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Dante keeps me sated in his own way. He allows me to watch, to be a voyeur, and through him and River, I find release when I need it.
I still want to hurt though. There’s nothing like seeing shimmering tears on pretty porcelain flesh. To see pouty lips wrapped tightly around my cock until tears drench rosy cheeks. I still get hard when I think of depraved acts. There is no help for me anymore. Nothing can remove what’s embedded in my mind.
If anyone else witnessed what I have, they could never be sane.
“Let’s get this meeting underway. I have somewhere to be tonight,” I tell my brother. I need to feed this desire, and there’s only one way to do it. To visit the cells. I need it like a shot of heroin to the vein.
And as we walk out the door, I feel almost normal once more.
Almost.
But I know I’ll never be again.
CHAPTER TWO
DRAKE
I’m still frustrated from our meeting only an hour ago with one of the biggest clients my father had. The man that’s next on my list. I’ve planned how I want him to die, and watching him play "happy family" with his wife tonight makes me want to rip his perfect life apart. Knowing tomorrow night, when River and I head out there again with my team I’ll get to watch his blood drip from the wounds I inflict, makes me hard.
The room I enter is bathed in darkness. I can barely see the small form of the pretty toy huddled in the corner. As soon as Malcolm died, I changed how things run in this house.
“Get up,” I bite out, my voice booming through the dark space. The girl’s small body shoots up from the mattress. She’s dressed in a thin, white cotton nightdress, and I know she’s not wearing anything underneath.
“Please, don’t hurt me, he . . . he’s already . . .” I know what she wants to tell me, but I’m not here to fuck her. I’m here to watch. I can’t do shit to any of them, and it pisses me off. As much as I want to be the monster, I can’t even do that right.
“I said get the fuck up.” My words are a low growl vibrating through my chest as I stalk toward her. Those dark eyes widen, and for a moment I’m taken back in time. To her. To Caia.
She attempts to crawl away, but I’m far too quick for her, and my fingers wrap around her thin arm. Tugging her to the edge of the bed, I lean in and flick the switch against the wall.
The yellow light illuminates her face, and I stare at her for far too long. Her eyes fill with tears when she sees me. Her lips are full, pouty, and as much as I want to feed her my dick, I know it’s not going to bring me the satisfaction I want.
“Open your legs.” My order is clear when I release her and step back. I pull the chair closer to the bed and settle on the seat. She’s still frozen in place, and I know she’s in shock that I’m not hurting her.
“I . . . I—”
“I said open your fucking legs,” I grit out through clenched teeth. When she finally obeys, I smile, noticing her smooth-shaven little cunt. She trembles before me, and it only makes me harder. “Spread them wider,” I order, and she silently submits to me. I wonder then if she’s only doing it because I’m not hurting her or trying to shove my cock in her tiny hole. “You’re a good girl.” I smile. “Now finger yourself.”
Her pouty lips part on a soft gasp that makes me throb behind my zipper. Tentatively, she moves her hand between her legs, but she doesn’t do anything further. I wonder if she’s ever done it. Surely, she’s not that innocent.
“You’ve never touched yourself?”
She shakes her head, her cheeks darkening as she watches me. Her sweet innocence is similar to that of Caia's. She may be scared, but she’s not a doormat. I love fire in a girl, her fight, and that stubbornness that only makes me harder every time I taunt her.
“Do it,” I insist, nudging my chin toward her. “Put your index finger inside. Feel your warmth.” My eyes are glued to the juncture between her thighs. Her toes curl into the mattress when her digit disappears inside her tight core.
A soft whimper falls from her lips, and my cock jolts with the need to take her, but I don’t. I never can. She continues to finger herself while I palm my dick, watching the way her eyelashes flutter on the apples of her cheeks.
“Stop.” My command has her gaze snapping to mine, her hand frozen between her legs. “I’m not a nice man.”
