Page 61 of Look What You Made Me Do

With the tip of my finger, I smooth the thin strap off her shoulder. She’s not wearing a bra, so when the bodice sags, it reveals the swell of her breast and one petal-pink nipple. It puckers under my scrutiny, and my cock twitches.

She’s laid out in front of me like a fucking buffet.

I can’t even wait until she’s fully undressed. Pushing her thighs wide, I tug the crotch of her panties aside and spread her pussy lips open, touching my tongue to her clit. She moans faintly and that sound fuels the sickness inside me. I push my face deeper and stroke her soft channel with my tongue. Her hips lift up a fraction like she’s fighting the drug, her body instinctively responding to me.

For the last year, I’ve jerked off to thoughts of her so many damn times, I can’t even count. Only after Gabriel’s death did I act on the fantasies of her that ran inside my head like a fucking film reel. And now that I have her, I’m making those fantasies a reality.

That’s where the drug comes in. I knew she’d fight me initially, so I gave her just enough to keep her pliant, but not enough to completely knock her out. I want her aware of whose cock is buried inside her, making her scream.

Wyn has convinced herself that she’s a good girl, someone who doesn’t enjoy the pain that comes with pleasure. But I wasn’t lying earlier when I told her we were one and the same. I saw it in her that first night I fucked her, at her initiation.

As I eat her out, devouring her sweet honey, she moans again, and the muscles in her thighs tense. I slide my hand under her ass to bring her closer to me, my face drenched in her juices.

If I could eat just one thing for the rest of my godforsaken life, it would bethispussy. But it’s more than just wanting her body. It’s a profound and confusing need to devour her spirit. To break her and hollow her out until there’s no hatred left for me, only a hunger to be mine…

Squeezing her ass, I pull my tongue back and suck on her clit. Even drugged, she responds to that, her body twisting beneath me. Lifting myself up, my body curves over her as I replace my tongue with two fingers. Her pussy is so wet, I can barely get enough traction.

“You feel that, baby?” I whisper harshly in her ear as I finger-fuck her. She moans and moves her head from side to side. “I fucking own you. I own your body.” Her brows scrunch like she’s trying to claw her way back to lucidity. My little fighter. “Say my name,” I coach, using my thumb to tease her clit. Her hips lift off the mattress, hungry for that release only I can give her. “Say it, baby…”

“Mmm,” she moans, fighting through the drug. “Lucas, pl?—”

“That’s it,” I say, taking the lobe of her ear between my teeth and biting down. She needs a little pain with her orgasm, I know that about her now.

Pushing deeper into her pussy, I apply more pressure to her clit. Her back arches, pushing those beautiful tits into the air. Her channel clenches tightly around my fingers as she comes. The walls of her channel pulse as the orgasm takes over her body, and when it’s over, she melts back into the mattress.

With my fingers still inside her, I pull back and look at her face—her flushed cheeks, her pink lips, the dew-like sweat gathering on her temples. Her breathing is labored, but her eyesare still closed. And am I imagining it, or is there a faint smile on her lips?

Lifting off the mattress, I walk to the bathroom to clean up. I’m washing my face, the water running, when I hear a knock on my door. “Yo!” I call out. “Just a minute.”

I dry my hands and toss a blanket over Wyn before pulling my bedroom door open. It’s my brother. He’s leaning against the doorframe, looking annoyed, as usual.

“Yo.” His gaze flicks over my shoulder to Wyn on the bed. “The meeting is over. You’re wanted downstairs.”

“I’m busy,” I say. “That should be fucking obvious.”

He pushes off the doorframe and is already walking away when he says, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what this shit is about. Come on, pussy, let’s go.”

Fucking asshole.

Turning off the camera, I grab my keys off my desk, my gaze lingering on Wyn a second before I shut the door, lock it, and then follow Lucas downstairs to the study. Jackson and Ash are waiting for us, and they’ve already removed their robes. They’re the only ones in the room, which means they’ve kicked everyone else out.

Shit.This must be serious.

“What do you guys want?” I say, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone. “I’m fucking busy.”

Jackson pushes off the desk. “What the fuck was all that shit with Wyn?”

I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest. “Does it matter? Wyn is my business.”

We’re five seconds into this fucking conversation, and I can already feel my anger rising. Not because I’m being questioned—I don’t give a fuck about that—but because the topic is Wyn. And when it comes to Wyn, I’m guarded as fuck, even with the guys I’d give my damn life for.

Ash steps forward, glancing between Jackson and me. “I have a question—can we just switch our consorts randomly like that?”

My gaze narrows at Ash. “You don’t even have a fucking consort yet,” I point out. He’s been a Sacred Son for several weeks now and still hasn’t chosen one.

He flashes me a look. “Yeah, but when I do, can I just…swap her out?”

“No,” Christian quickly. “I mean, well, yes, technically. It’s not encouraged, because it ends up causing friction with the Debs.”

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