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I’m snaked off the sink, turned around. Arms flailing, legs entangled, my hands find purchase at the edge of the sink. My fingers cling to the porcelain tile. The skin over my knuckles draws tight. My feet plant wide. “Camdyn, stop!”
A warm flush creeps along my spine. A slither melts off the glacier in my chest as his brutal hands shove my skirt up, exposing my thong and ass. Lust threads out of his mouth in the form of a groan.
“What’re you doing?” I struggle to formulate the question. Something foreign and sick inside of me begs for him never to stop. To fuck me over the way I screwed over everyone who loved me.
Fire flickers in his eyes. “Following through on your request.”
“I was . . .” All of a sudden, a tie slips around my tongue, holding it hostage. Kiss me. The thought that’s in opposition to my entire upbringing tears me to pieces. Camdyn’s lips part, crashing against mine with the force to leave my lips swollen. The cruel kiss plucks at the few seams of sanity I still hold tight to. Our tongues clash, and I moan at the forbidden taste of him. Pain, anger, disappointment, all of it has vanished.
Camdyn’s tongue strokes mine, eliciting soft moans from the depth of my throat. Euphoria swirls around us. As the last ribbon of sanity unravels, my palm unclenches from the sink and presses against his chest. “No!”
He squats down, planting an exaggerated kiss across my ass cheek. A raging river forms in my panties. In this singular second, I can’t detest my sister, nor her husband, or my dad. I can’t abhor the doctors who are incapable of waking my mother.
His demons call to the ones fighting to consume me, break me, twist me with hatred.
An electric fire ignites across my skin—a scorching, third-degree burn where his hand slams down.
“Gahhh,” I pant.
Camdyn’s gruff sigh stitches across my hips, and then his tongue trails the circumference of his explosive smack.
“Should’ve told you that I don’t kiss. Not lips or ass. It’s fecking unfathomable, me doing you all these favors. Willow, you owe me.” Camdyn’s fingers graze over the white-hot pain. He spins me around until my back slams against the sink.
I grimace. “I don’t owe you shit.”
“Kissing ass. You were the first, beautiful. And what worthy cake this is. Kissing lips,” his thumb bruised across my mouth, “the same. But I’ve made a sound investment in you.”
“How’s that?” I ask dryly. Liar. I’m not your first kiss.
Something’s fisted in his palm. I jolt when a blade zips out a fraction away from me.
Panting on air, I screech, “You’re crazy.”
“I prefer calculating. Crazy would’ve cut ye, Lolo.” He smiles, palming my cheek. “For now, I’m learning our limits. Or will you consider a safe word?”
“Our . . . us?” I stumble out.
“Yes. Me and you. Our game. Now, run along to class. Unless your ass can handle forty-seven strokes.”
Forty-seven. The odds of Camdyn selecting that precise number, the number of absences I had at my old school, is one in a million. The gleam of this sadistic fuck’s eye shouts the truth. The parasite has invaded my life. Immobilized by fear, I stare at the manipulative asshole who, in some twisted way, briefly mollifies my pain.
The warm ocean gaze forms into blue ice chips, leaving a frigid chill skirting down my spine. At the animosity in my enemy’s tone, my stomach pitches. “I SAID RUN!”
Hands trembling, all the sinew and ligaments in my legs turn to mush; however, I do what my body was made for. I run.
