Page 21 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

I couldn’t sleep. The sheets kept getting tangled around my legs, and while the bed was arguably better than the floor, I couldn’t relax. Not with Gabriel’s offer keeping me awake.

My notebook remained open on the bedside table. Fictionally creating a villain and naming him after my ex should’ve been therapeutic, especially once I’d planned his suspicious and somewhat dramatic disappearance. But it hadn’t helped calm the maelstrom of emotions festering inside me.

Despair and panic. Anger and guilt.

I couldn’t get Lennon out of my head, the way he’d gurgled, blood splattering from his lips before he’d collapsed.

The crack of his head hitting the ground, and then the stillness of his body.

He hadn’t breathed. Hadn’t moved. Completely motionless while Sebastian stood vibrating with barely contained rage.

I was at the mercy of a man who killed three armed men with an ease that was horrifying. And I hadn’t done a single thing to stop him.

Throwing the sheets off, I silently padded to the door, finding it unlocked. I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t spend another minute staring at the ceiling. Artificial light streamed through the living room windows, London very much awake amongst the street below.

The kitchen to the side was silent, and there was no movement up on the mezzanine above. It seemed only I was up.

Keep testing me and find out.

Sebastian’s warning was just another cinch in the rope around my lungs, simply emphasising my lack of control and the cage I’d put myself in.

And yet deep down there was this relief that left me feeling weightless.

That I no longer had to barely survive and worry about what Dad would do next to put us in danger.

It wasn’t lost on me the dichotomy that I was both relieved and absolutely fucking terrified.

A groan broke through my trance, and I suddenly realised I was standing outside Sebastian’s bedroom.

Bloody hell.

There was a whispered curse, and I froze, worried that I’d been caught wandering around when I was supposed to be in my room. But I was alone in the hallway, the sound coming from the gap in Sebastian’s door.

Moving closer I peeked inside, finding him still in his armchair that I’d left over an hour ago, his head tipped back as he stretched his legs forward. His eyes were closed, the thick column of this throat moving as he let out another guttural groan.

There was movement at his hips, and I was drawn to his fist grasping his thick erection, stroking languorously from the base to the tip.

My mouth dried, and I sucked in a breath at the sheer size of him fully erect.

His erotic grunt seared through the air towards me, and I found my thighs pressing together, trying to find relief just from the sound.

Sebastian looked like he was a god, the embers from the dying flames throwing shadows across a body honed from the finest marble.

Even his cock was glorious, the surrounding skin just as scarred as the rest of him. But rather than make him grotesque, it made him almost brutally beautiful. Like a piece of broken art.

Sebastian’s hand moved faster, rougher, and my body heated just like it had in the shower, responding as if he was touching me. My skin tightened, seeming to stretch over my bones as my lungs began to match his shallowed breaths.

His thumb teased the pre-cum on the head of his cock, his legs parting as much as he could with his joggers pushed roughly down his hips. His abs tensed, and I couldn’t look away as thick ropes of cum covered his stomach and hand.

It was mesmerising. It was…

Sebastian’s eyes slipped open, and I quickly darted past, my heart racing as I waited a second to make sure he hadn’t heard me.

Shit.

There was a rustle of fabric, and then slight movement. I hurried further down the hallway, not realising just how big the penthouse was. I knew it was over two floors, but I’d only really seen a few rooms.

I heard shuffling behind me, but turning back I found myself still alone. There were no more sounds, no groans, or grunts. No rustling of fabrics or muffled footsteps.

Waiting another beat I continued to look, checking one of the doors until I realised it was locked.

Wanting to give it a little longer before I risked going anywhere near Sebastian’s room, I continued forward, walking down the hallway before stopping at a set of stairs leading up to the threshold of a studio.

The back was made entirely of windows, the city lights illuminating the canvases stacked against one another on the floor.

A painting of men clawing at their skin, the image shocking, but at the same time beautiful in its detail.

Another of a fallen angel, his wings ripped violently from his back.

A screaming woman fighting against demons.

Some of the canvases were broken, others slashed into ribbons to leave gaping holes in the violent images. There were dents in the walls, as well as the paint splattered floor. A well-worn punching bag hung on the left, beside mounts and bottles of paints that looked crushed and deformed.

Walking over I touched the picture displayed on the easel, taking a moment to push back the strips of the canvas, only to realise that it was a portrait of me.

Sebastian

My cock twitched, wanting to play with the pretty rabbit who stood in the doorway. I knew she was watching, her breath hitching with every stroke.

Fuck . I imagined it was her hand, her mouth strangling my cock. Keeping my eyes open only slightly, I made my movements rougher, harsher, just to see how she’d react. My thumb brushed over the slit on the head, and I groaned, letting the noise travel across the room to her flushed cheeks.

Her eyes burned, and the orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning. I grunted, feeling the hot pulses land on my stomach and hand. The force squeezed my eyes shut, and when I opened them again, she was gone .

The urge to follow her so she could see the results of what she’d started was almost overwhelming. Instead, I cleaned up my cum, wiping it away before pulling up my jogging bottoms.

When in the throes of such rage the noises in my head were manic, and normally not much could calm me down. But her voice had grounded me, calming the demons that were roaring in my ears.

Even now they were telling me to chase, so I stalked after her, knowing she was too curious to simply go back to her room.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled, reaching up to lean against the doorjamb to my studio.

She gasped, the sound caught short when she twisted on the spot to find me standing there. A flush coloured her face, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d just been caught, or because she was still affected from watching me.

I wonder what she’d say if I told her I was thinking about her the entire time.

How I imagined how soft her skin would feel beneath my hands, and how much I wanted to mark it.

How I planned to make her cry as I fucked her throat and then stretched her tight little cunt until she could take the entire length of me.

As I stalked closer, she stumbled back, her arm knocking the portrait in her panic. Arabella tried to catch it before it fell, but I was there, grabbing her wrist as it clattered to our feet, enjoying how her pulse spiked and her lips parted with a gasp.

Those fucking lips.

I’d spent hours painting them, only to not get them right. I scowled down at her, and a flash of fear settled in those large, brown eyes. It sent a jolt down my cock, and I swear the prick was already prepping for round two.

But not yet .

So I dipped my head forward, forcing her to lean back at an awkward angle. “Get out,” I whispered, and her entire body jerked as if she’d been electrocuted.

I released her wrist suddenly, and she barely caught herself from falling before she twisted past me, her hair a flurry as she ran. My blood heated at the possibility of a hunt, of catching her as she screamed and fought, and then finally surrendering as I sunk my cock into her willing body.

But I held back, violence still too close to the surface.

If I fucked her now, I could end up hurting her. And while hurting my partners made my cock hard, I didn’t want to break her just yet. She needed to beg first.

My cock twitched, but ignoring it I headed towards the canvas she’d been touching. Picking it up I placed it back on the easel, brushing my fingers over the frayed edges where I sliced it diagonally three times.

It had been a stunning piece, her face painted in various shades of grey and red, only for me to lose my temper and destroy it. Just like I destroyed everything that was breakable. Pulling out my phone, I placed it on a ledge, flicking up the app for the cameras and swiping until I found her room.

She was already there, laying across her bed in my fucking T-shirt. Her dark hair was sprayed out across the pale sheets, her eyes closed and her cheeks still that pretty pink colour.

Looking away I grabbed a pack of cigarettes, lifting one to my lips before lighting the tip. Throwing the portrait against the others, I grabbed a fresh canvas, the oil paints still scattered on the floor where I’d left them.

Normally after a fight I could sleep, but for some reason my demons were howling, the nightmares threatening to tear at my control .

So I’d paint. Until I was too exhausted to dream, or until morning light broke. Whichever came first.

Taking a drag, I released a billow of smoke before returning to my phone, only to pause. Arabella was still there, but her back was arched, her legs bent up on the mattress. Taking the cigarette out of my mouth, I balanced it beside my phone, leaning closer to get a better look.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, lips open in a silent cry. The hem of the T-shirt had risen, and her fingers were stroking between her thighs.

I immediately brought my phone closer to my canvas, the paintbrush moving in my hand while my eyes remained glued to the image. Her fingers rubbed, diving inside her pussy as she writhed against the sheets, the black T-shirt rising up until her other hand could brush across her breast.

Fuck .

My Arabella was a fucking temptress, and it made me want to mark her soul in the same darkness that stained mine.

Because until I grew bored, she was mine to use.

Mine to own.

Mine to fucking destroy.