Page 43 of His Trick

I was falling. His disappointed face hovered over me. The last thing I could see before it all went black.

“You are not the son I thought you were. How could you betray me, Shiloh? I am the only one who would have ever accepted you for who you are.”

“Shiloh?”Xanthy whispered in the dark, reaching for me and knocking me from my memories.

I didn’t answer, my skin clammy and my mind racing. I snuggled into the bed, letting my mouth find hers. The kiss was desperate and punishing. Like I needed to bury everything I couldn’t shake inside her warmth. She gasped into my mouth, then softened, her hands sliding up my shoulders.

“You’re wet,” she giggled softly. “What were you?—”

“So are you,” I growled, climbing on top of her. My voice sounded foreign to me, scraped raw like that fucking shed. “Don’t talk, Xanthy.”

She didn’t argue.

She never did.

That’s why I came to her. She let me take what I needed. Always. She smothered the darkness and let me live in peace with her light.

Her body opened for me, trusting and welcoming. I got her ready, using my fingers and curling them just right. She deserved it. She took my brutality tonight when I had no softness to give. I needed to remind her I was hers.

I was.

I was not anyone else’s.

I was not his.

“Oh fuck, Shiloh, my parents are only a few rooms away. I can’t do this, oh my god. Mmm.”

I slipped in another finger, using my thumb to rub circles on her pulsing clit. “Guess they’re about to find out you’re not a good girl in the bedroom, Baby.”

She moaned, convulsing on my fingers, her squirt spilling onto the bedspread, and coating my hand. I couldn’t help but smile. It seemed that being a rebel seemed to turn her on. She was anything but a wild child.

That was her fucking brother, not Xanthy.

“Are you ready for my cock, Angel?” I licked her juices off my fingers and shoved them into her open mouth. She nodded, and I didn’t wait. I slid inside effortlessly, calm and easy. There was no bucking, no challenge from her. For a moment, I found what I was searching for—the silence. The peaceful relief and warmth.

But then it popped, like a bubble bursting in my space.

Her moans broke against my ear, soft and perfect, but it didn’t sound like her anymore. It was warped, dragging me somewhere I was desperate not to visit.

It sounded likehim.

Carrington Harding.

I froze mid-thrust, my heart feeling like it was stuttering to a shaky halt. My eyes snapped open. It was Xanthy beneath me. Her small, delicate hands were on my back, not thick gloved ones. It was her soft lips that were parted, not the swollen looped piercings of his. Her eyes were shining, but behind her beautiful face, behind her whimpering moans…

He was there.

No. No, not this. Not him.

“Shiloh,” she whispered again, sweet and pleading, her legs wrapping around my back and pulling my cock deeper inside her.

My body jolted, the words clawing at me. It was her voice, but my brain had twisted it, filled it in with his tone, his fucking growl. An echo in my mind from tonight when he had spoken those same syllables.

I shook my head, trying to shove the thoughts down. “You aren’t in control,” I muttered. My hips slammed harder, chasing reality, and damning the past. “I fucking own this cunt, you hear me? Let me hear you say it. Who owns this dripping pussy, Alexandra?”

She gasped, writhing with the pulls of her orgasms. “Yes, Baby. Oh, fuck yes. You. Always you. I belong to you, Shiloh Anderson.”

My cock throbbed in her cunt at her admission of ownership.