Page 66 of Tempest

Tempest

“What about this pussy?Is it dead, too?”

My voice has taken on a grit I’m not entirely used to—thick with restraint and heavy on discomfort, as I talk to Ardyn, naked and exposed.

No man—not Rio or Hunter—was allowed to touch her during her transport into my basement. Hunter tried a little grab-ass when I hoisted her over my shoulder after Rio pricked her with his good stuff, and daddy’s boy got smashed in the face because of it.

I’m not above ruining the features of the boss’s son. If Hunter didn’t know that, he’s aware of it now. He didn’t dare try again.

We took the back-way behind the girls’ dorm to Anderton Cottage, through the woods and hidden from outdoor partiers by the thicket of trees as we traipsed on by, just a trio of dudes with an unconscious girl draped between us. We got her into the cottage’s basement with little fanfare since I threatened to bite the ears off anyone who tried to assist me in stripping her bare, then propping her up in her seat, her pert breasts on display and her (to my delight) shaved pussy spread before me. I zip-tied her ankles to the chair legs and pulled her arms behind her and tied those off, too. My dick strains against my pants as I look down on her now, but if I’m to be brutally honest with myself, it’s been hard since the moment I came up with the idea to mirror her kidnapping and scare the shit out of her. It’s only been in these recent seconds that I’ve realized I’m enduring blue balls not just to terrify her into leaving this school, but because I want her.

Her rose-colored nipples bounce with her ragged breaths. A sheen of sweat coats her skin, sparkling against the fine lines of muscle on her torso and the soft, blond hair of her thighs. Ardyn’s cascade of hair is a mess, poofing up like a mushroom top over her blindfold, which should be comical, but all I want to do is yank it out, wrap it around my knuckles, and use it as reins to ride her from behind.

I pull away from her breasts, full and ripe in my cruel hands as I squeezed and twisted until she cried out. I’m so absorbed in her—Ardyn’s scent, her body, her terror—that I forget where I am and who I’m with.

After asking about her pussy, I decide to check for myself by swiping a finger down and through.

My finger pauses at her clit. I stiffen in shock.

She’s slick. She’s fucking wet right now.

That can’t be right. Frowning at her, I dip my index finger all the way in to the knuckle, then dragging it out before plunging it back in.

Ardyn writhes beneath me, and I wait for the sobs, the familiar cries of please, stop, or I’ll do anything—any number of the last words I’ve heard since accepting a lifetime career in the Vultures—but I get none of it.

Instead, she moans.

Ardyn bites her lower lip, then arches her hips to accept me deeper.

“Yes,” she whispers.

The fuck?

Ardyn should be terrified. What is she playing at?

It sickens me to say it, as this is the one line I draw with tortures and kills, but Ardyn’s got me all twisted up. “Is this what you remember we did to you as a little girl?”

She curves her hips into my finger to get a different fucking angle.

A growl leaps into my throat before I can contain it. As punishment, I stick in all four fingers, painful for a virgin and excruciating for a dry one.

Except, she’s not dry.

Ardyn’s lips curl inward on a sharp inhale. I’ve pained her.

A satisfied smile pulls at my lips. I still have the upper hand. Not that she’d ever be given a chance to outplay me.

“Have you forgotten?” Ardyn asks, lifting her hips. My fingers grow hot inside her. She clenches around them like a perfect vise. Exactly like those suction vagina toys Hunter pretends he doesn’t play with. “I’ve spent a year in an institution. Alone. Lonely. With only my fingers for company. I’ve missed this.”

My arm jerks of its own accord. Pushing deeper into her.

She hisses in a breath.

“Careful what you say next, sweetheart.”

“I’ve missed you.”

Me? You mean the fucking piss-wipes that kidnapped you as a kid and held you for their entertainment for weeks?

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