by Mason, V. F.
One touch and I burn for him. He’s made me addicted to him in just one night!
His fingers unhook the belt on my robe, sliding it over my body, and for a second, I remove my hands from him, sending the offensive silky fabric to the floor. Then my hands travel to the towel, unhooking it from his hips.
A moan slips past my lips when his length comes into view. My cheeks heat up, my palms covering my mouth.
“Be as loud as you want. Your moans belong to me,” he growls over my lips, sending pulsations down my stomach straight to my clit as he finds my mouth, demanding complete submission.
His palm trails down my stomach then drifts to my pussy, circling my clit with his fingers. I gasp, sharing my breath with him, hooking my legs tighter over his hips, and pushing myself closer to him.
He groans over my breast, envelops a tight areola with his mouth, and sucks hard. I bang my head against the cupboard, biting my lips and whimpering loudly, pleading, “Eudard.”
“I can get off just watching your face fill with desire,” he whispers, paying the same attention to the other breast as he lifts me higher in the throes of desire. “Your smell, the little whimpers, the flush that spreads all over your body, I no longer know how to live without them.” A beat and then, “You’ve consumed a madman.”
A thrill flashes over my body, sending chills along with goose bumps, and it’s impossible to mute how they affect me.
In his arms, I find freedom from all rules, past and present. Only both of us exist where I’m his only obsession, and despite how wrong it might be, I crave it so much I can taste the desire on my tongue.
Arching my back, I press my nipple against his lips. “I need you, Eudard. Hard, inside me, fucking my brains out.”
He freezes for a second, probably shocked from the words I’ve used, but I don't care. He makes me crazy and needy, so he can deal with it.
Isn't he the teacher in this, and I’m the student like he claimed last night?
Tearing open the condom pocket—where did he get that from?—he slowly rolls it onto his length as he watches my chest rise and fall. Excitement spreads all over my skin as I anticipate him thrusting inside me. The hunger is driving me crazy; a suffering moan slips between my lips, and his eyes darken, while he snarls, “Didn’t have your fill, did you, my phoenix?” I shake my head, because what’s the point of denying it? And he fists my hair, tugging on it, and leans toward me, his breath fanning my cheek. “I should punish you for denying this,” he says. His words are like a knife slicing through the desire enveloping us. “Maybe I should leave you like this.” His other hand cups my pussy, his fingers sinking deep into me, and I cry out. “Wet and aching for me with your body begging for me to take it?” He nips at my chin harshly. “So you won’t ever deny that you are mine again.”
A whimper escapes me, as I plead, “Please, don’t.” I wrap my legs tighter around him, jerking my hips so the tip of his cock rubs against my core, almost slipping inside. “Take me.”
I can beg him for hours if I need to, so he won’t leave me with this hunger.
He slams his mouth over mine as he plunges deep, my wetness allowing him to slip in easily. We both groan into each other’s mouth as he grips my thighs, thrusting into me harder.
My heels dig into his ass while my nails scratch his sweaty back, and my lungs burn. He finally lets go, allowing me to bite his shoulder harshly while he tugs my hair, my head falling back and exposing my neck for him. “Maybe I should mark you, so no fucker will ever dare to think you are free.”
Possessiveness laces his voice as he proceeds to do what he promises, feasting on my neck with loud sucks, as I plead, “Harder. Faster. Deeper.”
He pushes all the way in, holding me steady so I won’t slide from the counter. “It’s impossible to get enough of this,” he says, biting my earlobe and then soothing it quickly while driving in with a force that shakes us both.
“Yes.” There simply can never be another answer, no matter what.
“Tight, so tight. Always fucking tight for me.” He starts to fuck me harder yet slow, thrusting in and out with smooth, calculated moves that bring me higher and higher, all while my lips chant his name only.
Eudard.
My madman.
Yanking his head down for a kiss, I clench around him and he growls, sinking deeper. I need him to speed the hell up and finish the job before I lose my mind.
My body reacts to his like gasoline to fire, but this time… there is something different about it. Like I would die if he doesn’t give me an orgasm, forever lost in this world without my anchor.
Without him soothing the ache only he can awaken.
Digging his fingers harsher into my thighs, jerking my legs wider, he picks up the pace, giving me soft yet deep strokes one after the other, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh buzzing in my ears, blocking everything else out.
Then he trails his finger to my clit, tapping it lightly, and it’s enough to send me over the edge. Pleasure spreads through me like fire, pulling my skin in different directions as a scream tears from my throat, but he only presses harder, rubbing his pubic bone against my sensitive clit. I rest my head on the cupboard as he pumps into me a few more times before he stills, his eyes glazing with desire and raw need.
He’s never been more handsome to me than in this moment.
A man who has the ability to make me see stars in this darkness that I call my life.
He breathes heavily into my neck, my legs still wrapped tightly around him while I hug him close, not wanting to let go.
Is sex always like this for people? Where you experience the feeling of belonging completely to a man like nothing exists but you two?
Or are Eudard and I the exception?
“The test results confirm you are a liar, Miss Scott,” Eudard whispers into my ear before biting on my lobe, and I giggle, giving him a light peck.
“I still don’t want a relationship.”
He sighs dramatically. “Fine. I agree not to give this a label as long as you understand who you belong to.”
“Yep, to myself,” I reply proudly, but yelp when he bites my shoulder, for sure leaving a mark.
“To me and no one else.” It’s so not modern-like, but pleasure shoots through me, because the idea of being his doesn’t frighten me.
However, the consequences of that decision might.
“Eudard,” I start, wanting to find better words to explain, but the ringing of the phone interrupts me.
Groaning, he picks me up and walks with me toward the stove where his phone is and picks it up, still digging his nose into my neck. “Campbell.” He tenses and then leans back, his brows furrowing. “No, I’m not.”
What’s going on? I mouth, and he shakes his head, grabbing the remote for my TV that’s on the nearby shelf and turning it on.
The news is on with the headline about our town. While we don’t have a full-on TV station in town, we have one that covers around seven small towns across the board, and people love watching news here.
Keeping up with the world, plus reporters are always cheery.
This one doesn’t smile though; instead, horror is etched on her features. “Today, near the police station, the body of Ethan White was found along with a letter rolled into his mouth. According to our trusted sources, this letter has the confession of him, along with several other people, raping Arianna Griffin ten years ago. The other names are not mentioned, only their first initials. The police refuse to answer any questions, but an investigation might be in order.”
“Fuck,” Eudard mutters, but his tone stays calm like he is not seeing someone he grew up with dead.
I’m frozen though, not even breathing.
Ethan White is dead.
One name, the very first one, as he was the one who lured me onto that cliff, crossed from my list.
Not only dead, but someone managed to get a confession out of him.
My eyes close and a small exhale leaves me, all
owing me to breathe deeper as some of the pressure I’ve felt for so long loosens.
One of them is gone.
Chapter Fourteen
“What is death, Daddy?” I asked my father this question all the time.
His reply was always the same. “Once God decides it’s time for me to go, I’ll have to go back home to heaven. And I’ll be watching over you there like a guardian angel, so no matter what… I’ll always be with you.”
I hope though that Dad didn’t become my guardian angel.
Because for what I have become, I can’t be close to angels.
After all, I’m a sinner who will be coated in the blood and terror of my victims.
From the memories of Arianna Griffin…
“If you sign this paper, Matilda, this nightmare will be over for all parties involved,” Ridge Campbell says as he sits in the living room of our house and slides the paper to my parents. “We paid for all the medical bills. There will be monetary compensation, of course, and Arianna can choose any university she wants.” He waits a bit before adding, his gaze shifting to me for a second, “Let’s not ruin the lives of eight kids, because they decided to play and didn’t know how.” Even though his voice stays void of any emotion, I don’t miss the authority lacing it, as if he expects the matter to be settled.
Maybe because he finally took the case into his own hands and won’t let Ralph’s dad, Maurice, handle it.
After I got my voice back, I screamed to my parents who had done this to me, and they were horrified. Mom rocked me in her arms as much as she could with all the casts and bruises, while Dad became livid.
They immediately filed the report, not questioning me or believing those stupid rumors that I’d done this to myself or fell in with the wrong crowd.
Dad wanted all the kids of the founding five plus Cole to answer for this.
No one believed us, of course. The small town had been horrified by such suggestions and thought I mixed something up. They couldn’t believe the kids who grew up under their eyes could have done it.
But I kept to my truth and wanted justice, wanted a trial.
I wanted them punished and hopeless and in pain, just like I was while they’d done all those horrible things to my spirit and body.
Things I’ll never be able to wash away.
“This nightmare,” my dad grits through his teeth, his cheeks red, probably from the fury rocking him, “will never be over for my child. Those kids deserve to be punished for hurting my little girl!” he shouts at Ridge Campbell’s face, and warmth fills my chest at my parents’ support.
They’ve worked in his office for forever and never so much as lifted their voices at him, but here they stood protecting me. What else could a girl wish for?
“If you go to court with this, you will lose,” Ridge replies calmly, unbuttons his suit jacket, and rests his back on the couch with his hand on the top of it. “There are no traces of DNA left on her body. No indication that the boys were there or the girls. And more importantly, my boys were home the entire time, according to my staff.” My breath hitches at his implication that I can read between the lines.
He can make everyone have an alibi for this case if we demand justice.
Ridge Campbell is a ruthless man who rules this town mercilessly and only gets involved when shit hits the fan. He rarely graces anyone with his attention, but when he does… people run in a different direction.
Eudard’s scars pop in my head, their vicious redness, and how many of them are scattered all over his body. Was he the one to put them there? Was he abusing his kids too?
But then Eachann never had them. We had swim classes through the years in school and he never had one. Come to think about it, Eudard always missed those classes.
Shaking my head from those betraying thoughts, I concentrate on my anger and not on the guy who didn’t come when I needed him the most.
He might not have been involved in my downfall like his twin, but he contributed to it as well.
“We will take our chances,” my mom says and gets up, pointing at the door. “Now, get the hell out of my house.”
“You both are making a mistake.” Then he looks at me, drilling his icy stare into me, but I lift my chin high, not shying away from it. “If you insist, your life will be ruined. With the amount of power we have, there is no chance of you winning it. This will be on the news. People will feel sorry for those who you bad-mouth. And then no one will believe you.” A smile that sends chills down my spine curves his lips. “You’ll be this girl who never got the gold medal so she tried getting her fame otherwise. Think about that before you scream for justice.” He leans forward, and even though I’m standing a few feet away from him, I step back as if his words can physically hurt me. “In this town, no one believes you and you grew up here. Do you think the world will?” By the end of his speech, I’m shaking while the bile in my throat rises and my pulse races. The air sticks in my lungs and I’m gulping for breath, but it feels like none gets inside.
“Arianna!” Mom shouts, jumping to me and palms my head. “Breathe, honey, breathe.”
I shake my head and gulp for air again, desperately needing it, but for some reason it’s not there.
Ridge’s words echo in my ears while tremor after tremor rock my body and tears stream down my cheeks at the prospect that he might be right.
That in this world, no one will believe me, even though they have known me my whole life.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Dad roars, and despite my panic attack, I see him grab Ridge by the lapels of his jacket and drag him to the door. “And don’t come back. We will go to court, and we will win. We have nothing to be afraid of. My daughter is innocent, and you can tell the founding five to shove their money down their throats. Even if they all go through the hell they put her through, it will never be enough for us.”
Ridge Campbell adjusts the collar of his shirt and chuckles. “You just made a big mistake, Ted. Now you’ll have to face the consequences.” There is an odd tone lacing those words, almost like begging mixed with regret, but my dad doesn’t even twitch a muscle.
And why would Ridge plead anyway? I doubted there was anything he was afraid of.
Dad opens the door and pushes Ridge out. “I’ll face whatever is necessary for the world to hear the truth.” With that, he shuts the door in Ridge’s face, the vibration of it shaking the walls a little, and then in a flash, I’m in Dad’s arms. He squeezes me tightly and his familiar scent of safety fills my lungs, finally allowing the air to slip inside. “Shhh, my little girl,” he whispers, resting his cheek on the top of my head while Mom watches us with her palm covering her mouth. “No one will ever harm you again. As long as I live, I’ll kill all the monsters.” I wrap my hands around him, soaking in his love while Mom rubs my back, and I cry on his chest for my bad fortune, but also in relief.
Dad will slay all the monsters, and maybe I won’t have to ever leave.
Daddy kept his word.
No one harmed me as long as he lived.
* * *
Rolling on my bed, I huff in exasperation, trying to find a comfortable position for my shoulder, but fail. The doctor told me after removing my cast that I might have to learn how to sleep properly again, and he was right.
Just one more thing the founding five took away from me.
Ending up on my back again, I sigh heavily while running my fingers over my hair, thinking about the situation earlier.
My parents ushered me upstairs to rest where I’ve been lying for the last seven hours stupidly gazing at the ceiling while replaying in my mind all the ice skating recordings I’ve watched my entire life.
I didn’t want to eat or watch anything, but remembering the ice brings me relief. Doctors said due to my injuries I would never be able to get back on it, but I’ve heard all those things before.
I’ll never be a medalist now—the founding five stripped me of that too—but I want to teach kids how to glide on the ice. How to
find beauty in every move and every scratch. How to respect the ice and feel its heartbeat under your skates when you jump on it and trust it to take care of it.
Isn’t it ironic? As an ice skater, the ice never failed me, always catching me in time while it was people who betrayed me.
I cough a little and wince at how sore my throat is, probably from all the screaming and crying I did. They warned me to take it easy and not strain my voice, as the tissue inside was still healing.
Looking around for water or tea to soothe it, I frown when I find none on my nightstand. Mom has been putting it there every night before she goes to bed, even when I said not to.
But I always end up drinking it.
Throwing the blanket to the side, I pad softly to the door and wince when it squeaks loudly in the otherwise silent space.
My bare feet slap against the wood as I go out in the hallway and to the stairs, grateful for putting on pajamas today instead of a nightgown, as the AC is blasting on full force, which is strange too.
My parents never leave it on, preferring to have the windows open.
Reaching the bottom step, my toe touches something liquid and warm, and I curse. “Oh snap. Did they spill something here?” I wonder aloud, searching for the switch but can’t find it.
Blindly walking to the kitchen, I stumble on something heavy, and my eyes widen even though I can’t see shit.
Pushing away from whatever the hell it is, I pour myself a glass of water and gulp it greedily, welcoming how it soothes my throat just as the sound of a vase breaking echoes through the house.
I pause with the glass midway to my mouth, and this time I slide my hand over the wall, determination fueling me to turn on the light and find out what the hell is going on.
The last time such a commotion happened was when Dad tried to sneak my bike under the Christmas tree, and Mom laughed her ass off.
But Christmas is not here, so what’s going on?
