Page 124 of The Pact

I need her curious eyes off of me. “Come here.”

Thea obeys. I kneel and push her thighs apart. With my shirt in one hand, I wipe up my come that’s leaked a path down her legs. When she’s mostly clean, we head back to the clearing to find her shorts.

The hike back down the mountain is quiet. I think we’re both in our heads, trying to sort through some things. What I’m feeling for her scares me. The things I do to Thea probably scare her. I’m not sure if that mutual fear will bring us closer together or drive us apart.

Another thing that sits heavily on my mind is that I’m the last stop before she gets to Damian. I’ve seen the darkness brewing in my brother’s eyes. I know the kinds of things he wants to do to her. After today, I think she can handle it. But what if she can’t? What if he’s too much for her and she leaves?

I can’t bear it. I can’t lose her. Not when I just got her.

42

THEA

It’s the first time I’ve made it down to the little dock on the river behind the house. The sun is setting and a cool breeze makes it chillier than I expect. I shiver, wishing I’d brought a jacket. The steep stairs leading down to the water stop me from heading up to grab one.

Glancing behind me, the wall of windows in the living room is illuminated with a soft, warm glow. But I see no one from here. Something catches my eye and I turn. Damian is making his way down the steps.

“It’s nice out here,” I call out, then face the water again. I still haven’t received those punishments that Damian promised. It puts me on edge whenever I’m around him.

He stands next to me, so close that our shoulders brush. “It is. It’s been a while since I’ve come down here. Things have been hectic.” I give him a sidelong glance, not wanting to pry, only hoping he’ll volunteer some information.

He doesn’t.

Damian points a finger to the left. “If you follow the river a mile or so down that way, you’d find the creek where we played growing up. Wolf Creek.” The realization dawns on me. The names of their businesses. The nickname for the four of them. Wesley’s tattoo. Their shared last name, although spelled differently. “We had some great times there, some hard times too. But it was the foundation for all of this,” he reveals as his head twists to look back at the house.

“Wolfe Creek Four.” I say it, hoping that he’ll tell me more, knowing that I’ve heard the gossip.

He lets out a rough laugh and his eyes meet mine. “Oh yes, we’re infamous around these parts.” Damian rolls his blue eyes. “People like to create scandal where there’s none.”

“So the four of you did nothing worth being remembered for?” I find it hard to believe. I get the feeling they weren’t exactly innocent.

He raises a brow. “Worth being remembered for and worth gossiping about at church on Sunday are two very different things.”

“So you never got into any trouble?” I ask, curious to know more about their past.

I see a smile tug at his lips as he gazes out over the water. “I never said that.” His eyes find mine and I feel like he’s debating on whether to elaborate. “We got into mischief, that’s what people talk about. Trouble? Well, we’re pretty good at not getting caught. The mischief is often the sleight of hand for what we’re really trying to get away with.”

I can tell by the weight of his gaze on me he’s inspecting me for shock…fear…or something else. I give him nothing but a blank expression. Inside is another story.

What kind of trouble had they gotten away with? I want to believe it was adolescent antics, maybe a little more, yet something in my gut tells me it might be more sinister than that. I realize I don’t know very much about any of them. Not even Sutton, if I think about it.

“Better be careful,” I tease. “One day, you might get punished for your wrongdoings.” I see his smirk falter out of the corner of my eye. I wonder if that’s something that burdens him.

Suddenly, Damian presses into my back, his arms on either side of mine on the wood of the dock railing. I’m caged in. My heart thuds in my chest and I try to steady my breathing. What is it about this man that excites and scares me at the same time? And why do I feel myself needing to see how far I can push him?

The warmth of his arms brushes mine. Even beneath the ink covering his skin, his veins bulge as he grips the railing tightly. Flashes of those hands gripping my neck, my thighs, my tits have me clenching my legs together.

Damian must notice. Leaning down, grazing his lips over my ear, he murmurs in a velvety smooth voice, “If I were you, I wouldn’t be concerned about anyone’s punishment but my own.”

I can’t help the slight whimper that escapes.

“Does the thought of punishment excite you, princess?” Red rushes to my cheeks and I look down at my feet. “It does, doesn’t it? You’re squirming and blushing at the thought.” Damian coaxes as he pushes into my back more. His closeness makes it hard to breathe. “Is it the act itself or me doing it to you that has you all worked up?”

This is exactly what I wanted, Damian’s attention—the pampering and the punishment, as he calls it. So why do I want to turn and run back to the house now that I have it?

His hand comes up and grips my throat. “Answer me.” That silky voice is now rough and commanding.

Fuck. “You,” I pant out. Damian’s fingers tighten on my neck and his hips push into me—he’s hard. I want to reach behind me and run my hand over his cock. However, he likes being in control, so I clasp them in front of me instead.

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