Page 65 of Brutal Savior

“The term is British. Could be middle or lower cla—”

“It’s someone who knew me as a kid.” A fresh surge of excitement lights my veins, along with a vague, fuzzy memory. Pain as someone yanked on my ears, nails digging in. I touch the right one with my fingers.

Fear hits me. Harsh and irrational, like I sometimes get when I wake in the dark and can’t remember where I am. I used to have nightmares as a kid, real bad ones. I’d wake screaming to Grandad hugging me and Ruth crying her eyes out.

I asked Grandad about it once I got a bit older, but he just shook his head. “I’m sure you saw some shit you shouldn’t have, your mum being how she was. Don’t worry, my boy. You’re safe now.”

And that was that. Kids in Hackney in the nineties didn’t go for therapy. We just struggled on as best we could. After a while, the nightmares stopped. So why am I breaking out in sweat at whatever the fuck that memory was?

Quinn whoops. “Come on, we’re almost there!”

I focus on her to dispel the dark mood. She’s a splash of color. A bright light burning away the gloom. Even if she does piss me off ninety-nine percent of the time.

“Jacob? Would you like to keep going with this?”

I wrench my attention back to Hadrian with a massive effort. “Sure. Sorry. It’s just nice watching the girls have fun.”

Girls? Plural? Jesus fucking Christ, I’m spending too much time here.

Hadrian’s little smile surfaces again. “It really is.”

A half hour later, my head is swimming with facts, and Quinn is squirming more and more in her seat. I took a second to boost the vibration program, making the bursts longer and more powerful. From the look of her, it’s not gone unnoticed. She’s struggling.

And watching her wriggle about like that is having the same effect on me. It’s getting harder and harder to concentrate on what Hadrian is saying, and I decide to call it. I thank Hadrian, promise to send Quinn back tomorrow, and tap her on the shoulder. “Time to go, love.”

Her pale face has two rosy spots at her cheeks, and she’s biting her lip. “Okay,” she says, more breathy and polite than I’m used to. “Can I come back tomorrow and see Candice?”

“If you want to.”

“I do!”

“It’s settled, then. Come on.”

She says goodbye to Candice and winces as she gets to her feet. “Your arse sore from the crop?”

I make sure to say it nice and loud so she knows everyone will have heard. Her gaze snaps to mine. “Yes, actually. Thanks for bringing it up.”

“No problem.”

I see the moment the vibrations hit. Her face contorts, her breath coming out in a rush, and she presses her legs together. I place a hand on her back till it passes. She walks forward, legs wobbly.

“Fucking hell.” She mutters it under her breath then looks up at me, eyes wide. “That wasn’t me swearing at you. Just swearing in general.”

“I see. Thanks for pointing it out.”

The cold air is a relief after the oppressive creepiness of Hadrian’s lab. The odd mood has followed me out here, but I have an idea what will take it away for good. Suddenly impatient with Quinn's careful steps, I snatch her up and throw her over my shoulder again.

“Jacob! My skirt!”

It’s ridden up, exposing her. I ignore her pleas, reach my hand up, and slide it over the hot, soaked mess of her pussy. “Fuck me, Quinn. You’re drenched. Did you leave a wet patch on Hadrian’s chair?”

I find her poor neglected clit and rub my thumb over it whilst she wriggles and whines. “People can see! Jacob!”

She’s protesting, but her voice is high, her body has stiffened up, and her breathing has grown ragged. My little brat is so deprived I can feel her desperation. And I think there’s a part of her that likes the excitement of maybe getting caught.

Instead of carrying her back to my room as planned, I take a detour into the woods. We pass a couple of Brothers deep in conversation, but they don’t spare us a glance. I head off the path, into the wildest part of the Compound, where the trees are allowed to grow as they like. Important for conservation, apparently. But it serves my purpose well.

I keep the pressure on her clit, and soon, she stops protesting, instead making pained little moans that shoot directly to my cock. She’s panting as I come to a halt in a relatively secluded glade. We probably won’t be disturbed, but a dog-walker or adventurous jogger might stumble into us and get a shock.

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