Page 38 of Once A Villain

Pressing my thumb against her clit, I curl my fingers.

“I’ll ask you one more fucking time. Who’s in control? Who owns you?”

“You...you...”

“You are going to come.”

“No. I can’t...”

“Come, Rory.”

Her body is mine. Her mind is mine. She’s mine.

I know the pace and pressure she needs. I’ve made her come before, and I will make her do it again.

Leaning into her, I crash my lips against hers. I touch her clit just right, and she comes undone, her body trembling as her orgasm rips through her. I swallow her cries, her moans, her pleas, devouring her.

I support her weight as she rides out the waves of pleasure. Her eyes full of confusion, fear, and anger.

“You’re a bastard,” she spits weakly. I roughly shove my finger deep, and she winces.

Leaning near her ear, I whisper, “You just came on my hand, and only three days ago, I threw you in a fucking basement. If I didn’t know better, little siren, I’d think you like it when I hurt you.”

A sinister grin spreads across my face, and she looks mortified.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You say that a lot, dirty girl.” I slowly pull my fingers out. “I’m not falling for your shit, Rory. And if you ever try to manipulate me like that again, you’ll regret it.” She looks stunned, her breathing erratic. “Good girls get fucked. Bad girls get fucked and punished.” I lick my fingers, tasting her, savoring her.

She’s speechless, and the sight brings me immense satisfaction.

“Your denial tastes delicious.” I grin.

“You’re a piece of shit, Axe.” She shoves past me and storms out of the bathroom, her heels clicking angrily against the tiled floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hiss as I rush out of the restroom, tears pricking at my eyes, threatening to spill over.

I can’t believe that just happened. He made me come, and I hated every second of it. The way his fingers expertly teased me, coaxing me to orgasm against my will, makes me sick.

I can’t let myself think about it. Not here. Not now. I need to get away from him. Desperately scanning the room, I spot a side door and bolt toward it, bursting into the cool evening air. Leaning against the rough brick wall, I struggle to steady my breathing. His touch lingers on my skin.

I hated it...right?

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. He’s an arrogant, smug, self-centered, manipulative asshole. The memory of his slap, the basement, the collar—it all rushes back, sending a jolt of anger through me.

Seeing Spence is all it takes for the tears to start flowing as he calls out.

“Jesus, Rory, are you okay? What happened?” I throw my arms around him, sobbing. I can’t tell him. The humiliation would kill me.

So, I cry instead.

“What’s wrong, Rory?”

“Nothing,” I say, my voice breaking. “Just a shitty night.”

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, his voice laced with anger. I just give him a look, and he knows the answer.

“Spencer…” I choke out.

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