“I-I-I’m sorry,” she stammers as fresh tears leak from her eyes.
The blood streaking her teeth matches the anger thundering through Dexter’s body. He is colored with rage, the clenching and unclenching of his fist as mesmerizing as his naked form.
“Say it again,” he demands, unsatisfied with her pathetic attempt at an apology. “If it doesn’t sound sincere this time, I’ll remove your tongue with my teeth.”
Her throat works hard to swallow at the same time my body tightens with excitement. “I’m sorry. S-S-So sorry.” The tear gliding down her purplish cheek heightens the sincerity in her tone.
I stop watching a blob of moisture slip off her quivering jaw when Dexter connects his eyes with mine. “Happy?”
His top lip twitches when I nod. He was hoping I’d say no. I should to teach her a lesson, but I’m not a monster. She’ll pay for her sins soon enough. If the blackness filling Dexter’s eyes is anything to go by, it will be sooner than expected.
“Get dressed.” Dexter jerks his head to the shirt the brunette discarded in a hurry only minutes ago.
He growls my name when I shake my head, refusing his request.
I am not wearing her clothes!
His vicious rumble simpers to a purr when I slip off the bed and head for the bathroom to gather the outfit I was wearing earlier. Some of his simmer is from me offering an alternative to his suggestion, but most of it is from my budded nipples scraping his forearm when I slipped by.
When I return to the room dressed in a baggy white tee and knee-high socks, Dexter tosses a set of keys into my chest. “Wait for me in the car.”
The brunette squeaks out a sob, hearing the words Dexter didn’t express as loudly as I did. She is crouched on the floor next to his feet, his grip on her hair enough to keep her from speaking. If she hadn’t degraded me, I might have felt sorry for her. It is a pity empathy was the first thing my father stripped from me when my mother died.
After gathering my meager possessions, I head for the door. Before I lower the handle, Dexter calls my name. “I’m going to need that.”
He doesn’t need to say what he is referring to.
The dip in his tone tells me everything I need to know.
When I spin around to face him, the brunette shakes uncontrollably. Plea after plea spills from her mouth as I slowly pace back toward them. I’m glad she’s found her voice again, but it’s a little too late for clemency. She was mean to me, and Dexter is going to ensure it willneverhappen again.
“Good girl. Now go wait for me in the car,” Dexter suggests when I hand him the razor clutched in my hand. His voice isn’t the one he used on the brunette. This is a special voice. One he’ll only use on me from here on out.
The brunette’s pleas amplify with every step I take to the door, but by the time I cross the threshold, there’s nothing but silence.
It is a beautiful noise when you have several voices screaming for attention at once.
sixteen
DEXTER
The eyes of a little lamb, the core of a warrior, and the heart of Satan all wrapped in an enticing package. Those were the thoughts I had when handing Megan the blade I used to silence Lucy’s taunt. I should have cut out her tongue before killing her to teach her how detrimental words can be to a person’s sanity when used the wrong way, but her brutal collision with the wall left me short of time—unfortunately.
From what I sampled before Megan’s big, consuming eyes secured my attention, her tongue was mighty tasty.
I didn’t take Lucy to my room with the intention of having a threesome with Megan. I wanted Megan to experience the fury I felt when she chose Nick over me, to show her what she missed out on from denying me, but she derailed my campaign in less than a second.
I expected her to pluck the brunette’s eyes out of her sockets with her nails, or at the very least, hide in the bathroom for the next several hours. She did no such thing. She blew my challenge out of the water in a way I never anticipated.
She surprised me.
My little skitzo isn’t just all shades of fucked-up. She makes me use the left side of my brain—the creative, experimental side that hasn’t been exercised in years.
If I didn’t have sirens wailing in the distance and a father demanding a virgin to hunt, mount, then display in his trophy cabinet, I’d be exercising that side of my brain right now. I’m as hard as fuck, the taste of Megan’s nipple in my mouth and her head resting in my crotch equally responsible. Just a couple of inches higher, and her pants of breath would be enough to get me off.
I suggested Megan hide because Lucy’s screams meant meddlesome guests spotted me slipping into my car where Megan was waiting. The authorities are looking for two people, so it was best to keep her hidden.
That issue became non-existent when I swapped my GTO for an old truck some geezer left idling at the gas station two hundred miles back, but since I like having Megan close to me, I made her stay.
