Page 62 of The Hand that Frays

I know it’ll always be like this with him. It’s just how we are.

Until the day someone puts an end to us, we’ll be the Butcher and his wife, floating in the insanity together like a storm cloud through the humid sky, gaining new life from the heat and electricity charging the air.

Living for the moment that lightning burns our souls.

His hand slides down the front of my pants and finds my core, and I break our kiss, locking eyes with the killer that has become my husband as he grins and swirls over my clit.

“Now, are you going to be my good girl tonight?” he asks, sitting up further to angle his hand down my pants as he moves toward my entrance.

I cry out and find his shoulders with my hands, hoping to any god who will listen that he doesn’t feel like punishing me for anything.

There's always a need right at the surface, begging himto satiate it, but right now it's consuming me whole, and he’s the answer to what ails me.

“I’ll be your good girl,” I whisper as he angles his arm further and sinks two fingers inside my wet heat.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I let my head fall back as I clutch his shoulders tighter.

My pleasure is up to the Butcher of Crows Hollow, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NEO

Ipeel myself away from her lips—because that’s the only way to resist sinking into her mouth and staying there for the rest of the fucking night—and she whines like I’ve taken away her pacifier.

I can’t help but chuckle darkly at the notion.

“Up.” I tap her on the sides of her thighs after taking my hand out of her pants. I know I smell like her, but I refrain from inhaling her scent too deeply, lest I get too transfixed to play with my stupid girl how I want to.

Worry floats in her eyes, but she listens.

Searching for something to lay her on, I find an ottoman at the end of a chair near the television set.

Pulling it away from the chair, I pat the top. “Take your clothes off and lay down on this. On your back,” I tell her.

She furrows her brows the slightest bit. Despite that, she listens.

She said she would be my good girl tonight, and I might as well take advantage of it.

Her body splayed over the ottoman is a fuckingsight.

I stand back and take her in as her breathing speeds. I’m sure her mind is reeling, wondering what I will do to her.

Moving to the closet where we’ve stowed our things, I find my bag.

The one I take with me when we’re working.

It takes a minute to rummage through all its corners in the dark closet before I find what I’m looking for.

Ropes.

“Neo,” Lyla says, warning in her tone as I approach her with the ropes in my hands, but I only grin.

“You said you would be my good girl, right?” I ask her.

“That was before I knew I was going to become your victim.”

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