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He leaned down so his face hovered only a few inches above mine. “You’re fucking lying. You didn’t—Alistair would never. You’re mine, Brianna.Mine.” He practically growled out that final word, as if acting like a beast would set it in stone.
I smiled. “Oh, but he did. He totally did. He’s like a whole different person when you get him worked up. And Rick… now, he surprised me. I thought I’d never see him again after kissing him at the wedding, but—”
Gareth tore the switchblade away from my neck so he could grab it with his other hand, instead. His fingers were tight around my throat, and he whispered, “You kissed him at the wedding? You kissed Rick at the fuckingwedding?”
I managed to nod, just slightly. “And I fucked Alistair in the shower. Keep up, Gareth.”
I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, and I knew I’d told him some information he didn’t know. “You’re mine,” he whispered again. “You’re not supposed to spread those legs for anyone but me. My uncle picked you forme.”
“If that’s why he picked me, why was he so quick to fuck me himself when you weren’t around?” I waited a moment before adding, “I think Uncle Alistair picked me for himself, not for you—” The hand on my neck moved to hold my jaw, his palm wrapping over my mouth and stopping me from saying anything more.
“Shut up,” he spoke with bared teeth. “Shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”
All I could do was stare at him and wordlessly tell him that I was not, in fact, lying. That everything I’d said was completely true. Sure, I’d said it to rile him up further, but that didn’t change the fact it was all true.
Gareth was slow to remove his hand from my mouth, allowing me to say, “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Alistair yourself? Or better yet, go into his office and look in his desk. He’s got a file on me. Now, tell me, Gareth, why do you think he kept that file? Now that I’m here, it seems kind of pointless, doesn’t it? Unless…”
He smirked at me, but I could tell that smirk was one of anger and blind rage. He pressed the switchblade against my cheek, whispering, “You’re awfully cheeky for someone who’s looking death in the eye.”
“Come on. We wouldn’t be here if you were going to kill me. We’d be in the pool house, where you could catch all my blood and save it for your paintings. No, we’re here because youcan’tkill me.” If you would’ve asked me, in the beginning, if I’d ever speak with such authority about Gareth and his murderous tendencies, I would’ve looked at you like you were crazy.
But that was before I tried to kill myself just to hurt him, so we were past that point, now.
“I want to kill you,” he whispered, dragging the knife down my cheek, along my throat, past my collarbone, where it then took a detour and started to circle my breasts. “I want to kill you, and I want to fuck you, and I want to kill everyone else who thought they could have a taste of you…” The tip of the blade dipped along the bottom curve of my tits before lifting to the closest nipple, drawing dangerously close to it.
The damned thing was already puckered and hard, pebbled in what I’d like to call a result of laying here naked, but I think we all knew it was for a different reason.
“You’re making me insane,” Gareth growled out, running the switchblade over my nipple and making me gasp. “When I thought I was losing you, I went crazy, Bri. I hated you for making me feel that way. I still do. And seeing Rick fuck you from behind like that… after you told me you didn’t trust me, what was I supposed to do?”
The switchblade crossed to the other tit, toying with the other nipple in much the same way, and I sighed out a breathy moan, hating that it felt so tantalizingly good. He could hurt me or make me feel amazing, or both. At this point, I’d be down for either.
Guess underneath it all, I was just as sick and twisted as Gareth.
“Did you really kiss him at the wedding?” he asked as he took the switchblade down my stomach. I nodded. “And you and my uncle… in the shower?” The switchblade was inches from my hips, and it didn’t seem like he was about to stop. How low would he go? I’d find out.
“Yes,” I breathed out the word. “I’m not lying, Gareth, so what are you going to do about it? Are you going to kill Alistair and Rick, all because you don’t want anyone else having me?” Did I think Gareth could kill both his uncles? Maybe, though it would depend on whether he caught them by surprise.
He smirked, a dark, sinister expression filling his eyes. “I just might. But first, I think I should tell you my little secret, since we’re being so honest with each other.” He’d moved his hips so he could drag the switchblade lower, and its cold metal neared my aching clit.
My inner core burned with a need, and I hated admitting that to myself. I shouldn’t want Gareth. I shouldn’t get off on any of this, but when you sat back and looked at what was right and what was wrong… we’d already long passed the point where anything either of us did was right.
The story of us was one big red flag, a book full of wrong after wrong. Why should that change now?
“After you so… annoyingly accused me of hunting down your friend, after you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me until I told you the truth…” Gareth paused, and his lips curled into a devilish grin. He pressed the switchblade down, its flat edge right up against my clit, and I sucked in a breath, unable to help myself. “Did you think I’d really stay away from you?”
The sheer venom in his voice filled me with apprehension and desire; the strangest mix of emotions I’d ever felt. I could do nothing but stare at him, waiting for him to come clean, though I think a part of me already knew.
“I had to keep taking what’s mine,” he whispered, and the hand holding the switchblade moved so that instead of the blade touching my clit, his fingers did, and he started to glide those fingers along that swollen nub, coaxing another moan from me. “So I did. I took what’s mine every single night. I made you mine while you slept, Bri. I made you come on my cock without you being conscious of it.”
My breath caught. I couldn’t say anything. Those dreams of Gareth weren’t dreams, then? They were glimpses into reality, where Gareth had snuck into my room, crawled into my bed, and claimed my body while I was too out of it to be aware of it, let alone fight him on it.
I shouldn’t be surprised. With everything he’s done, it was just one more thing on the list of wrongs he’d committed in my name.
“At first, I didn’t know you were such a heavy sleeper,” he went on. He brought his other hand down, taking the switchblade so his fingers could fully focus on my clit, stroking and pinching and egging me on. “The first morning after, I thought you’d come storming to me and tell me off, but you never did. So I came to you again… and again, and again and—well, you get the idea.”
With one hand between my thighs, Gareth’s body came down on mine, his face hovering inches above mine. “I fucked you every night, Bri. Some nights you’d say my name, but it was like you were still dreaming. I moved slowly. I made it last. You got so wet for me. Even while it dreamed, it’s like your body knew it belonged to me.”
In between jolts of pleasure from his fingers rubbing my clit, I managed to mutter out a breathy “Fuck you.”
