Page 19 of Pawn

Damien.

“Damien!”

At least he didn’t gag me but now I’m guessing he wishes he did. The rumble of his voice comes from beyond the door before …

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The devil approaches.

The door opens, Damien slipping inside. That devilish smirk appears on his lips when he sees me on the ground. “Well, what have we here?” After he closes the door, he leans against it, crossing his arms, already in a fresh set of clothes. One of his classic black shirts clings to those muscular arms. It reveals his tattoos and those hard pecs that turn me into mush.

“What the actual fuck? Untie me!” Lifting my head off the floor, I make sure he hears me. “Now!”

He tsks, taking a few steps towards me in dark denim jeans but now’s not the time to sneak a peek at his ass. “You know better than to tell me what to do.” Crouching his rumbling voice gets louder, ripping right through my chest.

A purple bruise sits under his eye, the damage from his aunt much more clear on his face now. It breaks my heart but I’m still fucking annoyed. “Why am I tied up? I thought we made a deal.”

“So you didn’t plan on running this morning?” I did and my silence answers his question for him. “Thought so.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaves me on the floor and I can feel his eyes boring into my ass. “If you only knew how good you look in that.”

“You’re sick. I thought we made a deal.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his fingers grazing my back. “To finally make a deal?”

His touch sets my skin on fire but I fight it. “As if making a deal with the devil ever brought me any good.” He chuckles and with that, he’s lifting me off the floor, tossing me on the bed like a bail of hay. “Damien!” I yell, landing on my side on the soft mattress.

His lip disappears under his teeth as he watches me, his fingers moving along the rope on my thigh. This would be hot and sensual if I wasn’t so confused by the mess that is my life. This shitty, shitty life. Damien is the only thing that makes me feel anything in it and yet, we’re too fucked up to be together.

‘Untie me!” I yell again. “This isn’t funny!”

“Sssh.” Damien’s finger glides over my ass and I hate that it gives me the shivers. How the fuck did he get me out of my clothes and into these ropes without even waking me up? Passing out with Damien King works better than any drug. Aftereffects included the way he’ll knock you out and fuck you over in the morning.

“So, here’s how it’s gonna go.” His voice is husky when he runs a long finger between my exposed ass cheeks. It makes my ass poke up like I’m possessed, my body craving his touch. It always does. “We’re gonna make the cops believe that Marion killed herself. Plagued by her own existence after her big brother’s death. Lost with no assets of her own.”

“How poetic.”

“Would you rather me tell the cops we pushed her off my house so she wouldn’t kill the love of my life?”

Wait. “The love of yo—” A cold finger lands between my slit, cutting off my words before he chuckles.

“You’re so full of shit, Rowland,” he growls, sliding his fingers between my slit. “You’re always wet for me. Even through all this. You’re as fucked up as I am.”

“I’m not—”

“We don’t go to the cops,” he continues laying the law as his finger finds my clit and, oh god, he knows just how to play it. With ripples of bliss flowing through me, it’s hard to concentrate on what he’s saying. “We don’t tell anyone about what happened. Not even Willow.”

“Y-you want me to lie to my sister? After all this?”

“We need to protect her. The less she knows the better. Especially with her company.”

Damien has a point. Willow hangs out with the High Gossipists of Elite Royal Academy. She’s not exactly the master at keeping secrets. We shouldn’t risk it. Not if I want my ass to end up back in jail.

“Okay, now can you untie me so we can talk about this like normal people?”

He chuckles again. “We’re far from normal, Jo. The minute you get that through your head the sooner we can go back to being us.”

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