Page 113 of Darling Psycho

Was it happiness?

Did bliss feel this warm?

Or was it just sexual exhaustion?

Whatever it was, he didn’t delve in too deep because he had a sexy little thing in his arms, and he flipped her around to go back to chest, her butt grinding into him until he stilled her with a rough hand on her hip. She whimpered and bumped him again like she wanted more of his hands digging into her hip bones.

His mouth flooded with moisture.

When she settled with a tired yawn, Lawless let his hand travel down, and he cupped her sex provocatively.Mine. His hand was the next best thing to sleeping buried inside her, soon enough for that. She’d forget what it was like not to have his dick filling her wall-to-wall.

And wouldn’t their monsters be so fucking happy about that?

If someone else had the thoughts about her he had, he’d butcher them in cold blood and enjoy every second of each bone he snapped.

He was going to ruin her.

Lawless lay in the dark, holding an angel in his arms, not sure if sleep would take him, but he was too wired to close his eyes yet. It was the most bizarre moment of his life.

Putting his mouth to the shell of her ear, he kissed her once and noticed it was after midnight.

“Happy birthday, Angela.”

He thought she was asleep until she chuckled. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Best birthday ever. Thanks, grumpy.”

Lawless should be the one giving her gratitude.

For the pleasure of her body.

Opening her delicate heart.

And bringing him to life.

Deviants like him rarely got this piece of pure goodness. That’s not how life worked, and until she’d crashed into his life, he didn’t know there was anything better for him other than the hedonistic existence he lived in.

Would he change? Could he change?

Not even slightly.

But would he bring an innocent into his darkness?

If it were Angela, then absolutely.

He’d wanted her, he’d taken her.

Now it was the portion of his plan where he kept her forever.

TWENTY-SIX

“In the depths of the forest is where the love can be heard.” - Lawless

People might question why Angela was standing on the edge of the woods after the most epic night of her life and not still in bed recovering from all the fantastic sex.

She’d been doing this for years every June, the day of the incident, and then the day of her actual birthday months later.

The guilt, as always, caved in her chest. Each breath was agony.

If not for Angela begging, pleading, and being a massive pest to her parents years ago, her life now would be so different. They’d be alive and not buried somewhere unknown. The thought of them in unmarked graves deep in the forest she was staring at always made her feel sick to her stomach.

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