Page 31

Rafferty

S he’s breaking right in front of me, shattering like the perfect porcelain doll she resembles. And I can’t fucking stand it. Not when I know who she was. What she was before.

I reach out again, ignoring her plea for me to leave her alone.

She flinches but doesn’t pull away this time, so I scoop her up into my arms, her body trembling and slick with Alex’s cruelty.

Her sobs have subsided into hiccups, her breath shuddering as she buries her face in my chest. I walk towards the door, my jaw clenched tight. I’m not leaving her like this, not again, not after yesterday.

The hallway is empty, thank fuck. I’m not sure what I’d say if I bumped into my father or mother right now.

I stick to the back stairs, the ones the servants use, avoiding the main areas of the house.

The last thing Scarlett needs is an audience to her pain.

The stairs creak under my weight, but the sound is swallowed by the thick silence of the mansion.

It’s like the very walls are holding their breath, waiting for the storm to pass.

I make it to my suite without encountering anyone. But as I get through the door, she becomes manic. She starts fighting, lashing out, landing slaps like I’m the monster here.

I grab her wrists, try to calm her but it has absolutely no effect whatsoever.

She raises her leg, landing a hard blow to my cock just like she did back in the woods, and I see red.

My body reacts as I drop my grip and in those few seconds, she takes off running, screaming bloody murder. I can’t have that. I can’t let Alexander know that she is here.

None of this fits the plan. None of this is meant to be happening.

I chase after her, easily overpowering her, and within seconds she’s on the floor beneath me.

“Want to play hard to get?” I taunt.

“Let me go, you bastard!” She screams into my face.

Only those words, that panic has the complete opposite effect on me. I know I should do it. I know I should let her go, play nice.

But I’ve wanted this woman for so fucking long. I’ve watched her for months, I’ve seen the way her tears drop from those long eyelashes, seen the way she sighs so wistfully when she’s in her studio, struggling to paint.

I’ve seen her .

The real her.

The real Scarlett before all of this shit, before this island, before everything.

And that’s who I want, that’s who my body craves in this moment.

Sure, she’s still covered in my brother, still marred by his disgusting treatment and yet my cock is aching, screaming at me.

I kick her legs apart while my hand slides down into her jeans.

To my surprise, she’s wet.

Is she aroused by this? Is she getting off on this? Has she wanted this moment as much as me, or am I fooling myself into believing that?

“Tell me, Scarlett.” I whisper into her ear. “Is this all for me, or for my brother?”

“Fuck, fuck you.” She gasps.

I let out a low laugh. That’s her usual response. Her only response. As if her brain is stuck on some broken track, and those are the only words she can settle on whenever she’s overwhelmed.

I run my fingers right between her labia, getting a nice feel of her cunt. She’s just as perfect as I imagined, just as perfect as all the glimpses suggested.

“So fucking wet.” I growl. “Do you like the idea of me fucking you while you’re still covered in my brother’s come?”

“No…”

She doesn’t even sound convinced. She sounds breathless. Torn. Like she enjoys being degraded.

Maybe that is it, she gets off on it, on the degradation. Maybe that’s exactly how she’s survived all the abuse so far. Because on some level it does turn her on.

“Little Bird,” I say, as I push two fingers inside her. She whimpers, trying to pull away but there’s no escaping this, no getting away from me. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, don’t act like you haven’t been desperate for me to touch you.”

“I haven’t.” She hisses.

I laugh harder then, hearing the obvious lie. Feeling the way her body is already begging for more.

In one quick movement, I roll her over, forcing her to face me.

“You’re practically dripping.” I state. “Is it the thought of being used by me that’s got you all riled up?”

“I don’t want you.” She gasps out.

It’s a lie. I know it is. I can see the way her pupils are blown, I can feel the way her cunt is clinging to me.

She wants this. She wants me.

I lean down, claiming her mouth as I work her cunt to perfection.

She fights at first. She pretends to push me away, to bite my tongue as I work my way around her mouth, but that only turns me on more, turns her on more.

With my right hand, I pin her arms above her head and with my left, I curl so deep inside her that she loses what little grasp she has on reality. She becomes rabid, as insane as I am.

Christ, if Alexander walks in on us now…

That idea shouldn’t amuse me as much as it does.

On a certain level I’d love that, love for him to see how I use his pretty little wife.

How much she delights in my touch, not his.

I’d have her weeping right here, crying my name while he stood there too stupefied to do a thing to stop it.

She starts rocking her hips, riding my fingers, urging me on like she’s as possessed by this notion as me.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” I taunt, grabbing her face. “You’d like your husband to witness what a slut you are?”

Her eyes widen. Clearly she doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m too lost in this moment, this fantasy.

“If he were here, I’d have you spread out, your legs wide and your cunt dripping all over my hands.” I state. “I’d have my cock buried deep in your arse, and you’d be moaning, begging for more, wouldn’t you, Scarlett?”

She murmurs something unintelligible, and I take the opportunity to press right on that sweet spot inside her, admiring how she performs. How she writhes. How her eyes roll back in her head.

Christ, she really is a work of art.

I know I could eek this out, keep her here on edge and desperate for hours.

But it’s too much of a risk.

For all my love of the idea of my brother finding us like this, it is not the plan.

And so I slide my fingers out, enjoying the way she physically deflates. The way her body slumps like I’ve let her down and she’s disappointed now.

Don’t worry, Little Bird, I’m not letting you go just yet. We’re just having a change of scenery. I’m just taking you somewhere I can devour you in peace.

I don’t give her a chance to move, to get to her feet. I scoop her up, not being nearly as gentle as I was back in the breakfast room as I toss her over my shoulder.

Once we’re safely back in my wing, I put her down, moving to secure the door so this time she won’t be able to escape so easily.

The space is stark, minimalistic, unlike the rest of the house. It’s my sanctuary, the one place I can escape the fucking madness of this family.

When I turn around, she’s standing exactly where I left her.

I can see the fear there, the confusion.

To say it pisses me off is an understatement, but I remind myself that this isn’t her fault, at least not ‘Present Scarlett’.

No, the girl that set this all in motion is so far gone, so long forgotten, I doubt the girl before me would even recognise her.

But that doesn’t help the emotion, the anger. The fact this entire situation is as fucking out of control as it is.

She’s filthy still so I grab her hand, pulling her into the bathroom.

I turn the taps of the sink on, and that seems to bring her out of her head a little.

“What, what are you doing?” she whispers, her voice raw, her eyes darting between me and the running water like I might just drown her.

“You need to get clean,” I say, testing the temperature. Satisfied, I turn back to her.

She’s got her arms wrapped around herself like armour.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not him, Scarlett. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears and accusations. “Aren’t you?” She snarls back suddenly full of rage. “You chased me through the woods. You... you forced me to...” she trails off, her cheeks flushing with humiliation and anger.

I smirk, not because I find her pain amusing, but because her fire is a fucking relief after the hollow shell she was just minutes ago.

“You wanted a hero, didn’t you?” I say, echoing her words from that day as I box her in. “I never claimed to be one, Little Bird, but you were happy enough to get on your knees for me all the same.”

That does it. Her temper snaps and she lunges, her hand cracking across my face. I take the hit, absorbing the sting, knowing I deserve it and loving it all the same.

“This might all be a game to you and your fucked-up family, but this is my life you’re fucking with,” she screams, her voice echoing off the porcelain tiles. “Alex is going to kill me. He’s going to fucking kill me, and you’re doing nothing to save me.”

I shake my head, capturing her wrists as she goes to hit me again. “You don’t understand, Scarlett. But you will. I promise you will.”

She struggles against my grip, her breath coming in angry little pants. “Understand what? That you’re all fucking psychopaths?”

“Trust me,” I say, holding her gaze, willing her to see the sincerity in my eyes.

She laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “Trust you? Trust the man that just stood there and watched me being abused? I can’t trust any of you. You’re all the same. You’re all…”

I cut her off with a kiss. It’s not rough, though it is demanding.

Christ, she’s so kissable. Especially when she’s angry.

She freezes, her body rigid against mine. Then, slowly, she melts, her lips parting before she seems to come to her senses and she pulls back, slapping me once more.

“How fucking dare you.” She spits. “Is that what I am to you, to all of you, just a whore that you can use, abuse and pass around?”