Page 33 of Liar
I step into a darkened room, cast in enough moonlight from the large bay window that I flick my lighter off and stuff it back in my jeans. The section of bookshelf I’d come through clicks back into place with a press of my palm, much easier to maneuver from this side of the hinges. I’ve made it into the library, much smaller than my family’s, but well-read with first editions and … a concerning amount of crime novels.
I don’t linger on the spines too long, what with Ember being so close I can smell her. I’m not a beast with heightened senses, but the scent of her pussy lips lingers in my nose, a triggered memory that becomes stronger the closer I come to her bedroom door.
My cock tents in my pants, straining against the denim. It’s so uncomfortably pleasing that I have to reach in and adjust until it’s flat against my stomach, the tip already wet with precum. In a flash, my fingers become hers and I groan. What is it with this girl? I can’t get Ember out of my head. The image of her swinging at Zeke loops in my mind. The spray of blood across her cheekbones and forehead, the feverish light in her normally black eyes, the tips of her long, ash blonde hair wet with it…
Except in my mind, Ember’s not wearing an ivory dress. She’s naked, her breasts splashed with blood, her nipples erect, and she saunters toward me, handing me the paddle and pleading with her swollen lips to smack it against all her soft parts before taking her from behind…
I growl. Maybe I am a beast. The Beast of Weatherby Manor has a nice ring to it.
But no, I have to remind myself I’m here for the opposite of taking Ember’s virginity. This time, I need her out of my head for good. If last night showed me anything, it’s that Ember’s in too deep and falling into my father’s clutches far too easily.
Her door forms out of the darkness. I place both palms against the paneled wood as if I could feel the heat of her through the thick, varnished pine.
Is she sleeping? I hope so. I’d love to wake her up before I push her away.
The brass knob gives in my grip. My cock twitches at such easy entry, and I have to coax it down, reciting over and over that I’m not here for her tight, wet pussy, though I’m groaning with want.
Over a month with only my hand for company has done its damage. I wouldn’t dare touch Savannah after what she’s gone through. More than that, I don’t want to. She’s not who commands my dreams and warps my fantasies. It’s not Sav who twists my balls and turns them blue.
It’s … her.
The door swings open on oiled hinges, nothing but a quiet swish against the threadbare carpeting.
Surprisingly, her bedside light is on. At three in the morning, I was confident she’d be asleep. Narrowing my vision, I pause in the doorway, sweeping the bedroom, noting the undisturbed bed and—
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
The screech comes from my left. Ember pushes the door shut behind me, revealing herself in one of her worn-down cartoon T-shirts and nothing else.
Well, not exactly nothing else. She’s brandishing a pickle ball paddle.
The vision of her naked in someone else’s blood, begging for a spanking, comes at me in such a rush that the most animalistic parts of me roar for dominance.
Outwardly, I arch a brow. “Care to challenge me to a pickle match?”
“Fuck you,” she seethes, her hair a tangled halo around her wide eyes. “This is all I had on such short notice. I didn’t expect an intruder to saunter through my door after midnight.”
“Maybe put a knife under your pillow next time.”
“You’d like that.”
“I truly would.” I step deeper into her room. Ember circles me, tracking my movements.
Still holding the paddle in the air, she asks, “What do you want?”
I turn back to her, ignoring the question. “How did you hear me coming?”
She jolts, taken aback by the question. “I’m used to the sounds of this house at night. When one’s less familiar, like the groan of a moving wall, my hearing tends to perk up.”
“Hmm.” I mull this over. “I woke you? I’m usually stealth in human form.”
She scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was already awake. Can’t sleep.” Her eyes shift away.
Watching the memory of last night flicker across her face causes a certain possessive buzz in my body, growing louder the more I realize just how much she’s thinking about Zeke.
I give a dismissive grunt. “It’s nothing the rest of us haven’t endured before. That crusty mole of a guy will be just fine.”
“Zeke’s not part of the Societies or their training. In fact, he denied his invitation. Zeke didn’t consent to any of this. Do you know how I know that?” Her throat bobs as her eyes develop a sheen. “That terrified look that flashed across his face…”