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He gives me a look, then shrugs and steps back. “Do what you need to do. I expect you in there with her at five.”
That’s half an hour from now—which isn’t much time, but that’s fine. I check the monitors just after he leaves and eventually find Alice sitting by the fence under the orange copse that Kane planted after Phoenix admitted to loving how the blooms smelled.
I leave out the back, hating the precious minutes I have to waste getting to her, and it doesn’t take me long to find her sitting with her back against the stone wall. My inability to communicate with her is weighing on me now, but I wouldn’t have been able to tell her what’s coming, even if I could.
She can sense something, though—it’s all over her face when she meets my gaze, and her shoulders sag. Her gaze searches my person, and I have a feeling she’s looking for weapons.
Spreading my hands in a shrug, I approach her, dropping to my knees, and I feel the soft ground beneath me made of mud and leaf rot. It doesn’t smell great, but I catch a whiff of her lavender as I lean in close and twist my fingers in her hair.
“Goodbye fuck?” she asks.
Instead of trying to answer her, I tilt her head back and watch her full lips part on the edge of a sharp breath. Her tongue peeks out—dark pink against her white teeth. She licks her lips, and I chase the wetness with my own, kissing her first gently and chaste as the need builds up inside me.
With a groan, Alice curls her fingers into my T-shirt as her legs part, and her thighs squeeze against my hips. My cock is like steel as it presses against her core where I really want to be, but I force myself to remember that I can’t have her this way. Not yet.
And I think I might actually kill Kane if that answer is not ever.
Gripping her hair, I wrench her head back, and she releases a deep moan as I bite at her thrumming pulse. I can feel the way it hammers against my tongue as I soothe the sting, and her thighs quiver harder with need.
“Please,” she begs.
Bitterness burns in the back of my throat at my inability to communicate with her and because I have no right to make her any promises except this one—that I won’t hurt her in any way she doesn’t ask me to.
Shoving her shirt up, I cup her breast, not bothering to be kind when I flick her nipple. But God, if the heat in her body and the moan tumbling from her lips is anything to go by, she fucking loves it.
That’s my fucking girl. My sweet princess, I think as I ease her back onto the ground. Pine needles immediately weave into her dark hair, and as I look down at her, she looks like some kind of forest nymph about to be defiled at the altar of Dionysus. She looks drugged or drunk with her half-lidded eyes and lips parted on a gasp when my fingers travel lower.
I know James has done this. I know he’s made her feel good. I know he’s given her the first orgasm she’s had that hadn’t come from her own fingers. I can’t give her any of those things.
But I can make her scream.
It takes me all of ten seconds to pull her leggings off, tossing them into a pile of leaves, and then I rub my thumbs against the sides of her knees as I take in her plain black panties that she’s been wearing since she got here. All I really want is to rip them off and bury myself balls-deep in her.
But I can’t.
Shoving her legs apart roughly, I pull a knife from my pocket. I see fear glinting in her eyes as I run the handle along the inside of her thigh. She’s trembling even harder now, but she makes no move to try and escape. Her eyes never leave mine as I use the blunt side, rubbing between her cloth-covered folds. Her entire body twitches when I find her clit, so I push down until she gasps and sits halfway up.
My eyebrow quirks as I see color spreading over her skin. She looks uncertain, so I rub her up and down and watch as the pleasure starts to eclipse her fear.
‘Stop?’ I mouth, signing with my free hand.
She shakes her head, and as though she’s submitting to defeat, she sinks back. My grin can’t be helped. I would give anything for a voice right now just to rumble promises across her skin. Even though she can’t understand it, I find myself using Phoenix’s language, tapping my intent on her thigh as I let the knife handle press over her hole.
I pulse it against her and drink in her sounds like I need them to live. And fuck, maybe right now, I do.
Once I have her entirely pliant, I pull the knife away. Her eyes fly open, and she props up just slightly as I turn the blade against her.
“No—”
Her words die off when I use the impossibly sharp edge to tear the fabric—and only the fabric. It falls into a wide opening from cunt to ass, and I toss the blade aside, licking my fingers before pressing them against her.
She hisses with need, her legs as far wide as she can spread them, and I sink my middle finger into her. Her pussy lips are flushed, dark and purplish-brown with just how much blood is racing to her core, and she leaks onto the palm of my hand as I bottom out inside her.
She’s so fucking tight—so fucking sweet and hot and needy, quivering around me. I add in my ring finger and curl them, and I watch her back arch. It’s so simple—but oftentimes, the simple things are what make people fall apart.
Pleasure, pain, affection, rejection.
People get too caught up in being creative that they forget the end goal is to make people bow down.
