Page 71 of The Secrets That Kill

But whoever it was remained anonymous, and that stuff always has strings. This isn’t even anonymous, and the strings are almost like rope, tethering me to him.

It just didn’t feel right.

And now I wonder…what if the anonymous benefactor was Jon Trenton?

He always said he’d come for me.

I saw him once at school, right after the funerals. Then I made up a story and reported him to security.

It could have been him. The offer came in an email from a weird address. It said the person was a friend of my father’s, but no name was offered.

Maybe if I’d have taken the bait, he’d have revealed himself. He’d offer to pay for the treatment and then I’d be his in exchange. Maybe that was his whole ploy.

Although maybe I’m a little too old for the twisted bastard now that I’m in my early twenties.

I’m glad I never took the offer. God only knows how much worse things would be for me.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper.

“You can.”

I shove at Mercer but he doesn’t budge, the water just rains down over us. “You said you’d fuck me.”

“Did you just swear?”

“You lied.”

“I needed you out of there. But I did promise a reward.”

Mercer goes to his knees and holds me up against the shower with one hand as he hooks my legs over his shoulders.

He attacks me with everything he has, everything he knows that can break me.

Mercer thrusts into me, his mouth sucking on my clit, tongue playing it. Then he adds his teeth, a light scrape on just the right spot, and the aching pressure that’s half euphoria shoots all the way into a violent nirvana and I come hard, my hands fisting his hair, my screams piercing the air as I shudder against the cool tile.

Slowly he stops, then pulls out his fingers. His hands hold me in place as he gets up. He presses me hard into the wall, his cock big and hard against my quivering thighs. Holy fuck, I’ve had that giant thing in my mouth, I took every inch of it in, and now my pussy screams for it. I want him to take me, ravage me, destroy me. I don’t care about anything but feeling him in me.

I wonder if that connection will mean as much to him as I know it will to me.

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t done it yet.

Maybe that’s why he never will.

My breath hitches as the seconds tick past, anticipation building inside of me. But he just kisses me softly, then turns off the shower and gets out.

I stare at his retreating back. When I try and take a step, my knees give way, still rubbery from the orgasm. He doesn’t catch me as I slip and crash onto the wet floor. I look up, wincing at the pain of where my ass hit the hard stone. “You promised.”

“Empty fucking promise, Pollyanna. No audience. Whywould I bother?”

I recoil and push myself up. I’m beyond caring now. Fury beats hard. “You’re a bastard.”

“Got that right, Ivy.”

“But you’re hard.”

“I’m aware.” He sighs, throws a towel at me and grabs one for himself, rubbing his face and upper body with it. He grabs his clothes.

“Then why?”

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