Page 26 of It Shouldn't Be You
Using my gun to push aside the dirty piece of fabric, I join him behind it, only to freeze at the sight before me. In the dirty, stained bath is a body. A man lies there in a pool of hisown blood, eyes glazed over. Clearly, someone lost the struggle upstairs. Going by the lack of smell and decomposition, he can’t have been here long. Which makes me wonder who beat us to it.
Sharing a look, we head upstairs to check the rest of this house of horrors over, making quick work of clearing the upstairs and verifying we are here alone. I tuck my gun back into my waistband before looking through the mess for anything of use: papers, phones, computers, anything we can use to get the answers the dead body is hiding.
"Here Logan, look at this," Owen calls me over. In his hand is a framed photo. In it is a younger version of the man in the tub next to none other than my mum. I’d recognise her anywhere, and the terrified look on her face is one I remember all too well. Around her neck is a dog collar with a leash that the man has clenched tightly in his fist. Swallowing down my bile, I look around where Owen found the photo and stumble across a journal. Flipping through it does nothing to calm my anger or help with the bile that’s still fighting its way up my throat.
"Look at this shit," I say as I toss it to Owen. Diary entries from her abductor—how stupid can you be? Who in their right mind keeps a journal detailing their interactions with their captive?
"He mentions her begging for her sister. Did you know she had a sister?" Owen asks, and I snatch the journal out of his hands to read the words for myself. Scanning the scribbled words, I frown. This is news to me. I have an aunt? And Peter never mentioned it?
"This shit makes no sense." I have more questions than when we got here, and with the piece of shit dead in the basement, I’m once again at a dead end. With frustration burning in my veins, we gather up anything that could be useful, including the journal, before heading back to our women.
Chapter 20
When Logan asked if I wanted to accompany him to Belfast for the weekend, I jumped at the opportunity. Not only because sharing a hotel room might be the push we need, but I'm also in desperate need of a distraction from my impending results. Doomscrolling and jumping every time my phone lights up with a notification is far from helpful.
As I unpack, the door opens. The thought of spending some much-needed quality time together brings a smile to my face as I turn to greet Logan, but it fades when I see the horror-struck look on his face. He looks as if he's seen a ghost—and not the 'Casper the friendly ghost' type.
"Here, come sit down." I guide him to sit on the edge of the bed and take a seat behind him. Humming a lullaby like my mum used to sing to me as a child, I run my hands through his hair and start braiding it, offering him silent support without pressing him to talk. If he wants to share what has affected him so deeply, he will when he's ready. For now, I offer him my silent support for as long as he needs me.
It could be minutes or hours later when he eventually turns around and looks at me with wonder and awe, as if truly seeing me for the first time. I gently cup his jaw with one hand and try to smooth out his frown lines with the other.
"There’s my Viking," I murmur with a soft smile and lean forward to kiss his cheek. At the last second, he turns his head to capture my mouth with his. With a moan, I bury my hands in his hair to hold him to me. He consumes me utterly, as if it’s his sole mission in life to merge us into one being. And I go willingly, kissing him back with everything I have. When he encourages me to lie down so he can crawl between my legs, I welcome him into the cradle of my thighs.
“You’re so fucking perfect. Such a perfect princess for me, what did I do to deserve you?” he breathes as he kisses my jaw, my neck, across my heaving chest, before locking eyes with me. At my nod, he pushes my top up and my bra down, freeing my breasts to his hungry gaze and mouth.
With a muttered curse, he takes first one and then the other into his mouth, nipping them with his teeth before moving lower. As he presses hot, open-mouth kisses along my stomach, it’s all I can do not to beg him to go lower.
To keep going and finish what he’s started.
If he stops now, I think I might genuinely cry.
Slipping my leggings and underwear off, he settles between my thighs. Locking eyes with me, he begins kissing my inner thigh and then with a smirk says, “Do you want my mouth, Princess? Are you a needy little slut for me, hmm?”
With a bitten whimper, I thrust my hips up, my wet pussy clenching on emptiness as I beg him, “Please Logan, I need you.”
“Good girls use their words to ask for what they want, and only good girls get rewards. Are you going to be my good girl? Orare you a brat?” With a quirk of his eyebrow, he bites my thigh before delivering a swift slap to the other.
Gasping at the pleasure-pain sensation coursing through my body, I lose all nerves as I start rambling, “Please, lick my clit. Bite it. Do whatever you want, just please make me come. I need it so badly. I need you. Make it hurt, please.”
With a growl, he dives in, licking my clit just like I asked, and pinching my nipple at the same time. Self-inflicted pleasure pales in comparison. I’m crying, begging without a care in the world. It’s all I can do not to scream with how good he’s making me feel, and then he adds first one, then two fingers, and my toes curl as my back arches off the bed.
“That’s my good fucking girl, come all over my hand. Show me how much my cunt needs me. And then I’m going to come all over this pretty cunt to show you just how mad you drive me.” The dirtiness of the visual he’s painted sends me flying over the edge, and with a shout, I twist and pant as I come all over his hands and tongue. It’s like no other feeling I’ve ever felt before, and if the noises he’s making are any indication, he approves—big time.
“Are you ready to see my cock, Princess? To see what you do to me?” At my frantic nods, he undoes his button and zipper to free himself. If I thought the glimpse I got of him in the shower did him justice, I was sorely mistaken. Thick, veiny, hard as nails with a head shiny with pre-cum. And that magic cross that I cannot wait to feel inside me.
Reaching out for him, I drag him down by his neck to kiss him as he works his cock between us with frantic movements. All of a sudden, he freezes for a split second, before with a groan, he’s coming against my pussy in hot ropes. As he rests his head against my chest for a moment, and I card my fingers through his hair, I think I could get used to this.
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Chapter 21
“You know, if you’re trying to impress me, you don’t need to. I’d be just as happy going to a pizza chain restaurant.” Sitting across from me in a black dress that accentuates her cleavage in the most delicious way, Abigail is my every dream come to fruition.
It’s not just that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or even the fact that she knows her worth and how to demand that be respected.
It’s the way she’s been so steadfast supporting me from the moment we got married.
It’s the way she truly is the lightness to my darkness.
