Page 27 of Wristlocked
I recoil, stung. Guilt and anger wash over me, shredding my defenses.
“Don’t talk about Lyot,” I warn.
“Why not?”
My monster screams, begging to be set free.
“Because ithurts.” The confession bursts out.And he’s not yours to torture.
He pulls free of his wristlock with a jerk, stalking toward me.
“You’rebeggingme to hurt you.” He trails a finger over my lips and down the curve of my neck. “Did you think I was going to half-ass it? I don’t do things that way,sweetheart.” He leans in, laying a line of fire across my cheek with the dark promise in his voice. “I will hurt you without hesitation, and I won’t be careful, or love you, or care. I will wreck your body and burn your soul doing it.Exactly the way you want me to.”
The words strip me to the bare bones of every deviant desire, a chasm of want opening beneath my feet.
“You are a sick fuck,” I whisper, but my pussy clenches and I sway into his touch. He chuckles, drawing back and taking his gravitational heat with him.
“I am. And you’re a spoiledprincesswho got into this school on your name and your parents’ money. I bet no one’s ever said no to you in your entire life.”
“Look who’s talking. Who paysyourride, Shepard?” I dig at the cracks where I’ve drawn blood before, exulting in the cold fire that rises in his green eyes. “Giving you a fancy suite in the dorms and spots in the showcase before you’ve earned them?”
“I fucking earn them.” Now his own rage is loose. Every line of his muscled frame is drawn and temptingly exposed. “Do you want to hear how?”
“I already know how,” I spit back at him.
“You don’t know shit,” he growls. “Does your daddy make you get down on your knees and suck him off before he buys you things?” The room grows brighter at the edges, lit by the maelstrom rising around us.
“My parents have been whoring me out since I was six years old,” I shout. “At least you had a fucking choice.”
His hand whips up, grabbing my throat and driving me back until I’m slammed against the wall. Sparks shatter across my vision as my head hits the plaster and pain sends a shockwave through me, dissolving my muscles and setting my skin alight. Before I can recover, his fist crashes into the wall at my temple, hard enough to crack the paint. If I could turn my head, I’d lick the blood from his knuckles and take his fingers into my mouth. He smells like the ocean, dark seas and icebergs under northern lights.
“You want to talk about choices, Gia?” My name pours from his lips like a baptism. “Answer me this, then. Why are you here?”
I try to shake my head, the question meaningless. Here at ACCA? In this room, with him? Under his hands with his body locked against mine and his hand on my throat? He trembles, caught and coiled, and the fight drains out of me with the last of my breath. His gaze is locked on my parted lips, and I can taste him in the whisper of charged space between us.
With eyes wide open, I watch him break and fall into me, his mouth crashing down on mine.
The hard metal of his piercing digs into my lips and scrapes against my teeth, erotic and foreign. His tongue is everywhere, an invasion, devouring thought. There is no dance, no give and take—justpossession, and I arch into him, seeking purchase with every surface. Heat pools in the cracks of my soul, and I grind against the hard press of his erection, clinging to consciousness.
Right before I black out, he sucks my tongue into his mouth and bites down hard, bringing me vividly back, before releasing my throat and pushing away from me. We stare at each other, our breath coming hard and urgent. My mouth is full of the same blood that’s smeared across his lips, and his eyes are dark with unanswered questions. I bite down on my throbbing tongue, shivering at the renewed sting, and he closes his eyes, an answering shudder rippling through him.
“Ditch the fishnets next time,” he says, walking away to untie the rigging and retrieve his straps. “It’s going to be weeks before we need them.”
16
Gale
“Celeste.”
She never fucking texts like a normal person, but I know better than to ignore her calls.
“Hello, Gale. I need you to be ready half an hour earlier tonight. I have something to pick up on the way to Mandalay. I’m sending the car for you at six. Please be ready when Omar arrives.”
Fuck. I’ve been too distracted the last couple of days, and I forgot all about Silas Fitzgerald's retirement party that she wanted to drag me to. Normally I wouldn’t mind. Schmoozing with the Cirque du Soleil crowd is good PR—for me as well as ACCA—and if Celeste ends up recruiting Silas, it won’t hurt to have an in with a new coach. But right now it’s the last fucking thing I want to do.
“I have rehearsal tonight,” I say, shoving down my annoyance.
“With Gia Laurent. Who, from what Luc tells me, is nowhere near ready to perform on the straps at the caliber we expect inthe showcase. I do seem to remember expressing my concerns on this matter when I approved your participation.”
