by E. M. Snow
My jaw drops and my stomach bursts with anxious butterflies.
Is it Jasper? It could be Jasper. Maybe he came home looking for me. No, wait, that wouldn’t be right. He knows I’ve been with the Townsends. Some of his belongings are still here, though, so maybe he’s looking for something he left behind? That would be logical, right?
Clearing my throat, I hesitantly call out, “Jas-Jasper?”
Whoever’s out there stops moving and a deafening silence fills the house again when they don’t respond.
Shit.
I don’t think it’s Jasper.
Gripping the jewelry box tighter in my hands, I take a step away from the door. The next moment, it bursts open, and I swing the box with a scream. I aim high and connect with a solid form. The person releases a startled shout and then drops to their knees.
“What the fuck?”
I freeze, recognizing the pain-laced growl.
“Phoenix?” I gasp. Then, more frantically, “What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I thought you were a robber, or a rapist—”
“Would you shut up?” he growls through tightly clenched teeth.
I open my mouth to shoot back a retort, but before I can force any words out, he suddenly slumps forward, his head pressing against my legs as he goes unconscious.
23
“I didn’t try to kill you. You’re being such a baby.”
Phoenix growls something incomprehensible under his breath, but I just roll my eyes and continue bandaging his head. We’re back at the Townsend mansion, specifically in the guest cottage where he lives, which is more extravagant than most people’s homes. I haven’t had much time to take in my luxurious surroundings, though. Now that I’ve got proper supplies, I’m replacing the makeshift bandage I bound him with at my house. He’s got a decent gash on the side of his head, though it’s not deep enough to need stitches, thank God.
I can only imagine how big of a man-baby he’d be if that had to happen.
“You tried to bash my goddamn head in,” he says, shooting me a dark glare. “How is that not trying to kill me?”
“You could’ve announced yourself. I know you heard me because you stopped moving when I called for my brother,” I reply sharply. “Instead, you creeped around my house like a burglar. What else was I supposed to do? Lay spread out on the bed to await my murder?”
“I would have preferred that. You spread out and waiting for me.”
“Quit being gross,” I counter, but an all-too-familiar sensation pulses between my thighs. I finish wrapping his head and press a little harder than necessary to seal the bandages. He snarls out a breath, and I just keep myself from smirking. Serves him right, the asshole.
I grab up the supplies and return them to his bathroom, leaving him sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and I’m doing my very best not to notice that fact too much. Once I’ve put everything away, I wash my hands and make my way back out to him. He glares at me a moment before jerking his gaze away.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I say, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hit you. I honestly didn’t know it was you.”
“Shut up,” he growls, and I suck in my cheeks in frustration. Here I am making a genuine apology because I feel bad for nearly giving him a concussion, but he’s such a dick, he can’t act like an adult for five fucking seconds.
Slowly, I start, “Look, Phoenix, that TikTok video—”
“I said shut up.” His harsh voice cuts me off, but he finally decides to look at me. His tone and attitude are really starting to piss me off, though.
I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “What now? Why are you acting like I cheated on you? We’re not together. We’ve never been together. Why do you care if I’ve been with someone else?”
Even though I haven’t. Even though I lied. Even though I stopped Alaric’s hand as he was inching it under my shirt all those months ago and told him the truth—that I was a virgin.
“I don’t give a shit if you’ve been with someone else,” he replies, sounding defensive. “I just didn’t realize you were so well-acquainted with my family already.”
I roll my eyes. “My God, nothing happened with Alaric, all right? I told Margaret that just to get her off my ass. She was being a pain about my…” I trail off, and his thick eyebrows shift up. Clearing my throat, I continue on, adjusting the topic slightly, “I didn’t even know who any of you were back then.”
“I don’t like that he’s touched you.” He sways a moment, which makes me nervous, but then he continues, “And don’t try to convince me nothing happened. I see the way he looks at you. The fucker is pussy-whipped.”
“You’re such a dick. Have you seen the way he pretends I don’t exist? Or do you remember that you personally pointed out that he’d rather chop off his own did than deal with me?” I hiss. At that moment, though, he collapses backward onto his elbows. Without thinking, I rush forward and grab one of his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
He grabs my arm, startling me, and yanks me closer so our faces are just a breath apart. My pulse quickens.
“Since Alaric got a taste, do I get one, too?” he demands in a low, hot, angry voice.
Well, that’s enough to totally ruin the moment.
“You know what? I’m done here.” Yanking my arm from him, I turn to storm off, done with his bullshit, but he grabs me by the hips and whips me back around. The next thing I know, I’m straddling his lap, my hands on his naked shoulders, staring down into his eyes.
My lips part and my heart races. We don’t say anything for what feels like forever, the tension so thick between us, I think it’ll suffocate me.
I was doing so well before, not looking at his bare chest, but it’s hard not to take in the hard muscles under his smooth, tan skin. It’s getting harder to breathe. I want to run my hands over him, feel every ridge and bump, until I reach the trail of dark hair below his belly button. I realize I’m ogling him, but I can’t make myself stop. Suddenly, his hands tighten on my hips and adds the barest amount of pressure to pull me tighter against him. I feel his hardening erection between my legs.
If I wasn’t wet enough already, I’m soaked now as I feel the length and thickness of him through our layers of clothes. Shame makes my cheeks burn. Damn it…I want him. I want him to touch me. To kiss me.
It’s sick. I’m sick. This guy gets his kicks out of tormenting me, yet something dark and twisted deep inside me craves him.
“Careful, Luna,” he says in a soft growl. “The way you’re looking at me is giving me ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?” I can’t help but ask.
He moves his hands around to grip my ass and grinds me down against him. I gasp, my core clenching with need.
“When was the last time you had a dick inside you?” he asks, his words crude and harsh, and yet somehow turning me on even more.
“That’s none of your business,” I snap, though I can’t stop myself from flexing my hips ever so slightly, just to get a little more pressure against my clit.
“I bet you look hot as fuck when you’re coming,” he murmurs. Then, his grasp on my ass tightens to an almost painful degree. “You won’t let anyone else see you like that, or I swear to God, I’ll start literally busting balls.”
I shove at his shoulder but still don’t try to get up as we continue to slowly grind against each other. “You don’t have any right to order that. You’re not—”
“I’m whatever I want to be,” he breathes against my mouth. “And you’re supposed to obey.”
I shiver at the idea of him punishing me. There is definitely something wrong with me. None of this should be making me hot, and I need to get a grip, before I do something I’ll most definitely regret.
“You’re such a bastard.”
“And you’re a lying bitch, Luna.”
“Likewise, Townsend.”
He smirks. “Who do you think about when y
ou touch yourself at night? Me? Or my cousin? Maybe even both? Tell me, Josslyn, what filthy thoughts go through that beautiful head of yours?”
My cheeks heat with instant mortification as I instantly recall touching myself to him just last night. He couldn’t know I’ve done that, right? His question is just a coincidence, but it flusters me all the same.
“Neither,” I finally manage to bite out. I find the strength at last to push away from him, scrambling off his lap and out of his hold. He looks like he’s going to object, strongly, but I beat him to the punch. “This was a mistake that won’t be repeated.”
I turn and hurry out the door before he can respond and head across the lawn for the main house. I think I’m in the clear once I’m inside and halfway up the stairs, but then I hear the front door slam closed. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that he’s coming after me.
Clenching my jaw, I finish climbing the stairs and march down the hallway, determined not to look back at him again. He doesn’t say a word as he stalks me, but my heart begins to race again, and I feel very much like prey trying to strategize how to get away from him.
Which is what I want. Totally. I do not want him to catch me. Absolutely not.
He maintains a steady pace behind me, and I can’t figure out what his strategy is, which is really nerve-wracking. Is he going to speed up suddenly and catch me? Try to corner me? Is he just going to keep following me around and freaking me out because he thinks it’s funny?
That last thought probably has more merit than I’d be willing to admit out loud.
Maybe he’s not following me at all, and we’re just walking in the same direction? It’s a big house with multiple people living in it. Who’s to say I’m the sole focus of his attention?
Biting my lip, I decide to test that theory. The library doors come up on my left, and I pause long enough to open them and slip inside. I make my way deeper into the room, my ears perked for the sound of the door opening. When I don’t hear anything for an extended amount of time, I pause, surprised. Was my theory right after all? Damn, I’d just made that one up.
The next moment, however, I hear the library doors open and then shut again with a decisive click. I slip in between two bookcases, pretty much hiding from him like we’re playing a fucking game. I listen as he moves through the room with steady, soft steps.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to pass my hiding spot so I can make a dash for the door. Soon, I see him moving through the shelves. He doesn’t appear to notice me, and when his back is turned, I dart out from among the bookcases to rush at the doorway.
A yelp escapes my lips when thick, strong fingers wrap around my upper arm and yank me to a stop.
I look back over my shoulder to find him smirking.
He pulls me around so that I slam against his chest. My fingers instinctively grip the t-shirt he must have shrugged on before deciding to follow me. The next second, my back is pressed up against the shelves behind me, and Phoenix is looming over me.
“What are you—” He cuts off my breathless question by pressing hand against my mouth.
“You talk too fucking much,” he growls. Then he slides his hand to my jaw and tugs at my lips with his thumb.
My breath rushes from my lungs when his other hand lands on my thigh. I’m still wearing my uniform from school. I was too preoccupied with driving him back to his house while he was bleeding from his head, then rebandaging him to bother to change my clothes. My plaid skirt isn’t going to do much to deter him as he begins to slide his hand upward.
I whimper, but he shakes his head.
“Not a word,” he orders. “The only thing I want to hear coming from this mouth is my name, got it?” For some baffling reason, I nod. He smirks. “Good girl.”
When his fingers brush against my panties, I jump, the sensation sending a jolt right through me. He doesn’t give me a second to gather my bearings, though. Pushing my panties aside, he runs his finger through my folds. I gasp and he grabs my jaw, tilting my head back against the bookshelf. He is not being gentle. This is not romantic. He doesn’t try to kiss or coo sweet words in my ear as he begins to stroke me. Because of where he’s positioned my head, I can’t even look at him. All I can do is stare at the ceiling and take what he’s giving me.
And I want it. Dear God, I want this.
He runs his finger up and down my pussy before stopping to tease my entrance. I bite my lip to keep from making noise, but it feels so good. No one has ever touched me like this before, and it’s way different then when I touch myself. The feel of someone else’s touch—not know what he’s going to do next and having no control—should freak me out, but I’m reveling in it.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he hisses. “This is for me, Luna. No one else gets to touch you like this, do they?”
I’m putty in his hands at this point, so I nod eagerly, not wanting to do anything that might make him remove his fingers from me. He removes his hand from my jaw and lets me lower my gaze.
“Say it,” he orders. “Say you’re mine. Only mine.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, trapped by his smoldering green gaze. “Only yours.”
As if to reward me, his thumb finds my clit. I cry out, my hands flying up to grip his muscular shoulders as he simultaneously slips a finger inside me. Oh, my God! His finger feels so thick, and it’s warm and alive. It makes me think of what else he could be putting inside me, and my already hot body begins to burn.
“Phoenix…” He’s pumping his finger in and out of me faster and faster. It’s rough, almost painful, but it also feels amazing. “Oh God—”
“You’re fucking tight. I can hardly fit one finger inside you. Make it tighter. Squeeze your pussy. I want to know what it would feel like to have you wrapped around my dick.”
The fact that his harsh words only turn me on more is testament to how messed up I really am. I just don’t care, though. I contract my muscles around him and the animalistic sound that bursts from his chest almost sends me over the edge right then and there.
“Come for me, Josslyn,” he demands, and I let out a desperate little sound because it nearly unravels me when he calls me by my first name. “Come on my hand. I want to watch your face and see what you look like when you lose your mind.”
He moves his hand even faster, the wet sounds coming from my sex practically ringing in my ears. I’m close. So, so close. I just need that extra push, that little bit of stimulation to get me there.
Suddenly, he lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Do you know how badly I want to fuck you in this uniform. To bend you over a desk in the middle of school and own you? I want everyone to see it, too, so they know exactly who it is you belong to. I won’t let you go, Luna. Even after this is over, you’ll still be mine.”
That does it. It’s not the stimulation I expected to get me there, but the image he creates with his words is so dirty and depraved and hot, I tumble over the edge with a desperate cry. My orgasm rips through me relentlessly, but he doesn’t let up, not until I’m a shivering mess. When I come down from my peak, floating back to earth, he slips his finger out of me. I wince, feeling tender, but I can’t stop my thighs from clenching with want when he slips his finger past his lips and sucks my juices clean.
I’m panting, catching my breath as my mind tries to catch up with what just happened between us, but he’s already turning to walk away from me without a word. What the fuck? My first instinct is to reach out to stop him, but angry pride keeps me from touching him and appearing desperate. Still, I’m not ready for him to leave. I didn’t expect us to cuddle, but goddamn it, there should be some sort of exchange between us after what we’ve just done.
“Why did you come looking for me tonight?” I manage to ask, blurting the first question I can think of. I’m genuinely curious to know his answer, though.
He stops moving away and glances back at me, running his eyes from my head to my toes. Heat flashes in his gaze, which makes my whole-body tingle.
At length, he finally answers, “Because you can’t run from me. Because my enemies are your enemies.”
Enemies? I don’t like the sound of that. Does he mean Kallista and Margaret? That would make the most sense, as it was my blowup with Margaret that sent me running to my grandma’s place. Something doesn’t feel right about that idea, though. Phoenix doesn’t usually pay attention to petty high school bullshit like that unless it amuses him somehow. But if he didn’t mean either of those girls, who is he talking about?
“Is there someone I should be afraid of?” I ask, not willing to let the subject drop.
Phoenix, however, is apparently done talking to me. He gives me a tight smile that seems wrong on his face. As if he hasn’t tried to smile in so long, his facial muscles forgot how to make one. He doesn’t say a word, though, and before I can press him further, he turns once more and stalks out the library door.
24
The next morning, as I make my way down to the kitchen to grab breakfast, I’m in a daze. I can’t stop thinking about what happened between Phoenix and me.
Well, more accurately, I can’t stop thinking about him, period.
I feel like some kind of shift has happened between us. I can’t really explain it, because his leaving me without a word seems to indicate nothing at all has changed, but somehow, I know it has. I feel it, deep in my gut. The real question is, what the hell do I do about this change? Do I embrace it and see what happens, or do I ignore it because, at the end of the day, Phoenix Townsend is still Phoenix Townsend.
He’s not a good person, and I really shouldn’t want to be with him. Or, hell, even around him.
So can’t I scrub him from my thoughts?
When I reach the kitchen, I find it empty, which is just as well. My brain is too frazzled this morning to have a decent conversation with anyone anyway. I start digging through the cupboards to get everything I need for my bowl of cereal and try to push Phoenix from my mind. At least, long enough that I can eat in peace.