Page 165 of Under the Bed

When the pressure in my temples lessens.

When I’m feeling less vile. Depraved. Driven to express my love through pain.

Later.

The piece of black cloth, what used to be the collar of her blazer, fits perfectly into her mouth. I shove the gag deeper, my body buzzing at the sight of the black fabric stuffed between her lips.

“Mmm!”

I dip my chin, ordering her to be quiet. No, she can’t see my face. My expression.

She senses it.

“Good girl.” I seethe. “Don’t you dare spit it out.”

Her eyes glaze over. No, she doesn’t hate it. She’s aroused, her legs spreading for me. When her knees buckle, I catch her by her throat, holding her upright.

“You’re such a slut for this.” The paint bottle is cold in my hand again, warming as I lift it between us. “For being my plaything. My broken toy. You’ve been hurt by all the wrong people. All this time, they fucked with what’s mine.”

She trembles the higher I lift the paint tube.

Her fear is a drug. Her saliva soaking the makeshift gag is just as hot.

In a way, I wish she’d never feel safe around me.

“Those days are over.” I tip her face up, my thumb pushing from under her chin. “I’m taking you. You’ll never be anyone else’s but mine.”

She blinks. Submissive and gorgeous.

And I’m being a bastard, not telling her to close her eyes.

I’m being me.

Without a warning, I squeeze the tube right above her forehead. Shiloh winces as the first cold squirt lands on her. Whimpers into her gag. Stays in place. With my cock grinding against her stomach.

“I could’ve brought another mask for you.” More white paint seeps over her temples and her cheeks. Her horrified look that’s soaked with lust has every muscle in my body straining for her. “But you were so prim and motherfucking proper this morning. Going to the police station. Having that army of stuck-up lawyers trailing behind you. I loved it. I wanted to ruin it.”

She growls by the time I splash the paint over her cheeks. Dangerously close to her eyes, which she affixes on me. I thrust my hips into her.

My heart is about to jump out of my chest and straight between Shiloh’s rib cage.

I listen closely to any noise coming from outside. Nothing. The hall is silent. The rain wails, but there areno footsteps outside the door.

“Plus, a mask wouldn’t have worked for me. I have plans for your mouth.”

When I’m done squirting paint on her face, I hurl the tube to the floor. I delve two fingers into her cheek, smearing it on her. I’m aggressive, applying pressure on her face. Every touch, every paint-covered patch of skin, makes me want to bury myself inside her.

It makes her pant louder for me.

I look at her face, at the white paint covering it. At the torn fabric filling her mouth.

She’s beautiful like this.

Wrecked.

“I hope you’re ready for something bigger than the gag.”

Her muffled moan speaks to the animal in me. I fucking growl for her.

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