Page 52 of Fear Me, Love Me

I hold out my hand to her. “Come up to the house. Barlow misses you.”

17

Vivienne

I’m walking hand in hand with Tyrant through his labyrinth. This must be a dream. I fell asleep in the boathouse and my mind conjured up the horniest, most improbable thing it could imagine. Any moment now, I’ll open my eyes to find a fully dressed and sneering Tyrant standing over me and telling me my time is up.

He stops when he reaches the front door of his mansion and turns to me, and the expression on his face is anything but sneering. He cups my face and kisses me.

I’m a slippery mess inside my underwear. He helped me put them on, but now his cum is slowly oozing out of me.

I slept with Tyrant.

I slept withTyrant.

This is too crazy to comprehend, and I don’t understand how it happened, but right now I can’t process anything because Barlow is here. I’m going to get my brother back.

“I’ve made it to your house before the time limit is up. If I go inside, it means I win.”

“I think we fucked the rules away, angel. But sure, you win.” He grasps my hand with his huge, strong one, and draws me up the steps and inside his house.

There’s a grand entrance hall and a sweeping staircase. Tyrant takes me upstairs and along a hall. I peep into bedrooms, sitting rooms, a security room with CCTV monitors, and then finally a bedroom with a changing table, baby paraphernalia, and a bassinet.

In the bassinet, sleeping soundly and being watched over by an older woman in a maid’s uniform, is Barlow.

I gasp and rush over. My brother looks even more adorable and peaceful than he ever has before. I want to pick him up and cuddle him, but I also don’t want to wake him up.

“You can go to bed now, Angela. We’ll take the baby to my bedroom,” Tyrant tells the woman.

Angela nods and gets to her feet. “Thank you, sir.” She casts only the merest glance in my direction without an ounce of judgment in her eyes, but my face turns red as I realize I’m wearing nothing but Tyrant’s shirt and there’s probably grass sticking out of my messy hair.

We’ll take the baby to my bedroom.Wait, does that mean—

Tyrant grasps the handles of the bassinet with one hand, me with the other, and walks us both out of the room and down the hall. He sets the bassinet on a desk by the window while I gaze around the room. At the enormous bed. The walk-in wardrobe off to the right. The man seems to love his clothes.

“I think he’s waking up.” Tyrant turns to me, moonlight burnishing his bare shoulders and tattoos with silver. “What are you waiting for? Pick him up.”

“Really?” I take a hesitant step toward Barlow, hope swelling inside me. This feels too good to be true.

Tyrant folds his arms across his chest and watches me. In the bassinet, Barlow stirs, rubbing his little hands against his chubby cheeks and opening his eyes. My heart lurches, and I can’t hold myself back any longer. I reach for Barlow and hold him tight in my arms.

I rock him back and forth, happy tears crowding my lashes. “Hey, baby boy. I missed you so much.”

His diaper feels dry, and he’s wearing a new romper with baby owls on it that I don’t recognize. Should I thank Tyrant for taking such good care of Barlow? Or should I feel angry that he stole him in the first place? In Tyrant’s room with Barlow in my arms, I have my brother all to myself for once. Tyrant wants me to hold him. I can tell that from the intense feeling in his eyes. No one is going to tell me I’m in the way or resent me for spending time with him.

I keep rocking Barlow in my arms until he falls asleep. When I glance up, I see that Tyrant is still staring at us with hungry eyes. Devouring me. Like he can’t get enough of how I look and he’s about to snap and do something crazy.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whisper.

Tyrant takes a sleeping Barlow from my arms and puts him carefully back in the bassinet before pulling me into his arms and slamming his mouth over mine. His kiss is wild and hungry, and he pushes his tongue into my mouth at the same time he yanks his shirt from my body.

“Angel,” he says between kisses. “I need to fuck you again. Are you sore?”

My nipples brush against his chest, and suddenly I’m even more turned on than I was in his labyrinth. We can’t have sex again so soon, can we? Apparently we can because Tyrant’s cock is hard and pressing against my belly, and my core is aching with the need for him to sink every inch of himself inside me.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel sore.”

He slides two fingers straight up inside me, and I see stars and moan his name. If it hurts, I can’t tell because being filled by him feels so incredible.

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