Page 94 of For Fillies and Monsters

The fact that she has to even ask only proves what I’ve just realized—I messed this up, not permanently, but enough to piss her off. And fuck, I will gladly spend eternity making it up to her—proving to her I know her, and love every bit of her tattered edges and broken pieces. Not with softness or kindness, but with obsession, with passion, with possession.

“Give me your monsters, your beasts. Give meyou, Gus.”

It’s the last tether on “before and after”, snapping like a weighted cord over a mountain ravine. I have no idea what waits for us at the bottom, but I no longer care. I prowl toward her, my hand snapping through the darkness and wrapping around her throat. She doesn’t need softness from me—she needs to feel the burn on her skin to match the fire in her heart. She needs an equal—a monster to encourage her own to leave their cages—and I’ve never been more ready to oblige her. “Here I was trying to make things better, to explain my love to you, and you want to act like this? To throw my words back in my face like a brat?”

My arm shakes with the need to squeeze her throat, but I refrain, knowing not to push it in that particular area. I never want to hurt her the way Gibson did—only replace those memories with ones of me,of us.

And then she steps toward me, pressing her throat tighter against my grip, flashing her teeth. I have neverseen her this angry, this unhinged, and I’ve never wanted her more. “I’m tired of being the girl who hides in the shadows, who’s loved by a shadow, who lives a shadow of the life I deserve. I want it all, I want all of you. I’m so fucking tired of waiting.”

I stare at her, my breath lodged in my throat—where did she come from?Where has she been hiding this version of herself?“Cut me, Gus, burn me, break me, but you have to make mefeelit. I’m so fucked up, and now you finally see it. I have to be fucked. I have to be connected. I have to feel this,” she points between us, her voice a shrill sound echoing through the silence of the barn, “or I am going to shrivel up into nothing. I will suffocate completely.”

Fuck, yes.

“Look at me, Stetson.” I release her neck, only to slide my hand roughly to grip her jaw. Even in the darkness, I can see the frantic look in her eyes—the only one I need to see. She’s terrified of this, but more terrified that I will leave. And so she’s jumping, in full free-fall, waiting for me to catch her.

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, could scare me away from you. I have seen everything, and not even running could stop me from chasing you. You are everything good and decent in my world, despite every horrible, fucked up thing that has happened to you.” Our skin feels like it is on fire where I grip her. “You want to get fucked? You need to feel pain to remember where your body starts and ends? Good. You have no idea how much you were fucking made for me.”

Yanking her face toward my own, I take her mouth in a vicious kiss, swallowing her cries as she clings to my shirt with balled fists. I pull her through the stall door and slam her soft, full body against the nearest beam, pinning her hands over her head.

“I want you so bad, I might die if you don’t take me rightnow.” She whispers the words across my lips, and I groan, biting and nipping at her swollen lips.

“Were you going to run from me tonight?”

She shivers, and then hesitantly nods, her confirmation sending a bolt of rage through me. “To teach you a lesson.”

“The only lesson I learned, Little Filly, is you need to be taught what happens when you run from me. Do. Not. Move.” Biting out each word, I pinch her wrists, emphasizing what I expect of her, and then step away. I watch her for several seconds, her chest heaving, and hair already wild around her face. But she doesn’t move a muscle.

I find what I’m looking for and walk back to Stetson, both happy and a little disappointed that she hasn’t moved. I really would like to punish her, but there will be a lifetime to do that.

“Tell me you want me, Stetson. I want to hear you say it.”

She eyes the rope in my hands and shivers.

And then she fucking licks her lips. “I want you, Augustus Dobbs, worse than I want to fucking breathe.”

Tying a figure eight with the rope, I loop it around her extended hands and then around the pole above her head. She pulls on her restraints a little, and then hisses, halting. I smile wickedly.

“Tight enough for you, baby?”

“It hurts.” But it’s not fear or even true pain lacing her words—it’s drunk pleasure.

“Good.”

And then I pounce, pulling the button on her jeans and yanking them roughly down her hips. I don’t waste time pulling her panties down with them. Instead, I grip the string on the side, ripping them from her skin as I have before. Leaning into her face, I place a gentle kiss on her open lips. “I’m sorry if you like this shirt.” And then I grip the neckline and rip the fabric, not bothering to pull it from her body, and ithangs jaggedly over her shoulders. I tut. “No bra? You dirty fucking slut.”

She whimpers, and I rub my cock through the seam of my jeans.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby—all tied up, waiting to take my cock.”

“Fuck, Gus, please.” She writhes her head against the pole.

Her words are my undoing. I pull my t-shirt over my head, step out of my boots, and pull my pants and underwear to my ankles. Her eyes never leave my own, her breathing coming quicker and quicker with each additional inch of skin I expose. It’s intoxicating—the hunger in her eyes.

Stepping out of my clothes and toward her, I run my hand slowly over the silky skin of my shaft. I press it at the apex of her thighs, and she quivers at the contact. She’s already so wet, her cream running down her legs, and I draw my cock through it again. Stetson squirms, and I know these gentle touches are torture, punishment enough. I drop my head to her hard, exposed nipple, sucking the bud into my mouth. She groans, and I bite her, unable to control my growing need. She cries out but does not try to pull away.

I release her nipple and suck the other into my mouth, all while thrusting my cock through her wet folds, coating my length with her cum. It drips around the hand that’s gripping my cock, and I pull away from her nipple with a pop, looking down where I tease us, thrusting slowly forward but never inside.

“Fuck, baby, look at how wet you are for me.”

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