The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  I accepted.

  I wanted.

  His hands caressed my spine and ass, massaging me, spreading me. His touch slid to my tattoo and scars. “This goddamn ink. These awful scars.” His heady groan made me shiver as he dragged his nose along the base of my back. “To think of you hurt—” His teeth snapped together, silencing whatever else he wanted to say.

  His fingers kept stroking my tattoo, running along owl feathers and ostrich plumes. His touch wasn’t gentle, more like a fiery brand flaying me alive. “You’re not safe with me,” he hissed. “I’m putting you in danger.”

  My teeth bared in frustration, leaning back into his control. “I don’t care.”

  “I care.”

  “Just finish this, Gil.” A full body clench made me beg. “Please.”

  “Tell me to stop.” His breath scalded my back as he reared up behind me. “Please, God, tell me to stop.” His thighs met mine. His heat burned me. His cock wedged against my ass as he grabbed my hips and ran his length up my crack. “Tell me. Fuck, tell me.”

  My head hung between my shoulders. I dug fingers into the floor, rocking backward into him. “I won’t.”

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I haven’t been with anyone in...a long time.”

  My heart squeezed. “Neither have I.”

  “I...I won’t put you at risk.” His teeth chewed the words as if conversation was getting harder and harder to manage.

  “Me either.” I rocked again, gasping at the temptation of having him so close to taking me.

  “You’ll regret this in the morning.” He groaned, pulling away and lining his cock up with my entrance. “I tried to warn you. Too bad you didn’t fucking listen.”

  He thrust.

  He entered me.

  He split me in two, condemned me, consumed me, sank deep, deep inside me.

  My arms buckled at the overwhelming euphoria of having Gilbert Clark—the boy who I’d dreamed about, cried over, wanted, and needed—finally fill me like he was born to do.

  The world spun on its axis, blending colours, bleeding futures, hurling us together.

  Gil snarled as he withdrew and thrust again. “Why do you have to feel so good?” He drove himself as deep as he could go. His voice traded human for monster. “Why the fuck did you have to come back into my life?”

  My tongue was too tangled and useless for words. I was nothing more than sin and sensation, riding him, tempting him, encouraging him to ignore boundaries and tear me apart.

  I needed him to fuck me.

  Truly, aggressively fuck me.

  Gil pulled back, then shoved into me so hard, I scooted forward. The sweet bliss of being entered, expanded, and owned sent another depth to the orgasm building in my core.

  “I can’t believe I’m inside you,” Gil grunted. Driving into me, he set a punishing pace. He eradicated all space between us, his thighs rigid and slapping against mine with every impale. “Can’t believe you’re here. With me.”

  My pulse shot skyward as I arched my back, giving him unfettered access.

  “Fuck, don’t.” He bowed over me, biting my shoulder as he drove every inch inside me. The broken despair in his voice knotted with breathless wonderment. As if he’d spent his life, just as I had, trying to understand the compulsive connection between us.

  It’d gone past teenage crush. It’d grown even while apart.

  No words could describe our strange bond. No common sense could understand why I felt the way I did about him but wanted him to use me so completely.

  Gil’s fingers dipped between my legs.

  I teetered on my knees as he rubbed my wetness around my clit.

  “Holy mother of—” I moaned as his touch sent more pressure gathering inside, suffocating me, hurting me to let go.

  I soared my ass back, driving him so deep his tip hit the top of me, and we both groaned like animals.

  I didn’t recognise myself.

  I didn’t recognise him.

  All I knew was I had to come. Again. Now. Immediately.

  Gil grabbed my hips, hauling me higher so he could thrust at a different angle. Each drive, he hit me in the most perfect, piercing way.

  I jolted, unable to bear it. “Gil. God—”

  “Don’t move.” He pulled me back each time he dived forward. No space. No gentleness. “I’m going to fuck you, do you understand?”

  My eyes rolled at the dripping darkness in his tone.

  Didn’t he realise he was already doing that?

  “I’m going to fuck you and then you’re walking out that door and never coming back.” The lace of alcohol in his tone didn’t slur but added a cruelty that only sent more fire into my already bleeding need.

  “This is the first and only time.” His voice was an aphrodisiac as he bent over me, pressing me into the floor as his hips worked hard and fast. “Once.” His forehead crashed on my spine as if convincing himself that we could walk away after this. “Just once. That’s all this can ever be.”

  His nails imprinted marks into my flesh as he clawed to get closer. His own words terrifying him into harsher aggression.

  I didn’t bother replying. I focused on clutching at the floor and giving everything I had.

  “Jesus Christ.” Gil wrapped a hand around my loose hair, forming a messy ponytail. He rutted into me, staying true to his word to use me.

  With a jerk, he yanked my head back, arching my spine, plunging inside me with a roar.

  Deep.

  Hard.

  Bestial ownership.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but he clamped a hand over me, riding me, containing my cries. “Quiet. He can’t know you’re here again.”

  He thrust quick and dominant.

  I didn’t know this Gil. No remnants of the teenage boy existed. This man was lethal and I came apart for him. I transcended human form and felt him on a feral level. There was no beginning or end. No choice or conclusion. My orgasm could no longer be denied, working its way up my belly into my spine and teeth. The swirling, twisting warning was my only hint before I shattered outward.

  I combusted with pleasure.

  I plummeted into pulses.

  My entire body contracted and melted.

  Gil followed me.

  His thrusts grew shallow and fast, dipping into me with a single-minded purpose.

  He came with an unbearable noise of heartache and suffering, making tears prick my eyes. His release lasted a while, drenching me with heat.

  His body twitched and jerked, his breath short and sharp.

  Slowly, our haze receded, depositing us back into the living. My knees screamed and wrists bellowed, and Gil’s cock still rippled inside me from his orgasm.

  Piece by piece, cell by cell, we returned to our bodies and a chill cloaked me as Gil pulled out and stood.

  He stumbled as if the vodka in his system returned full force, making him drunker than before. He didn’t bother scooping his clothes from the floor. He just walked naked into the kitchen.

  There, he yanked open a cupboard and ripped a glass from the shelf. He poured himself a drink from another bottle of vodka stolen from his pantry. Only once he’d shot the liquor down his throat did he look at me sitting dishevelled and used on his floor.

  Our eyes met.

  Our souls said goodbye.

  I forced back tears as he said, “Get dressed. I’ll walk you out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  ______________________________

  Gil

  -The Past-

  “MR. CLARK, PLEASE stay after class.”

  I stiffened at my desk as Ms Tallup pinned her grey eyes on me. Olin twisted a little in her seat to look at me, but I shook my head slightly, hiding any sign of the trepidation inching down my spine.

  Olin would wait for me to walk her home. I had no doubt about that.

  It’d become a tradition. Just as it’d become tradition
for her to slip me painkillers if my father had been particularly ruthless with his fists. Just as it’d become the norm for her to bring baked goods and hide money in my backpack so I could eat regularly.

  She looked after me as much as I looked after her, and it made my heart suffocate with pain. We were in a relationship. A family-ship.

  Yet, I still hadn’t kissed her.

  I’d been sure only to touch her platonically.

  I bit my tongue on what I truly wanted to tell her.

  How much I truly cared.

  Since the pancake revelation a month ago, we’d been careful to keep some distance. We didn’t discuss it; it’d just happened. Happened in a way that said we both felt the intensity of whatever existed between us and weren’t quite ready to unleash it.

  “Mr. Clark, did you hear me?” Ms Tallup crossed her arms, her nose in the sky.

  My hands curled into fists. “Yes, Ms Tallup.”

  The bell rang.

  Students shot to their feet.

  Olin cast me a look as she shuffled out with the rest of the class, leaving me alone with the teacher from hell.

  What the fuck does she want?

  My father had avoided painting my face with bruises lately. My body was a different story, but at least nothing was visible to those who didn’t need to know.

  Standing slowly, I made a show of stuffing my workbook into my bag and sauntering toward the front where Ms Tallup waited. A marker in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

  My test from the other day.

  With a giant F written in red.

  Great.

  Just fucking great.

  “You’re flunking me again?” I couldn’t hide the contempt in my voice.

  She tutted under her breath. “If you don’t do the work, I can’t reward you with the grades.”

  “I’m doing the work.” I knew my grades were good because Olin helped me. We helped each other. I’d gotten over my aversion to being in her empty house, and we regularly had study sessions together. Her text pages were always so much cleaner than mine. Her bedroom so much warmer than mine. But I kept up with her in the intelligence department, and I trusted myself a little more. Trusted I was just as good as the other students and didn’t deserve to be held back.

  “That’s not what I see.” She crossed her arms again, crushing the paper against her body. “I see two students fraternising when they should be focused on school.”

  “What did you say?” Everything inside me went cold.

  “You heard me.” She looked at the door as if a pupil might walk by and overhear. Fat chance of that. They were all halfway home by now.

  Apart from Olin.

  She would wait for me.

  She’d wait for me because I’d wait for her.

  Always.

  “It’s none of your business which students hang out together.”

  She smiled thinly. “It is my business if it’s affecting their academic progress.”

  “You’ve affected my academic progress by holding me back two years.”

  “I merely suggested to the headmaster that you weren’t at the same level as the others. That’s all. If he didn’t agree with me, you would’ve graduated by now.”

  “I’m just as good as the rest of them.” My temper boiled, and I understood partially why my father beat me when he was angry. The urge to punch Ms Tallup sent pins and needles racing into my fists. It would feel so nice to hurt her like she was hurting my future.

  “Why are you doing this?” I did my best to speak normally, but it came out like a snarl.

  Her eyebrows shot into her mousy hairline. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m merely a concerned—”

  “You’re not. You want something. Something from me.”

  How the fuck didn’t I see it before?

  The thought was a lightning bolt. Hot and scary and lethal as hell. My head cocked, staying arrogant but quickly sliding into terror. “Tell me. What do you want?”

  For the first time, a flicker of truth showed in her steely gaze. She wasn’t old—pushing mid-thirties—but a vindictive streak in her said she hated teenagers.

  Especially me.

  I’d never done anything to her. I was always punctual, polite, hard-working.

  But no matter what I did, nothing was ever good enough.

  “What makes you think I want something from you, Mr. Clark?”

  I leaned toward her, not caring if anyone saw. “I don’t think. I know. Call it instinct.”

  She cocked her head with a gleam in her gaze. “Well, your instincts are wrong.”

  “They’re never wrong.”

  Backing away, making it seem like she needed to put the marker back on the whiteboard, she said, “I’m merely advising you not to spend so much time chasing after Olin Moss. Now run along, Mr. Clark. Best behave yourself if you want to finish school sometime this century.”

  I wanted to kill her.

  Honest to God murder her with my bare hands around her evil throat.

  Instead, I nodded, and with tightly leashed fury, muttered, “Thank you, Ms Tallup.”

  It took everything I had to stalk from the classroom, bolt down the corridor, and suck in a breath as green grass and late afternoon sunshine welcomed me.

  Olin.

  I needed Olin.

  I needed the one girl who made my world bearable even while making it that much harder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ______________________________

  Olin

  -The Present-

  “SO...” GIL SHOVED his hands into his jeans pockets as we stood beneath the faded stars outside his warehouse.

  “So.” I licked my lips, smoothing down my skirt, very aware that I hadn’t rinsed off and a combination of him and me made my thighs sticky.

  His face shadowed with night and emotional darkness. Only one street light existed this far down the warehouse precinct, and its light was futile at chasing back the gloom. The moon was no help, tucked into bed behind wispy clouds where only brave stars peeked from behind.

  He sighed as if struggling with what to say.

  How did we discuss what happened in there? How did we walk away?

  I slung my handbag over my shoulder and leaped into conversation for him. “What just happened, Gil....It was—”

  “A mistake.” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I could let that happen.”

  Temper heated me. “It wasn’t just you, you know.”

  He glowered at the ground.

  “And how dare you call it a mistake.” I tried to curb my frustration. “It was amazing. Exactly like I knew it would be between us. It—”

  “Won’t happen again.”

  My heart fell. I’d stupidly thought we’d gotten past whatever was keeping us apart. I’d hoped...

  I’d stupidly hoped things would magically fix themselves just because we had sex.

  I’m an idiot.

  “We can discuss this another day.” I shrugged, wincing as my hair tugged under my handbag strap. “When you’re not so...”

  His gaze met mine, narrowed and guarded. “Not so drunk?”

  “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but yes. You’re drunk and dealing with things that you refuse to tell me.” I crossed my arms. “You asked me to be your canvas tonight, but instead of finding a professional painter, I found you intoxicated.”

  “You were late.”

  My chin flew up. “You were somewhere else.”

  “How the fuck do you know where I’ve been?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning under his breath. “Sorry. I just...shit.” He shook his head as if doing his best to dispel the tainting liquor.

  “Where have you been, Gil?” My question was as quiet as the silver moon peeking from the wisps. My gaze travelled to the paint splatter on his hands and the combination of grass and dirt on his clothes.

  Maybe Justin was right to be worried about him. Maybe he needed m
ore help than I could provide.

  What made him turn to a bottle today?

  Why didn’t he turn to me?

  “Why were you drinking? You said you’d never be like—”

  “Don’t.” He held up his hand. “Don’t ask questions I can’t answer.”

  Guilt squeezed that I hadn’t been there for him. Hadn’t been able to find him sooner.

  He wasn’t my responsibility. He’d knocked me out and been nothing but complicated since we’d found each other.

  But it didn’t change facts.

  I would always have feelings for this man.

  A kaleidoscope of them.

  Undeniable and not fading anytime soon.

  “You know I won’t judge you for anything, right?” I shifted closer. “You can trust—”

  “Stop.” He bared his teeth, backing up. The alcohol made him harsher, eradicating the decorum he’d done his best to cling to. “It’s time for you to go, Olin.”

  I ignored him. “Do you still need to paint me tonight?”

  His half-smile tangled with a sneer. “Do I look capable of painting you?”

  I didn’t want to answer that.

  Didn’t want to admit that he looked as destitute in his soul as he did in possessions. His eyes were vacant but crowded at the same time—a haunted expression blending with depression. The mess on his clothing made him unsuitable for normal society. The twig knotted in his hair depicted him as something wild. The mud contouring his cheekbone said he’d either gone for a hike in the wilderness or fought a monster.

  The only problem was, he acted as if the monster was him.

  The one who didn’t deserve kindness and togetherness—the one who did his best to ruin what’d just happened between us because he didn’t know how to accept the inevitable.

  We’d always been made for each other.

  Time had ripped us apart, but fate had brought us back.

  Too bad he couldn’t accept such a gift.

  “Do you want to reschedule for tomorrow?” I asked softly.

  His eyes flashed. “You’re not allowed back here.”

  “But what about the commission?”

  His entire body shuddered as if unable to brace against colossal pain. “Doesn’t matter.”