Page 16 of Betrayal (Corrupt Empire 1)

Chapter Four

Aiden

Holy fuck did I feel like beating the shit out of something or someone. My skin itched. Pacing the living room to stop myself from going straight back in that fucking cell, I tried to tamp down my frustration. Tried and failed.

Avery fucking Daniels had successfully fucked with my head. I’d left her alone all day, not that she seemed to have noticed. I figured I’d go talk to her before I went to bed, perhaps even feed her again. Avery had other ideas. Ones that got completely out of hand.

Taking her clothes had been a stupid idea. I didn’t think. All I’d wanted to do was show her I owned her now. Instead, I’d proven to myself just how fucked up I really was. Having her beneath me, handcuffed and half naked had done a fucking number on me.

She was so soft and delicate. Too innocent. Too pure. And I wanted her. I wanted her naked. Completely at my mercy. Legs spread wide so I could fuck her.

Sick fuck.

I wanted to fuck the daughter of the man who’d ruined my entire existence. I’d always known I wasn’t normal, but this went far beyond the rest of the shit I’d been involved in. Anyone else would think it was poetic justice after what they’d done, but to me, it wasn’t justice at all. No. It was pure fucking torture.

I might want to use Avery to bring down her family, but that was supposed to be it. I wanted nothing more to do with the Daniels when this was over.

I had to do something. Anything to stop this feeling. This need to take everything from her. Make her mine in every sense of the word. Possess her.

I stripped out of my shirt, throwing it on the sofa before shucking my trousers. I walked over to where my boxing bag hung in the corner of the room. Hitting it was better than finding some randomer to take my anger out on. It was too bad Chuck had no work for me. I growled. No way I wanted to think about that sick pervert right now.

Putting my hands up, I started slow, jabbing left and right. It wasn’t enough. I hit the bag harder, using the full force of my fists until they ached and I’d built up a sweat. My entire body radiated tension and my stupid fucking hardon wouldn’t go down. It wasn’t working.

How had this happened? A fucking day she’d been here and I was all kinds of messed up over her.

It was no use. I stormed into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Kicking off my boxers, I stood under the water, hoping it would help. It didn’t. The longer I stood there under the spray, the stronger the urge became until I couldn’t take it any longer.

Slamming my hand against the wall, I fisted myself and thought about Avery half naked on the floor, her hands cuffed behind her back. Fuck. I imagined her naked in my bed. Wet. Wanting. Begging me to give it to her. Fuck. I wanted her hands cuffed to the headboard so she couldn’t stop me. I wanted her to want me so fucking bad, it hurt. Only then would I let her have it. I’d bury my cock so deep in her hot, tight pussy, she’d still feel me there for days. I’d make Avery scream.

I shuddered all over as I pumped harder. Fuck. Images of me pounding her tight pussy with no mercy sent me over the edge. I grunted when hot, sticky streams erupted from me, mixing with the water rushing down from the shower head. Washing away the evidence of my sickening desire for someone I should never want. It didn’t stop me wishing it was all over her tits rather than down the shower drain.

I needed to get her off my brain or the release would only be temporary. There was no way I could allow these thoughts to consume me in the way they had been.

The big fucking problem with that plan?

I’d seen the goddamn look in her eyes when I sat on her. When I touched her skin. The way her breath quickened and her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. The one I wanted to bite. I’d seen her just as she’d seen me.

On some level, she wanted me to fuck her.

Screw her.

Ruin her.

And she’d deny it with every breath she took.

I shut the shower off and snagged a towel, wrapping it around my waist. When I was dry enough, I stalked into my bedroom and tugged on a pair of shorts. I got into bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling. It was late and I should be tired. Instead, I was wired up to the max.

Perhaps I was still running off the adrenaline from finally exacting revenge on those sick fucks. I hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. Sleep had never really come easy to me. Not when memories plagued my dreams. If I ever saw a psychologist, they’d have a field day with me.

I needed sleep if I was going to survive another day with her. I closed my eyes. It took a while. I forced myself to take long, slow breaths and the tension in my limbs melted away. I drifted off with thoughts of her running through my mind.

l

The screaming woke me up. I huddled under the covers with my hands over my ears.

“Please, my son is sleeping, please,” she said.

“That boy is none of my concern,” the voice I’d heard so many times before replied.

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