Page 55 of Only for Him

And I fucking wanted it. I would’ve begged for it if it weren’t for the gun in my mouth.

Memories crash back like waves, threatening to drown me in the weight of what’s happened. The cold barrel in my throat,the thrill of surrender, and the exquisite way that his fingers tightened ever so slightly around my throat as he choked the consciousness out of me.

The orgasm that came at the edge of my world fading away.

And the effortless way he picked me up onto his shoulder. He must’ve dressed me in my clothes, tucked me in like he has a right to, and then left after he cleaned up after himself while remembering to leave behind all the trophies of his conquest.

I reach up to touch my fevered forehead, and briefly wondered if he might’ve kissed me goodnight before he left.

Ugh!

I hate that my thighs start clenching at the memory.

I hate that I can feel wetness already slicking my thighs.

I hate that I want not just a repeat, but for him to do so much more.

Why is he doing this to me?

Why didn’t he do more to me?

Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side. The world tilts for a second when I stand, vertigo lapping at my temples. I brace myself on the nightstand, and knock over a water glass.

He was in here.

And he pulled away. Why? Did he just want to prove to me that I’m powerless to resist him? That he can control anything and everything between us? Thathegets to set the terms and the tone of our obsession for each other?

“Fuck you,” I hiss. My empty stomach flips with shame.

Last night was an impossible mixture. Something raw, terrifying, and inescapably thrilling. Now, two emotions that shouldn’t share the same skin—rage and lust—but here they are, twisting around each other like a pair of snakes around a staff.

I glance down at the nightstand at the gun.

He made me suck the barrel of my own loaded gun like it was God’s cock, and it was the hottest thing anyone has ever done to me.

Frustration gathers on my eyelashes and I swipe it away, angry but horribly alive. My body is still tender and loose from the release I found on his leg. And now that he’s gone, there’s an emptiness in me. It’s like he surgically removed the part of me with dignity.

Or the part that pretends to be good.

Because I’m not good, am I?

I’m dirty, and dark, and I’m starving for more of what he’s feeding me.

My pulse quickens again. I run to the bathroom to wash him off me, but goddammit—he’s already there. Of course he is. He’s always ahead of me.

Not physically, of course. But more of his fucking mind games.

Another fucking rose. Another fucking note.

You’ll see the truth soon enough, little viper.

I want to crush the perfect petals in my hand, and keep going until they turn into dust.

Where did he even get the idea that I like roses? He thinks he knows me so intimately, but he doesn’t even know that I don’t give two shits about bouquets.

But at the same time, I know that if hestoppedsending them to me…

No! Stop it!