Page 41 of Monster's Edge

I want to completely come apart and I want there to be no way for anyone to stop me.

There’s a certain freedom that comes when I let myself go with Ian. It’s like nothing else matters in this moment. The only thing that matters is touching him, kissing him, being with him. He’s not a good person. He’s not the kind of person I would be proud to end up with. He’s strong, though. He’s powerful. He knows exactly what I need to get off.

“Such a good little whore,” he murmurs against my mouth. I groan, wiggling my hips, grinding them hard against his fingers. I’m so damn close to coming that I feel like I’m going to explode. That’s good. It’s what I want. He got his earlier, but I didn’t. I wasn’tgiventhe chance to come, so I’m going to take it now.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe I am a good little whore.

He’s relentless as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me. He’s got two, maybe three inside of me. His thumb presses against my clit as he finger-fucks me faster and faster.

“Come for me, you little slut,” he hisses, and then I do. It’s like my body knows what this command means and it’s like I can’t resist what he wants. I fall apart in that moment. It’s like my heart is floating and my body is pulsing with absolute pleasure. Ian kisses me deeply as I come, forcing me to be silent as the orgasm rolls over me.

Then he stands up and takes a step back from me. He looks down at me, smirking. I can only imagine what I look like in this moment. I’m basically sprawled out on the bench: legs apart, arms at my sides. I wiggle, sitting up straight, and reach for my dress to tug it down. Embarrassment washes over me as I realize what I’ve done. I’ve taken things a little bit too far, I think. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let him touch me.

I wanted it, though.

And I started it.

When I look up again, Ian is gone. That’s good. I didn’t even hear him leave, but I’m glad he’s not here to look at me in this moment or to witness my humiliation. I realize that letting him touch me is basically sleeping with the enemy in the worst possible way.

My dad is going to have a total bitch fit if he finds out that Ian fingered me at his own place. Their relationship is already weird enough without throwing me into the mix. Then again, I know that something is going to go down between all of us.

Maybe Ian has some sort of hold over my father.

Is that why my father didn’t want me to give him too much attention? My dad keeps throwing these lavish parties and he keeps giving everyone around him food and drinks and attention, but I’m not dumb. I know these things can’t last forever. If my father’s businesses are doing as well as he says they are, then why did he bring Ian in as a partner?

That’s something that’s been bugging me just a little bit. Historically, my father has been the head of our family. He’s been the guy who keeps his nephews in line. Ever since my dad’s older brother died, he’s been the uncle in charge.

Is that changing?

I haven’t noticed him being less busy, but bringing in Ian – someone who isn’t even one of our relatives – seems strange to me. As I make my way down the hall and head back to the party, I can’t help but wonder what I’m missing. It wasn’t long after my father announced that Ian would be joining his team as a business partner that Ian stole me away. Now Ian seems intent on using me as much as possible, and I can’t say that I mind.

I’m just wondering what my dad is hiding and whether it’s going to affect me.

*

HOURS LATER, WHEN THElast guest has gone home and the employees have finished cleaning up the party room, I’m sitting on grand staircase in the center hall. It’s the one that overlooks the front door. It’s the one where I saw my dad kill that man all of those years ago.

He’s not a good man.

That much is for certain.

He’s not a kind man or a gentle man or anything that is to be revered or cherished. My dad’s basically a monster. I know this. We all know this.

Still, nobody does anything about it.

Georgetta is quiet when she approaches from behind. I can tell her footsteps from the other members of the household because she’s the only other woman who works here now. Her steps are light and soft while the guys walk in ways that are quick, sharp, and fast. Every man in this house seems to be in a hurry. Not Georgetta.

She sits down beside me, slowly moving. She’s not too much older than me. I haven’t asked her, but I think she’s only about fifteen years older than me. Time has been kind to her, too. If someone were to see us side-by-side, they might think the two of us were sisters. Her dark hair is still long, and while she usually wears it pulled back in a tight bun, it’s down tonight. I turn and look at her.

“You’re up late.”

She’s not. Not for her, anyway. Georgetta is always the last one in the house to go to sleep and the first one to wake up. We used to have a different housekeeper, but she left. Once I was too old for a nanny, Georgetta was offered that position and she took it. Now she’s basically the woman who runs everything in the house. She keeps the party guests happy, makes sure the caterers are doing their jobs, and keeps my dad from accidentally starving to death.

“It’s not so late, love.”

She doesn’t say anything else for a long time. The two of us just sit there, staring at the front door. A door holds so many different things, and this one is no exception. It’s this door that my mother walked through when she brought me home from the hospital. It’s this door that the EMTs carried her body out of. This door is the one that lets me find freedom each morning. It’s this one that keeps me locked up at night.

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