Page 93 of Deviant

My sweet, doe-eyed Rowen.

I must admit I was a little impressed with how she showed some backbone earlier by mustering the courage to break up with Aidan. The fucker wanted anal as a consolation prize for losing our mom, and Rowen wasn’t having it.

Aidan wasn’t wrong about needing some kind of release today, though. I could do with a good fucking right about now just to release all this anger and rage. Rowen sure looked good enough to eat and spit out in her little black dress.

Hmm. Rowen, Rowen, Rowen. How come all my thoughts always end up on you?

A good fuck is probably out of the question tonight, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck with her head a little bit. And I know exactly where I can find her at this late hour.

Without another moment’s thought, I jump on my bike and race to Groves Bridge. I’m sure that’s where she’s going to be since it’s the eve of the Harvest Festival.

My tires screech to a stop when I see her sitting on the ground in the middle of the bridge, hugging her knees to her chest. The sound of my bike startles her to stand, her expression one of disbelief when I march in her direction.

“Elias? What are you doin—” I cut off her words with my hand gripping her slender neck.

“I know what you did. I fucking know, Rowen.” Instead of the expected struggle to get away from my grip, she cradles my hand around her throat, her entire body relaxing. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Her hazel eyes sparkle as if laughing at me. “Say something?!” I curse in annoyance, adding more pressure to her throat.

She can’t talk if you crush her windpipe, now can she?

I ease my grip on her, her eyes dimming the minute the threat becomes less imminent.

“Talk,” I bark in her face, my nostrils flaring angrily.

“There’s nothing to say. You already know everything,” she announces without a speck of decency to sound apologetic.

Then again, all her apologies are only good for the dead, not the living.

“You killed her. You admit it. You really killed her,” I state, perplexed by her indifference to what I may do now with such an admission.

“I did.”

My rage increases inside me just like my grip on her throat. She gasps in delight, the color of her eyes becoming even brighter when I lean her body halfway over the bridge’s rail.

“I could kill you right here and now. I could fucking throw you over, and no one would care.”

She nods, her entire body becoming complacent with my threat. Any other person fearing for their life would be in a panic, but Rowen is the epitome of cool, her breathing even and tranquil.

She really isn’t scared of dying. She wants it. Yearns for it.

“Nah. I’ve got bigger plans for you. You won’t get off that easy,” I announce, pulling her body back upright while still keeping my hold on her throat.

Anyone else with half a brain would do something, anything, to free themselves from me. But not Rowen. She wants this. More than she wants anything else in this world. And fuck do I want to give it to her.

Fuck. My cock strains in my pants at the sight of her dilated pupils and rosy cheeks. My chest is pressed so hard against her that I can feel her nipples, hard as diamonds, poking through her top.

Not only isn’t she afraid for her life, she’s getting off on this.

And considering that my cock is as hard as steel, so am I.

If threatening to throw her off a bridge is our brand of foreplay, then it’s safe to say that we are clearly—and totally—fucked in the head.

“Fuck. I didn’t take you for a masochist. Are you wet right now? Knowing that I have your life at my fingertips?” Her flushed cheeks are a dead giveaway. “Maybe I should check andsee?” I threaten, wondering how far she would let me go with this game of ours.

“I dare you to try,” she spits out, but it comes out too breathless to take her threat seriously.

“Dare, huh? I don’t do dares.I do punishments.” Her eyes light up again as if I just uttered the magic word. “For a girl who wants to die so bad, you sure look like you want to get fucked even more.” I know I hit a mark when her eyes turn more green than brown. “I guess that’s expected. My brother probably couldn’t keep up with this pussy if he tried,” I say, running my free hand over her mound.

To her shame, a low moaning sound escapes her, revealing that she has never been touched like a woman should.

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