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I dropped my hips to the proper angle, tilting the head of my cock to line it up. Sienna’s eyes widened as she felt me pressing at her entrance, and her arms wrapped around my back, urging me to claim her. My desire for her flared even brighter, growing more and more possessive by the second. Every muscle in my body went rigid, and I finally thrust into her, stretching her wide as pleasure ripped through me.
“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, fingernails digging into my ass so she could pull me deeper. “It feels so fucking good.”
Her muscles were starting to bear down on my cock, eliciting a rumbling groan from deep in my chest as I drove myself into her, harder and harder. She gasped again, fingernails digging in deep enough to draw blood. At the same time, her whole body shuddered, and she cried out, begging me to keep fucking her as she came.
A ragged gasp escaped my mouth as pleasure soared inside me. With one more thrust, I came. Hard. In Sienna’s perfect pussy, right here on the bed I’d chained her up to for four days.
Jesus, this was fucking insane, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to have her. Now and again, over and over. Forever.
After we’d cleaned ourselves up, I rolled onto my back, panting to catch my breath. Sienna stretched out next to me, face glowing with satisfaction. I turned my head to stare at her, marveling at her beauty and grace.
How could she possibly forgive me for what I’d done? How could she still want me?
My mind drifted back over the last few years, and I found my answer in those memories.
Even when I thought I hated Sienna, I always wanted her. Some part of me was inextricably linked with her, to the point where she was always the main focus of my fantasies no matter how much I tried to push her out of my mind. It must’ve been the same for her. On top of that, she must’ve been riddled with guilt over the feelings, because for all those years, she genuinely believed I was a killer.
She’d messed up, but it wasn’t her fault. Now that I knew the full story from her, I knew she had a very good reason to believe in my culpability.
I should’ve talked to her about all of this shit years ago instead of assuming the worst—that she was an evil, lying bitch. She wasn’t at all. It was just a mistake. A horrible mistake that almost ruined my life, but a mistake nonetheless. I couldn’t blame her at all.
I’d made a terrible mistake too. After the shit that went down in 2019, I transferred all of my rage to Sienna. But I was furious at the wrong person. Sure, she fucked up a lot of stuff for me with her accusation, but she wasn’t the bad guy in the situation. The real villain was whoever came in and slaughtered eight of my friends that night. He was the one who put everything in motion. That sick, twisted fucking piece of shit.
I leaned closer and pressed a tender kiss to Sienna’s forehead before drawing back to look at her again. Christ, she was so fucking stunning.
“Can you do something for me?” she whispered, reaching out to stroke my cheek.
“Anything,” I murmured.
“Promise you won’t turn yourself in. I can’t stand the thought of it.”
I cupped her face and kissed her again, one arm wrapping around her to pull her closer. Whatever she wanted, I was willing to do. I owed her that much.
We lay there tangled in each other’s arms for what felt like hours, simply listening to each other breathe. I never wanted to move from this spot. Never wanted to let go of my girl. She was mine, and that would never change.
Sienna suddenly sat up straight. I sat up with her, brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” I asked, rubbing her lower back.
“I was just thinking,” she said, minutely shaking her head. “This might sound kind of strange. But for all these years, despite all the trauma I went through, there was one thing that made me feel weirdly safe.”
“What?”
She bit her bottom lip before continuing. “I was so certain that you were the killer,” she said softly. “So I felt this strange sense of safety in that. Like, as long as I stayed the hell away from you, I knew I’d be fine. But now I know you didn’t do any of it. And that means I now know the fear that you, Tate, Michaela, and Justin must have felt all these years. Because the killer is still out there, and no one has any idea who it is.”
I nodded slowly, still rubbing her back. “I get it.”
“There’s something else I’m wondering.” She tilted her head. “I remember the investigators determining that the killer tossed a few things in the fire because they were covered in blood and probably didn’t want to be seen wearing them afterwards. Like their beanie and gloves. They found remnants of those in the hearth. But they also found a fragment of clothing. I wonder if that was your jersey. The one the killer stole, I mean.”
“It could’ve been. Or maybe he was still wearing it when he left,” I said with a light shrug. “We’ll never know.”
“But…” Sienna faltered and shook her head.
I sat up straighter. “What’s happening in here?” I asked, rubbing her right temple. “You can tell me anything.”
“Something else just occurred to me,” she said. A tremulous tone had entered her voice. “Now that we know the killer must’ve taken your jersey to wear… well, that means we know something else too. Something the cops would never have known, because they assumed I was misremembering stuff when I told them I saw your jersey while I was being attacked.”
My brows lifted. “What is it?”
“Well, firstly, you said you hung your jersey over the stair railing, right? Right at the top of the stairs?”
