Page 14 of Ruthless God

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He ignores what I say.

I square my shoulders because I know my next words are going to piss him off. “I’m here to see Irvin.”

He cocks an eyebrow, yanks me from the crowd, and takes me to a more secluded area. “What for?”

“None of your business.” I sneer.

“I warned you to stay away from my friends, Lyrical.”

“Or what?” I challenge.

He grips my cheeks, dinging his nails into my skin. “I’ll kill him if you decide to fuck him.”

Would he really kill him? I don’t believe that. This is Snow’s way of manipulating me to do what he wants.

My cheeks burn in agony, so I push on his chest, but he doesn’t flinch. “You’re telling me who I can’t speak to, but you’re fucking Savannah.”

He completely ignores my statement as rage fills his pupils. “If I catch you speaking to Irvin, I’ll fucking kill him, Blue. I swear I will. I’ll send his head to you.”

“I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He grabs me by the hair, leans forward, and his eyes lock on my lips before he licks his. “Listen to me carefully. Your ass, pussy, and mouth belong to me, and if I catch you even breathing or looking in another man’s direction, I’ll cut off his body parts and send them to you to remind you who you belong to. You. Are. Mine.” He lets me go, and I slap him across the face.

He strokes his cheek, smirking.

The bastard actually smirks at me.

Embarrassment washes over me. “You make me sick.”

He doesn’t flinch, nor does he show any emotions. “You make my dick hard.”

His words turn me on, and I feel my cheeks heating, so I turn around and rush toward the mansion.

“I’m warning you, Lyrical, if you’re caught speaking to Irvin, I’ll slit his throat.”

Ignoring him, I find Irvin and Lilac leaning against the kitchen island as he moves Lilac’s hair out of her face, touching her chin.

Welp. My job is done here, so I leave.

Lyrical

Isit at my desk, drawing a sketch of me on my knees in front of Snow with my hands tied behind my back and his dick in my mouth.

Why do I have this weird obsession?

Better yet, why would I want my first time to be like this?

I’ve been having these types of fantasies since I was sixteen years old—since I discovered porn—and I can’t shake them. I want to speak to Lilac and ask her some questions. Maybe she feels disgusted about it as well. Maybe she doesn’t. She was confident enough to hook up with Irvin at the party. I always wanted to explore that side of myself but was too chickenshit to do anything about it. Now I’m going to marry Snow, I probably won’t be able to explore it. The way he said I was his toy turned me on, turned me on more than I’d like to admit. When we used to be friends, he never gave me any indication he wanted to fuck me, though he would flirt with me here and there, tell me how beautiful I was, he’d never said such vulgar stuff to me. It turnedme on to the point that when I got home, I touched myself thinking of him.

My phone buzzes on my desk, so I grab it to find my mother’s name across the screen. We don’t talk as much as we used to since the accident. I pushed her away due to the shame I felt of letting her down. The car accident almost ruined the arranged marriage between Snow and me. It’s been my father’s dream to have a male heir to inherit part of his share of the American Billionaire Club, but since I turned out to be a girl, he adamantly signed my life away to who I was going to marry.

I watch my phone ring, debating if I should answer, but I’m not in the mood to talk to her.

I can’t avoid her forever, so I tap the green button and hit Speaker.

“Mother.” My tone is low.

She wants me to be a stay-at-home wife like her, thinking owning my own art gallery is a waste of time, so speaking to her about my future feels like it’s redundant. In high society, women take care of the household while the men are the providers, but I feel like I can do so much more than be someone’s wife, especially to a man who hates me. My mother had this vision of how she wants my wedding to go. She’s handling all the details such as the venue, caterers, and flowers, and all I need to do is show up. I hope to God we don’t have to go on a honeymoon because I don’t want to.

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