Kill Switch (Devil's Night 3)

“I was a kid,” she said, pain in her voice. “I thought I was in love. I was a naïve, stupid kid. Do you know what it’s like to think someone loves you and then you find out you were nothing but meat?”

I curled my fists, taking the sheets with me as I shut out my own memories that tried to spring up.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Yes, I did.

I knew what it was like to have horrible things being done to your body, and watch it betray you and make you think you’re bad for liking it when you knew you didn’t.

I shot out my hands, grabbing her hips and lifting my head as the blade threatened to sink into me. “And I killed her for it,” I told her. “So do it then.”

She breathed hard, and I could feel her grips shaking as she held her weapons.

“Because I won’t stop,” I said quietly, smelling her shampooed hair.

She’d showered, all the makeup and the costume now gone, replaced with silk sleep shorts and a white T-shirt with her hair still wet.

“Do it,” I egged her on.

The sharp points burrowed, threatening me, and I loved the view of her like this. Taking control of me, her power painful but demanding, and I wanted her to demand anything she wanted from me right now.

My cock started to grow hard under her, drawn to her warmth as she sat on me, and I was very prepared to let this happen again tonight. Just for tonight.

She came to me, after all.

“You weren’t lying,” she finally said, looking thoughtful like a memory was playing in her mind.

I’d told her in the janitor’s closet seven years ago that I killed my mother. She thought I was talking shit. Now she knew.

“When did it start?” she asked, her brain deciphering what happened.

But I wasn’t going there. Never, ever again.

“In the fountain when you were eight and I was eleven,” I told her.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s all that matters.” And I dug my fingers into her ass as I lifted my hips and pressed my cock between her legs.

“Ah, yeah,” I gasped, my rock-hard ridge soaking in her heat through her lacy, silk boxers.

I couldn’t fucking think.

Breathing faster, I dove into it all, the demand of her questions and the threat of the knives ready to hurt me and end me right here, right now. Sweat cooled my skin, the rustle of my body in the sheets filled my ears, and every other sense heightened with awareness as I let go, wanting to feel this. To be filled with anything of her.

Moving one hand to where her neck met her shoulder, I took hold of her body and rode her from the bottom, her clothes still on and the torture making it all the more insane.

“Stop,” she breathed out. “Damon, stop.”

“Get off me then.”

She was sitting on me. I had no control here.

“I may be married to Ari,” I told her, dying to get inside her body again. “But her little sister is who I really wanted to play with.” I yanked her down to me, the knives falling away as I whispered against her lips. “Always wanted to play with.”

She trembled, and her eyes watered, and I thought she was going to pull away and run, but she was frozen.

“You’re mine,” I said, kissing her mouth once as I humped her. “Mine.” I kissed her again. “Mine in that fountain. Mine in the locker room and in the janitor’s closet. Mine in the dean’s office.” I took her jaw in my hand. “You’ll have my kids and be my woman and fuck me, because that’s what I want.”