Page 62 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

FINN

H er first fuck up. Lying to my damn face.

That was a perfect setup for her to come clean, at least to some of her wrongdoings. I admitted who I am.

But, if I’m going to suck the truth out of her and she wants pleasure… Maybe I can start to coax it out of her.

I have to think fast and calculate my next move.

Because the next trial I would have done is pointless.

She’s already branded for me, on her ass. But I have four other rooms to play with. And a new toy I’ve never gotten to use.

“Stand,” I command.

And she does, her eyes never leaving mine. Her blind trust in me is a problem here.

Her failure to see how serious this is.

I unstrap her collar, and the moment I take her hand in mine, electricity shoots up my arm, making me tense.

“Are we done already?” she asks.

“No, love. This is just the beginning.”

Fuck, I need to stop calling her that. But I can’t stop. It’s instinct now. No matter what, she’s woven her way into my fucking heart.

The brain scan proves that.

This was real for me and I cannot change that.

I lead her out of Room One and down to Room Five.

“You said this is part of your house? How big is the house?”

I chuckle.

“Rich boy size.”

She smiles, and it stabs me through the heart. I want to believe this is all some fuck up, that she hasn’t done what I believe her to.

And Drago’s words run through my mind, she might surprise me. Maybe there is another alternative; there always seems to be in my world.

Putting the code in the door, I open it up and guide her through.

There it is. A wooden structure made to look like a real guillotine. Of course, it isn’t fully functional. It’s the threat, the illusion that it’s real, that sparks the fear.

“What the hell is this?” she asks.

“Never read a history book before, Stephanie?” I ask, shutting the door behind us.

She lets out an annoyed huff.

“Shut up. I don’t want my head chopped off. Do you have the Henry VIII fantasy or something? Chopping your wife's head off?”

The sass in her voice makes my cock twitch.

I turn to her, grabbing her throat and pushing her against the wall, my restraint lifting for a second.

“I told you, I’ll only be married once. That’s the difference here. I only wanted you.”

Her mouth parts and I lean in.

No matter how angry I am with her, I still want her. Fucking crave her. An addiction I can’t be without.

But then I remember that she is my enemy right now. Until proven otherwise. So I release her.

“Are you ready for the rules?” I ask.

“Go ahead.”

Her confidence is equally infuriating as it is a turn on.

“Three minutes. During that time, the blade will move up the guillotine and into position. You have three minutes to prove to me you’re worthy of an orgasm. If you pass by answering my questions, you’ll come and the guillotine will stay at the top.”

She swallows against my palm.

“And remember, I know you well enough to detect a lie.”

I glance down at the slight shake in her hand; the nerves from her are exactly what I need.

“T-that thing doesn’t actually fall though, right?”

There is no slot for the blade to go through; it doesn’t fall with enough power to slice through the solid wood that is simply covering a metal block. She is safe. But she doesn’t need to know that.

“Don’t let it fall, love.”

She blinks at me. Confusion on her pretty face. She’s trying to get a read on me. I only allow her to see what I want her to.

I’ve spent what feels like my entire life mastering this art. Be who you need to be. Show them only what they need to see.

And it’s worked well, up until Stephanie.

And I want her to trust me. I know she doesn’t want to fail.

“Do you want to play the game?” I ask, dipping my voice lower.

I trail my hands along her sides, gripping her hips.

She pushes her hand under her panties, and a little breathy moan escapes her; then, as she withdraws, she presses two fingers against my lips.

I suck them clean, fuck. I shouldn’t be doing this.

“Does it taste like I do?” she purrs.

Her eyes sparkle.

“Good girl,” I mutter.

I’ve never been intimate with a contestant before. I’ve never wanted to sink my cock in one so badly to punish her for betraying me.

I’ve never wanted not to like someone so bad either.

It’s a switch I can’t figure out how to turn off.

Any other feeling is easy, I’ve spent years perfecting it.

But the switch for my wife? It’s fucking jammed on. It won’t turn off no matter what I try. And even if I do, just slightly, she flips it herself.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I drag her over behind the mechanism.

“On your knees for me, wife,” I grunt.

And she does. It’s a relief for a second, not having her beautiful eyes burning into me.

She gets in position without needing to ask. Her head in one space, her wrists in the other. I lower the wood to secure her in.

The FQ branded into her ass taunts me and makes me hard.

Mine.

No matter what. She is mine.

I don’t want to go straight in for the blow, the big questions. We have to start small not to rattle her. Because if she closes up on me and refuses to speak, she will unleash a Finn that neither of us can ever survive from.

It seems the way to get to her is by being Finn. The one she was falling for. The one she trusts and doesn’t want to let go of.

But the more frustrated I get, the less sure I am how long I can be that version of myself for her.

Dragging her thong to one side, her glistening pussy has my full attention.

I drop down to my knees.

The timer on the wall begins to count down from three minutes, and I press the button on the wood to start the blade's slow journey to the top.

“Is this what you need?” I ask, sliding my fingers across her wetness.

“Y-yes.”

As I sink two fingers inside of her, she gushes all over my hand.

“So, the fear of death really does make you soaked, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

Fuck. She’s so perfect for me. It’s such a shame we’ve ended up like this.

I get her close to the edge, her moans filling the room. And then I stop. But I don’t withdraw.

“I’d like to know about your parents, Stephanie.”

She freezes up.

“W-what? Why?”

I slowly start to pull them out. I’ve hit a nerve with her.

“This is part of our trial. Learning about each other. Pasts are very important, and time is of the essence.”

Although, I have no intentions of revealing more about myself to her. I thought she deserved that part of me.

“Fine. Fine!” she cries out.

“My parents are in jail for murder. They got life. I haven’t seen them since I was twelve. I was in the foster system. I moved around a lot and finally settled here when I got into med school.”

I push my fingers back in and curl them on her G-spot as a reward.

“Fuck,” she cries out.

“Good girl.”

I know that’s the truth. Because I know all about her parents’ murder spree. A case of desperation. Her father was being sued and on the brink of losing everything. So they poisoned the claimants and got caught.

I feel for her. And this is where her abandonment wound shows. Why she pushes herself so hard to be independent.

The career, being top of her class, never having a boyfriend. It all is her attempt to keep her heart safe.

It’s exactly how I’ve protected myself too.

Circling her clit with my thumb, I give her a few seconds of pleasure.

“Now. I’d like to know why my wife is a stripper. You have the money, the career. Why did you start, and why do you still do it now?”

I keep gently gliding in and out of her, making her legs start to tremble.

“You’re so close to a relief, temptress. Answer this and I’ll give it to you with my mouth.”

She sucks in a breath and pauses. The timer is ticking away.

“I had to pay for school. I had scholarships, but that didn’t cover everything I needed to live. It was quick and easy cash.”

Makes sense, but I know there is more. I’m close though.

“Just dancing alone gave you enough cash? You must have been something special.”

She shudders.

But she is special.

“Well, to start with, yes. I was young and dumb. I let the manager at the time convince me to give up more; for money that meant I never had to worry. I let them do things to me. It makes me sick. If I didn’t, I’d lose my job.

I was only eighteen. I thought if I sacrificed my dignity then, once I’d made it in my career, I’d forget about it. I was wrong. So wrong.”

My stomach sinks at the pain in her voice. The regret. The disgust. It’s all so raw and real.

I understand her pain.

“Why were you still doing it?”

I up the tempo to distract her from her pain inside.

She doesn’t answer immediately.

So I spank her, hard, on her branded ass. That might spark something inside of her to talk.

“Sixty seconds left, love.”

She lets out a breath of defeat.

“To feel. I told you. That power—I’m not that scared and desperate eighteen-year-old girl anymore. I look after the girls. I stop predators from getting to them like they did me.”

A grin tugs at my lips.

Almost. So fucking close.

I know she stops predators, but it’s the how I’m interested in.

One fucking name I’m interested in.

She is primed and ready for the next game.

Spreading her legs wider, I move myself between them, spreading her open with my hands. And I feast on her.

She’s earned this.

“So fucking good for me, love.”

Her hips roll against my face and my fingers dig into her ass.

With twenty seconds left, she’s passed this test.

“Come for me, wife.”