Page 51 of Ruthless God

I love it when she begs me to fuck her, and my dick hardens at the thought.

“Five,” I say.

Her eyes widen, and a smile creeps onto her face.

“Four.”

Tossing the towel into the empty basket, she dashes out of the bathroom.

“Three,” I shout.

I follow her to the bedroom and watch her put on some clothes, then I go into my walk-in closet, throwing on a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. My heart hammers in my chest as I walk back into the bedroom, watching her tie her shoelaces.

“Two.”

She stares at me in awe, biting her lips, then she walks up to me, stands on her tippy-toes, and kisses me before dashing out of the room.

“One.”

I chase her.

Lyrical

The sun creeps between the dark curtains in Snow’s old room at the mansion. I roll onto my back, scroll through my IG, and a text message pops up on the screen from Winter.

Winter: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since the night you disappeared with Snow. He didn’t hurt you, did he?

Me: I’m fine. We argued and talked about it, but now we’re fine.

I had to lie to her, and I’m not going to admit that he fucked me on the ground because I know deep down what I like is disturbing to other people.

Winter: So are you two in a relationship?

Me: Hell no.

Winter: I think Snow is into you. He posts a lot of pictures of you on IG.

I leave her on read. She thinks he’s into me and maybe the world does too, but I know it’s all for show. For the arranged marriage and for him to have some claim on me, to let men know I’m off-limits.

I roll onto my stomach, exit out of the chat, then go back to the IG app and scroll mindlessly through my newsfeed page for the next few minutes, liking a few posts and stories.

For most of the night, Snow chased me around in the woods, then he fucked me the way I wanted him to. I’m not allowed to go anywhere until we figure out who was trying to kill me. Which I don’t mind, because I don’t want to take any chances of being attacked.

Why would someone want me dead? I don’t know who, but Snow is determined to find out.

Once I’m finished with my phone, I set it on the nightstand and throw on some of his old sweats and a T-shirt before heading downstairs.

The scent of bacon and syrup wafts in the air, and I hear laughter echoing from the hallway. When I make it to the kitchen, I find Snow and Keanu cooking at a stainless-steel stove while Jameson and Irvin are in the open space living room playing a video game. I make my way to the island, sit on the barstool, and pour myself a glass of orange juice, gulping it down like I’m dying of thirst. When I set the glass down, Snow turns around and eyes me for a few seconds, frowning.

“Go back upstairs, Lyrical,” Snow demands.

I straighten my spine and take another long sip of my orange juice. “No.”

“Now.”

“I said no. What have I told you about bossing me around?” I snap. “They are helping you with the person who is trying to kill me. So, I’m determined to be around them. Besides, you can’t keep me from your friends forever.”

“Yeah, let her stay.” Keanu grins. “I’ve always wanted to hang out with her.”

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