Page 122 of Taming Seraphine

“Seraphine,” Leroi cautions from behind me.

I ignore him. If I can’t use Miko to make him jealous, then I’ll take advantage of Paolo’s last moments. Paolo swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. I want to shove the drill bit into the lump to make him choke, but I save that thought for later.

“My hands are tied,” he whispers. “If you want to see my dick, you have to pull it out.”

I return the drill to the counter, my gaze falling on the roll of knives. They’re all too big for what I have planned for Paolo, so I look through the tool set, and decide on a box cutter with a curved handle.

Leroi grabs my forearm, then leans into me and growls, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t interfere with my revenge,” I hiss.

He squeezes hard enough to punctuate his point. “Behave yourself.”

“Are you taking his side?” I look him full in the face.

Leroi’s eyes are dark pits of fury, his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t answer because that would mean telling the truth about how he really feels. Leroi is too stubborn to admit he wants me.

He releases my arm, and I turn back to Paolo with a smirk. Paolo’s breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and his face is a mask of terror. I step closer, my lips curved into a smile.

“That night, you were touching yourself through your pants, aching for your turn with Mom.”

His Adam’s apple bobs.

I press the box cutter to his fly. “Now, it’s my turn with you.”

“Don’t do this,” he croaks. “Please.”

My head tilts. “You remembered. Those are the exact words Mom said before you shoved that filthy thing down her throat.”

I don’t wait for his response because I’m already slicing through the fabric of his jeans. Paolo flinches and hisses as my blade nicks his skin.

“Oops, sorry.” I raise a shoulder. “I hope this doesn’t affect the quality of your erection.”

“You’re crazy.”

I reach into the gaping hole and grab his penis. It’s soft and limp and pitifully small. “What’s this?”

He jerks his head to the side. “Please, no.”

My fingers tighten around his flesh until he screams at me to stop. I tug and squeeze, trying to make him harden, but all I achieve are more agonized cries.

“This isn’t going to work,” I mutter, my fingers loosening. “Not like this.”

Paolo flops forward and groans, but it’s far too early for him to feel relief.

Leroi’s glare burns the side of my face as I return to the counter to pick up the drill. The weight of his disapproval pushes down on my shoulders, but I ignore him and his double standards.

“You’re probably one of those guys who can’t get off unless he’s in a position of power,” I say.

Paolo shakes his head from side to side.

“So if you close your eyes and listen to the drill at its highest setting, you can imagine you’ve trapped a screaming woman.”

“You’re sick,” he rasps.

“At least I’m honest enough to admit it.”

I pull the trigger again, and press the bottom of the drill to his penis, letting the vibrations do their work. Paolo’s screams mingle with the whine of the drill, creating a horrifying medley.

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