Page 88 of The Psychopaths

“That’s it,” I encourage, establishing a rhythm of pleasure-pain that has her trembling on the edge. “No more lying. No more pretending. Just honest need.”

Her body quivers across my lap, caught in the merciless rhythm I’ve established. Each smack of my hand against her ass is immediately followed by the curl of my fingers inside her, pain and pleasure intertwined until she can no longer distinguish between them.

“Please,” she gasps, the word muffled against the bedding.

“Please what?” I deliver another firm strike, watching the pink handprint bloom on her perfect skin. “Use your words, Lilian. Tell me exactly what you’re begging for.”

Her hips push back against my hand shamelessly now, all pretense of reluctance gone. “Please let me come. I need—I can’t?—”

“Not yet.” I slow my fingers, keeping her on the edge. “First, admit why you went downstairs.”

She whimpers as I withdraw almost completely, leaving just the tips of my fingers teasing her entrance. “I wanted to see him.”

“And?”

“And I... I wanted to help him.”

“Not good enough.” Another sharp smack makes her cry out. “The truth, Lilian. All of it.”

Her body trembles, hovering on the precipice of release but unable to fall. “I wanted to see if I still felt the same about him,”she finally confesses, voice breaking. “After being with you. After feeling...this.”

The admission sends heat surging through my blood. “And do you? Feel the same?”

“No.” The word sounds torn from her throat. “It’s different now. Everything’s different.”

I reward her honesty by pressing my fingers deep again, thumb circling her clit with precise pressure. “What else?”

“I won’t—” Her breath catches as I find that perfect spot inside her. “I won’t disobey you again. I promise.”

“You will,” I correct her, delivering one final smack to her tender flesh. “But next time, you’ll accept your punishment more gracefully, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she sobs, beyond pride now. “Anything. Please, Arson. Please let me come.”

The sound of my name on her lips, broken and desperate, nearly undoes me. This is what I wanted—not the passive sacrifice she offered earlier, but this raw, honest need.

“Come for me,” I command, fingers working relentlessly inside her, palm pressing against her sensitized skin. “Show me how much you need this.”

She shatters instantly, body convulsing around my fingers as a broken cry tears from her throat. I work her through it, prolonging each wave until she’s gasping for breath, limbs trembling with aftershocks. Only when she goes limp across my lap do I gently withdraw my fingers, savoring her whimper at the loss.

With careful hands, I rearrange her on the bed, watching her face as she slowly returns to herself. Her eyes, when they finally open, hold something new—wonder mixed with confusion, desire tangled with fear.

“That,” I tell her softly, brushing damp hair from her flushed face, “is the difference between enduring and begging. Remember it.”

She nods, unable to form words yet. I’ve finally found a way to silence that clever Hayes mind—to make her feel instead of think.

“Rest,” I murmur, pulling a blanket over her naked form. “Tomorrow, we’ll discuss exactly what your stepbrother’s freedom is going to cost you.”

As I watch her drift into exhausted sleep, I wonder which of us is truly being captured. And why I need her to admit it’s me she wants more than him.

Aries

Six steps forward, six steps back. The pacing doesn’t help, but it’s all I can do to stop myself from screaming. The image of Lilian in my brother’s arms, his hands on her, her body responding—it burns behind my eyelids every time I blink.

I stop my pacing, head tilting to listen for the familiar sounds of Arson moving around upstairs. Music playing faintly. Water running through pipes. The creaking of floorboards that tells me he’s in his bedroom.

With her.

My stomach clenches.

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