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Taking her by the hand, I lead her into the bathroom and turn on the shower, making sure the water’s nice and hot.
“Now get in the shower,” I demand, with a peck on her cheek and a slap on her arse. “See you in hell.”
I leave her room just as she gets under the water.
I’m already hard again.
It doesn’t matter what hell week throws at me, now that I’ve found the one, I know they’ll never break me.
MY DEADLIEST PSYCHOS
‘DON’T BLAME ME’ – TAYLOR SWIFT
KOOKABURRA
Fuck knows what just came over me.
I’ve always been sexually…insatiable.
The therapist I was forced to see after the woman running the foster home I was in found me screwing her husband and her sonat the same timecalled me a sex addict.
Please, if she’d tried a little double penetration maybe she’d realise why it’s so damn addictive.
Then again, if Batty Betty McGee had actually given it up to her sadist husband once in a while, maybe he wouldn’t have come looking for me. Rather me than Flo. Which is exactly why when their son started sniffing around the younger members of the home too – like father, like son – I volunteered as tribute. Sure, I was young, but the other girls were even younger, and so long as I let them do whatever they wanted to me, let them hurt me however they wanted, they were leaving the other girls alone.
That was when I discovered I love three things in this world: sex, pain and power. And using the first two to get what you want in life amplifies the third tenfold.
I muse over my history as I shower, wondering why I let Bones do all that to me. Sure, the dicking was mighty fine, but I can get good dick from plenty of people in here. I don’t actuallylikeBones all that much, even though he’s absolutely gorgeous. Dangerous, threatening, mean….my lethal combinations. His personality leaves a lot to be desired, much like Snow’s. I’m basically living inside a walking, talking, breathing, red flag museum at this point, and I’m more than ready to stock up at the gift shop with all the merch.
When I’m done, I dry off and then wipe the steam from the mirror so that I can inspect the damage. It’s minimal, but damn if the sight of the puncture wounds on my breasts and hip don’t make me throb and ache.
I’m late for therapy. The term makes me snort and shake my head. We’ve not had art therapy or group therapy for ages, and I’ve been truanting my mandatory one-to-one sessions.
Judging from the way Honey and Bones both referred to hell, I can deduce they feel the same way as me about forced group activities. The only ones of those I enjoy are the sexual kind. Hmm, maybe I can suggest to the counsellors some sex therapy or a bondage gang bang to help us grow as a team.
I pull on a short, oversized white T-shirt dress, not caring that my wet hair immediately makes the material over my breasts cling and turn see-through. My piercings look amazing, and there’s even a little blood still weeping from the cuts on my left breast where Bones grabbed it so hard. It’s seeping into the damn material and spreading like the prettiest rose in bloom.
Barefoot, I pad along the softly carpeted corridors until I come to the room where I first laid eyes on the psychos. Has it really only been a few short weeks? It feels like I’ve been here forever.
They’re all waiting for me when I step into the room, my eyes hungrily drinking in each and every one of them. There’s no denying they’re all beautiful monsters, or that the darkness in each of them calls to the darkness in me.
I like them all. I want them all. My deadliest psychos.
“You’re late.” Nightshade’s blue-black eyes are heavy lidded as he watches me walk towards him. I can see the hard press of his erection against the soft fabric of his trousers. I clench my thighs in response, feeling the rush of moisture between my legs.
“I’m sorry.” I lean down to kiss him on the lips, letting my mouth linger over his too long for politeness but not enough for desire. I draw back and see a flash of anger in his eyes before he masks it with a smirk.
“You’ve been a naughty, bad girl, Red.” His hand comes up and cups my jaw, gently stroking the skin with his thumb as he bends down to kiss my other cheek. I take the opportunity to nip his earlobe and he jerks back, glaring at me. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling like a rebellious teenager. No one controls me. Not unless Iletthem.
I lean up on my tiptoes to whisper something filthy in his ear. I’m bold with my words, but my voice is soft. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to him, so that his mouth is at my ear.
“Want to play that game?” he breathes.
“Any game you want,” I whisper back.
“Bones.” He looks at the other assassin through hooded eyes and nods. I’m shocked by the speed that Bones is able to shake off the effect, and I have to suck in a breath as his icy green gaze sweeps over me, before boring into Nightshade.
“What game?”
