Page 47 of Under the Bed

One shake of his head while he dry-humps me. He’s brutal and his jeans graze my pussy in a painful way. A commanding way.

“I thought I was clear before.” He grunts, rolling my nipple between his fingers. When I moan for him, he groans again and thrusts harder into me. “This is what I want. I want to hurt you. Want to take from you. Your pussy. Your moans. Your orgasms. Your cries of pain. This is who I am. I’ve waited for you for years. Watched you grow up from the sidelines. Jerked off to your pictures.”

“Kaleb.” It’s a half-cry, half-question.

“Yes, of course I fucking I lied. Of course I missed you. And I’ll do whatever the fuck I please with you. You won’t have a say about it. You’re going to stay alive for every second of it.”

This is too much. Knowing he sent people to stalk me. That he’s been planning this. I can’t process anything anymore while he invades me like this. While he won’t listen to me when I tell him to stop.

I’m done. I give up, letting myself justfeel. I let myself want him without thinking about right and wrong or the consequences of his revenge.

His hate is as addictive as the other side of him. The one from our past.

“You’ve been mine from the second I saw you.” His thrusts are faster, pinning me to the floor. I can’t stop opening my legs for him, can’t stop the second orgasm from building inside me. As scared as I am. Because he moans, and holy fuck, it’s beautiful. He moans like a man. Like a beast. “Mine to protect. Mine tolove. Now…”

His cock thickens in his jeans, and it’s then that he tears off his mask.

You can bury a lot of painful shit in the back of your head.

The sting of a slap. The burning of a belt. The humiliation of being assaulted. The helplessness of being ripped from your home.

But these eyes. This vacant yet dark look. The gold swirling inside them.

I could never ever forget that.

He’s been the star of too many dreams. So many nightmares.

“Kaleb.” I push my arms up, my hands longing to touch him.

He shoves them down, lips twisting into a snarl. “Now you’re mine to ruin.”

This orgasm is unlike any other. The world is a sphere of white light, heat, and passion. Hate for missing out on him. Fear of what he’ll do next.

I’m all of it and none of it at once. Tears streak my cheeks. My temples.

“Fuck. Yes, Shiloh. Fuck, I’m coming.” His cock jerks in his jeans and his lips are on mine. Bruising me. Pushing mine open so his teeth have access to my bottom lip, wounding theflesh. Drawing blood. “Keep crying for me, baby. Let me see this. How beautiful you are when I destroy you.”

“Why?” I ask between one savage kiss and the other. He comes and curses, and I feel warmth and wetness through his jeans. “Why would you want this?”

“Why.” He’s looming over me, his breaths slowing. “I’m chaos and destruction. I’m wrath and your own personal hell. And—I’ll repeat it until you realize I mean it—this is what I want. You. You could tell the cops. You could have them lock me up again. Doesn’t matter. I’ll keep coming back. I’ll keep taking what’s mine, and that’s you. It’s always been you.”

Fear and want and affection suffocate me.

He knows I may never reciprocate his feelings.

He doesn’t care.

About anything.

I do.

Whatever we did here is something two stepsiblings should never do. Something that should never happen between a future psychologist and a serial killer.

Between a woman and the man who hates her. Who punishes her simply because he wants to.

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Yes.” He licks my tears from the corner of my eye and down to my ear, where he stays. “Better get used to me, little sister.”

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