terrible death, and the women who just survived a far worse ordeal than mine.

I should especially care about Daze, who is practically on his knees out of concern for my well-being. But at the moment, I just feel…

Blank. Empty.

I wouldn’t care if the entire world was on fire right now. I feel like a switch has been flipped inside me, numbing me to everything except helpless rage. Defeating my father is my responsibility. It was my responsibility to stop Colton sooner rather than later so that no one else had to suffer.

Maybe Daze is right, after all. In retrospect, I should have let the cards fall where they may and unleashed him on them all. This is all my fault.

“Look at me—” His voice cuts through the maddening chaos in my mind like a knife, but the clarity that follows is disorienting, like being struck over the head. It is so easy for him to make the insane seem plausible. One look from him makes me feel powerful and in control. He has me in the palm of his hand, and it should be the other way around. I should be the strong, unyielding one.

He has enough on his plate to worry about. Like Sammy, and his sister, and keeping them safe from my father’s machinations.

“I don’t want to be insensitive,” he says, drawing out the word as if he’s not used to using it. Especially not in a situation like this, with us both half-naked. “So, if you need more time, just tell me?—”

“I told you what I want.” My voice takes on a needy, aching quality that makes me shiver. When he doesn’t move, I take his hand and press it to my belly. The heat I feel is a welcome distraction, but it stings like a bitter punishment. This isn’t about pleasure.

I want him to be angry with me. I want him to convey that rage in a way that only he can. I want him to use me.

And maybe then I’ll be able to feel again.

He lurches upright, his head lowered, gaze heavy-lidded. He pulls his hand out of my grasp, only to capture my waist with both. One easy shift of his body, and he has me pressed against the wall with barely any space between us.

“You want it?” His mouth grazes my ear, his voice guttural. “I didn’t hear you clearly enough the first time. Say it again.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He groans, flattening his hands against the wall near my head. I expect him to strip his clothes, and I start to help him, but he captures my wrist.

“You’re missing something,” he scolds, pressing his lips to my neck. “There was one other part you said. What was it?”

Despite everything, my lips part in a hollow imitation of a smile. “Hard. I don’t want to feel anything but you.”

Fabric tears as he rips the remaining shreds of my dress away. A moan travels up my throat, escaping in a gasp as he slides a finger along my inner thigh. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling, but it’s just a mere taste of the oblivion I know he can give me.

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