Page 49 of Soul Of A Villain

“You realize that I can make myself come, Oliver.” She glared at him, eyes narrowed and flashing sparks. “I don’t need you to accomplish that.”

Oliver laughed. “You’ll need me for the most basic functions if I tie your hands behind your back like I want to. Let this be a warning. Do anything on your own that results in an orgasm, and I’ll spank that little ass of yours until it’s ten shades of red.”

Londyn clamped her mouth tightly, fists clenching until Oliver decided this approach was getting him nowhere. Changing his methods, he moved until she was flattened against the wall. Her breathing spiked, her pulse hammering in the hollow of her throat so hard he could see every erratic beat. It was difficult, but he restrained himself from exploring the shallow space with the point of his tongue. But fuck, how he wanted to taste her. To lick and savor every inch of her skin until she was crying his name and pulling him closer.

“Let’s call a truce, dove.” Sliding his hand along her jaw, he cupped her face. Tilting it back, he stared into her eyes. He didn’t like the tears he saw in the silvery depths, which was entirely out of character. He usually loved watching a woman cry, and in particular, he loved Londyn’s tears. “Even if it’s only for a single afternoon. Agreed?”

“Do I have any other choice?” she asked bitterly.

“You do.” His tone was husky with desire. Fuck. He was ready to go again. Something about Londyn Juliette Skye made him absolutely feral. “You could spend the day down in my basement. Tied up. Gagged. Completely at my mercy. Is that what you want, Londyn?”

She slowly shook her head as Oliver leaned in, brushing his mouth over hers. She accepted it with a sigh, frowning when he did not deepen the kiss. Her body was trembling with need. He could do whatever he wanted, and she would love it. However, with a self-deprecating nod to his fragile self-control, he let her go.

Striding over to a tall cabinet on the opposite side of his office, Oliver pressed his thumb to the biometric reader and punched the corresponding code. The door popped open, revealing an array of weapons and ammunition illuminated by interior lights. He quickly selected a semiautomatic, the bullets to go with it, and a shoulder holster. Once the weapon was loaded and secured, he glanced at Londyn.

Her anger had dissipated, leaving behind a frightened girl with pale skin and wide eyes. She stared at the gun as though she believed he would shoot her between the eyes on the spot.

Oliver shook his head, giving her an amused smirk. “This is not for you, dove.”

“Why should I believe that?” she replied, her voice as shaky as her hands as she tugged at the neck of her sweatshirt. “Why should I believe anything you say after what you’ve done?”

Oliver shrugged. “You’ve enjoyed most of what I’ve done to that tight little body of yours, so maybe you should trust me?”

A shadow of uncertainty crossed her features before her chin tilted upward in that adorable gesture of defiance. “I can’t afford to trust you, Oliver. That would be suicidal.”

A pang of something, foreign and sharp, pierced Oliver in the vicinity of where his heart once was. It was infuriating that he suddenly wanted what she would not give him. Disappointment and regret made his voice rougher than it should have been.

“You can’t afford not to trust me, little dove.”

Later that afternoon,Oliver collected Londyn from the library and picked up the basket Miss Miller hadprepared for them. Leading her onto the stone deck stretching across the back of the house, he tugged her toward the series of wide stairs and landings that descended to ground level. She dug in her heels, refusing to move forward.

“Wait,” she asked softly, eyes pleading as she resisted this pull on her hand. “Can I— Is it okay if I stand here for a minute? The sun feels so good. And the air is so fresh. Clean.” She let out a pained smile. “I’d almost forgotten how it feels to have the breeze on my face.”

Oliver cocked his head. Fuck. Her simple request twisted his guilt-filled insides. He had locked her inside his prison of a house, never considering how cruel it might be to deny her something so simple as fresh air and sunshine.

Letting go of her hand, he retreated until his backside was against the railing. He set the basket down, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched as she closed her eyes and tilted her face back to feel thesun’s warmth. Her smile did not fade as she stood in the middle of the expansive deck, dust motes floating around her, caught in the sunbeams and illuminating her. She looked like a bright woodland fairy who had landed in the middle of his dark, ugly world accidentally.

And Oliver watched, entranced by the sight of her.

Finally, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. There was such a sadness about her as she stared at him that Oliver’s breath caught in his throat.

“Okay. I’m ready now,” she said, her tone more resolute than he’d ever heard it.

Reaching out, Oliver took her hand again before retrieving the basket. He took the stairs to the forest floor, giving Londyn no choice but to follow. Blue jays and sparrows trilled and cried from the trees as the wind shifted the leaves. The sun’s rays were warm, but in the shadow of the trees, the air was cool and crisp. Once they were on the lower level of terrace steps, he released his grip, trusting she would follow him.

Londyn was silent as they moved further from the house. The trail leading to the lake was well-marked and broad enough that they could walk side by side, but she hung back, her footsteps soft on the fallen leaves that blanketed the dirt trail. He deliberately kept his pace easy and slow, knowing that she was likely still sore from being fucked two days ago. He’d left bruises from gripping her hips so hard. Bite marks along the inside of her thighs. And he’d battered his way inside her tight virginal cunt. Yeah, she was sore, but Oliver could not find it in him to feel sorry for what he’d done, just regret for the way he’d gone about it. He should have exercised some restraint. Some gentleness.

Those thoughts irritated him as he stomped along the trail leading to the lake. Along the way were several spots where large rock slabs served as terraced stepping-stones. They made the steeper areas of the terrain easier to navigate. And for miles all around them, nothing existed but woods and mountains. It was as though the house and lake had been plopped in the middle of a wilderness.

When the trees finally thinned out, the path ended and revealed a small, pristine lake surrounded by foliage and a small range of mountains in the distance. The water was clear, so clear that it reflected the sky above. It shimmered in the sunlight, bright blue in the deeper parts and a dark turquoise nearer the rocky shoreline.

Londyn let out a soft gasp when she saw the beauty before her.

“How lovely it is,” she breathed, walking past Oliver until she stood at the water’s edge. “So beautiful and perfect. It doesn’t look real.”

“You can see this lake from the living room and my bedroom suite, especially during the winter when the trees have lost their leaves. It’s one of the reasons I purchased the house.” Oliver watched as she shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand and took in the scenery. He barely noticed the beauty of the landscape. All he could see washer. And fuck, she was gorgeous like this—the breeze ruffling her hair, the sun warming her cheeks until they were a pinkish glow. She looked like the college student she was before becoming a victim of Diamond Lake Ranch and his own selfishness.

Fresh-faced. Innocent. Sweet.

---