Page 107 of Tempt Her

They want to survive like I will.

Dining on our finest china, a wedding present from his mommy, Gentry drones on about his colleagues.

It seems there are women senators he plans to fuck over once they’re back in session next week after the storm. Gentry sponsored a bill allowing convicted rapists to sue for parental rights. He heard about it in other states, and of course, he was evilly inspired.

I chew, hiding my smile, knowing those women will succeed in blocking his bill. Gentry Evans won’t be there to write any more cruel laws. I can feel it in my bones. It’s heavy like the swirling pressure outside—the law is about to comefor him.

It’s gonna be days.

I know it.

“You’ve eaten enough,” he says, dropping his empty plate on the ottoman where I dined on cocks too. “You’re getting fat.”

No, I’m getting fucked properly and so happy about it; my appetite for cocks and carbs is very healthy now.

“Told you,” I answer, “the yoga kept me fit, but you canceled it.”

He glowers at my reply, waiting too long before probing, “So whathaveyou been doing with all your leisure time?”

Fuck, his tone is suspicious.He usually doesn’t give a shit about me, but tonight I’m his sole focus.

“My photography.” It’s sorta true.

But I start sweating.

He tosses back his wine before setting his glass down. “What else has my devoted wife been doing?”

Oh shit. Does he know?

My pulse triples, making my ears ring. “The usual. Visiting my dad. Lunch at the club. Keeping our calendar.” I refocus him. “We have an invitation for Labor Day at the Middletons.”

“I have plans,” he sneers, and it slithers across his eyes—they’re evil plans.

“Then should I go for us both?”

He leans back on the settee. “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.” His eyes narrow. “Maybe I’ll finally include you in my plans. Maybe it’s time you take a trip on my yacht and see one of mytoursyourself.”

Like steps down a dark alley, where you spot a trail of blood, this is getting creepier. We’ve never been down this path before. He’s never invited me on his yacht. He’s never wanted me around his “golf buddies.”

Darkness falls over his face, and I’m used to his cruelty but pure lechery shadows his eyes. The depraved memories he must have. The vile acts he must commit.

He’s changed so much; even his twisted soul is gone.

He has none.

It’s cracking across his bones like he’s hidden his monster from me for so long, but it’s crawling out. He smiles at me, baring his fangs.

My god, I’m staring down someone worse than the Devil.

This is a demented man with a mind so sick with depraved urges; he gets off on inflicting pain. My humiliation won’t be enough for him tonight.

He wants me sobbing in horror.

Whatever he’s been up to, he wants me to join him… andnotas his beloved wife or guest.

But I’mnotone who keeps walking into a haunted house when every instinct tells you something’s wrong.

It is, motherfucker.

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