Page 37 of Pretty Little Psycho

“You’re my penance. My reward for bad deeds. And I plan on using every inch of your body for my own sick pleasure.” He unzips my jeans. “As payment for what your family has stolen from me.”

I gasp as he slips his hand inside my wet panties. “You’re a fucking bastard.”

He snickers and pinches my clit. “Yeah. A bastard who gets to play with your pretty little cunt.”

I moan as he slips his finger inside. “Stop.”

He chuckles and adds a second finger, stretching me open as he kneads at my tender flesh. “I’ll never stop, Firecracker. You can scream, cry, beg… I don’t fucking care. You belong to me now. To Nocturnus.”

I roll my hips up as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Another moan waffles out of me. “No.” I shake my head even though the last thing I want him to do is stop. He touches me like no one ever has. Not for his own pleasure, but for mine. Despite what he says, he wants me to enjoy this.

“Yes.” He hovers his lips over mine but doesn’t kiss me. And fuck how I want him to kiss me. I want to taste him so bad.

He squeezes my throat even tighter while palming my pussy with his other hand. He presses hard against the flesh, grinding his palm against my swollen clit, and adds a third finger inside.

I bite my lip so hard I break the skin. Blood trickles down my chin, but I’m lost in this ecstasy, so I don’t bother to wipe it up. “Fuck,” I whisper.

“This won’t be the last time you bleed for me, Firecracker.” His fingers curl up toward my G-spot and an explosion of stars and light cloud my vision. A wave of vibrations rocks my core like electric shocks.

I moan and cry out right before he cuts off the air to my lungs. I don’t even care. The lack of oxygen does something strange and new to my body. Like all I can feel is this orgasm taking over. I feel every tremor, every tender flick from his fingers.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I gag as he releases his hold on my throat. I cough and choke on my own saliva while my orgasm still buzzes through me.

Riot pulls his fingers from my pussy and presses them to my mouth. “I want you to taste what I did to you. That way you’ll never question who you belong to again.”

My knees tremble. If it weren’t for his thigh between my legs, I’d surely collapse. I try to turn my face, but he pinches me hard on the chin, yanking it back. “Open your fucking mouth.”

I can barely part my lips before he presses three soaking wet fingers against my tongue. Another tingle shatters my core as I taste my own cum on his salty skin. He shoves them all the way to the back of my throat and something feral comes over me. I suck them clean.

“The next time you contemplate standing me up, remember this moment,” he snarls.

Fuck. I can’t do this again. I made myself a promise. Fuck him and his crazy threats. I don’t believe in curses or magic anyway. But more importantly, I don’t want to crave this.

I zip up and button my jeans. “As fun and weird as this has been, I’m not a piece of property to own. I’m truly sorry that my family has wronged you, but I can’t—”

Riot slams me so hard against the shelves, a few books fall to the ground and the air wooshes out of my lungs. “Do you know why you were able to enter Raven’s Gate, Maureen? Do you think anyone can just waltz in here? Hmm?”

All I can do is shake my head as I struggle for breath.

“The night I first saw you at Wickford Mansion… we both killed people.”

Fuck. This can’t be happening. Tears stream down my cheeks. “You don’t understand.”

Riot squeezes my wrists so tight, my hands tingle. “It took me a minute to put it all together. But it explains everything. While I was out front murdering your pathetic frat boys, you were somewhere in the house spilling blood yourself. Two blood sacrifices from a Graves and a Blackwell on Halloween night. The ravens saw and opened up the gates for you.”

What the fuck? “You murdered those guys from the bathroom?”

Riot snickers. “That’s the part you’re focusing on? For fuck’s sake. Yeah, it had nothing to do with you. They pissed me off later.”

He’s lying. I can tell by the way his throat bobs and his lip twitches. “It’s my fault they’re dead. Great.”

He shakes me. “Everything is your fucking fault, Maureen.”

I cringe at the way my name sounds on his lips. He says it like it’s a virus that can’t be contained. “So, you know all my dirty little secrets now, Riot. Congratulations. What do you want a medal?”

“What I want is for you to suffer like I have,” he roars.

“Oh, is that what your fingers were doing inside my pussy? Making me suffer?” I bite back.

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