“I guess that’s true,” I sigh, winking up at him.
“You fucking freaks,” the chubby man spits. He turns around, shouldering his way through the gathering crowd. Several faces stare back at us and I shrug, waving my hand around at the room.
“Welcome to the petting zoo, mind your fucking business.” My lips curl up in a cruel smile, and several eyes drop to the floor or resume whatever they were doing before the tension popped off. “Thanks, FG,” I whisper, patting his arm again.
The thing is, I’m not entirely sure it was Crane who stood up for me. It sounded more like a combination of him and H, working together. H always calls me Poppet, and Crane calls me Princess.
I swear to God it’s like I’m dating two men. Not that I’m complaining. The sex is interesting, to say the very fucking least. Trying to ignore the building ache between my thighs, I sit back down across from Mitzy.
“Your spy is going to kill everyone here, isn’t he?”
I shrug, clearing the board and rearranging my ships.
“Not everyone,” Crane assures her. “We would never hurt someone important to Kenzie.” A shiver trills over my spine, and my eyes meet Mitzy’s. Hers are wide, staring over my shoulder at Crane.
“He’s not a spy,” she hisses, focusing her attention back on me. “He’s a demon.”
“Maybe,” I concede, popping my ships into their places on the board. “But hey, you’re safe.”
“I am no demon,” Crane rumbles in a deep voice. This time, I know for sure: This is H. “I punish the guilty. Enjoying it doesn’t make me evil.” He stares at Mitzy, waiting for her to respond.
My head slowly turns from one side to the other, taking in the change in Mitzy’s posture. She’s got a habit of attacking when she’s scared, and H can be a little intimidating. Her lip snarls back, and she looks feral as hell. Preparing to jump between them, I slide a hand along the table and look from one to the other again.
“They say I’m evil,” Mitzy finally whispers, all the tension leaving her body in a rush.
“Who?” Crane and I both ask at the same time.
“The spies, especially the ones I’ve bitten.”
“Give me names.” Crane growls, and it’s almost as if I can feel the air vibrating around him. Like all the oxygen in the room is surging toward him, building him up somehow.
Mitzy shrinks back into her chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. I shake my head, crossing around the table and begin petting her hair away from her face. “It’ll be okay, Mitz, I promise.”
She shakes her head, taking in a long, shaky breath before she meets my gaze. “I take it back. I like your demon.”
I chuckle and wrap my arms around her, looking up at Crane over her shoulder. His fists clench tightly at his sides, his eyes never leaving mine. Yeah, demon may actually describe him pretty well.
* * *
/-/-/-/
* * *
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear then slip my hands into my hoodie pocket as I walk down the hall. I know this path by heart. I’ve been to Yoon’s office many, many times over the years. I still remember when they hired her on as the lead psychologist. Psychiatrist? Whatever her actual title was—it didn’t matter to me, really.
It’s not my usual day for 101 therapy, though. I shouldn’t have to go back until after the weekend. Today was supposed to be a free day where I can read or walk around the grounds without being bothered by diagnoses.
Hurried footsteps thunder behind me. As I begin to turn my head over my shoulder to see what’s going on—sometimes, people go a little crazy in Whisperwood; ha ha, you can never be too careful—I’m pushed up against the wall.
“I need you,” Crane growls into my ear.
I blink as my head hits the hard wall, a sharp pain speeding through my senses but not as fast as the arousal already building. Something about the way his voice changes when he’s turned on dumbfounds me, every single time. His warm lips trail over my throat; I scan the hall for anyone else who might be around. Luckily, there’s no one.
Against my better judgement, I give in, my body molding to the wall behind me as Crane mumbles against my ear, grinding his hard cock against my hip. My fingers splay against the wall, digging into the hard surface. Crane’s teeth dig into my skin, and my hand jumps, bumping into something cold and metallic.
A door knob.
I tap his shoulder repeatedly, then push at him until he stumbles back from me, his eyes hooded. “What?”
“In here,” I whisper, twisting the door handle.
Crane’s eyes go wide, and a dangerous smile ticks up the corners of his mouth before he grabs my hand and pulls me into the closet. It’s tiny and full of cleaning supplies. Buckets, brooms, spray bottles, and an endless amount of paper towels crowd the small space. Before I’m done taking in my surroundings, Crane pushes me against the door, sealing his lips to mine.
I gasp against his mouth, tracing my tongue along the seam of his lips. This is incredibly hot, I manage to think between kisses. His fingers hook in the waistband of my sweats, and he rips them down.
I kick my shoes off and step out of the bulky pants without hesitation. I’m not entirely sure what Crane is up to, but I trust him implicitly. As crazy as he is, he’d never do anything to hurt me. His alter ego is just as infatuated with me as he is. I swallow, pulling my hoodie over my head to reveal I’m wearing nothing underneath it. I haven’t been bothering with underwear or bras lately; there’s no need, Crane just ends up shredding them which leads to more questions from the orderlies than anything else.
“I want to taste you,” he growls, staring me up and down. I suddenly feel very exposed, standing there naked in the dark closet. Somehow, I know, though, Crane can see me perfectly. That thought sends a shiver up my spine, and I wrap my arms around my stomach, glancing at the floor. Maybe Mitzy is right, maybe there is something demonic about my love.
“You want to—”
“Come here.” He holds out a hand, I can make it out with the light coming in under the door. I nod, laying my hand in his palm. Crane pulls me against his chest. His clothes are gone too; my bare chest presses against his bare chest, each of his ragged breaths reverberate through my body, intensifying the sensation of skin on skin. “I need to taste you, Princess,” he whispers.
A finger hooked under my chin tilts my face up to his, and he kisses me again, sweeter this time. His lips pluck at mine over and over, his tongue rolling against my own until I’m a whimpering ball of need.
“Please,” I sigh against his mouth.
Crane growls, his hands sliding down my back to my ass, to the top of my legs. His fingers dig into the flesh, and he hauls me into the air. My legs twine around his back on instinct, my arms wrapping around his neck at the same moment my ankles lock across one another. Crane shakes his head and kisses me again, his tongue probing my mouth. His cock presses against my wet folds, if he would just line it up—
“Are you ready?” he chuckles.
I don’t have time to answer him because before I know it, I’m being tilted sideways. My ankles fall free even as my fingers scrabble to find purchase on his arm, his shoulders, anything. My pulse pounds in my ears as I’m inverted. The world is upside down.
I stare down at the floor, my hand clasped firmly over my mouth until I feel something prodding my cheek. He grinds his cock against my cheek as he adjusts my thighs around his neck, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave bruises.
I don’t care if he bruises me, even though I should. My heart pounds against my chest as my body shakes and Crane lets out a muffled grunt. I’m finally positioned how he wants me. His warm tongue slips between my folds, diving right into my soaking wet slit. Heat pools in my center.
“Fuck!” I whisper, wrapping my hand around his cock as it brushes past my cheek again. I want to grind my hips against his face, but I have absolutely no leverage in this position. I groan, flicking my tongue out to taste the salty bead of pre
cum already dripping from the tip of Crane’s cock. His moan of appreciation vibrates against my pussy, and I whimper. This is too much.
Using my hand to steady myself, I wrap my lips around the head of his dick and swirl my tongue all along the head. I’ve never done a sixty-nine before, much less an airborne one, so this is an entirely new experience. Will all the blood in my body go to my head? Will my head pop off? Crane growls against my pussy again, slipping his tongue from my entrance to my clit, lapping at it like a starving man, and I realize I don’t care if my head pops off. This is fucking worth it.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against the sensitive flesh. I try to moan, but it only opens my mouth wider for him, and he begins to rock his hips against my face again, his cock sliding over my tongue slowly at first, then faster, hitting the back of my throat over and over while he devours me.
My fingers dig into his hips, holding on for dear life while he fucks my mouth. I try desperately to slip my tongue along the shaft, to swirl it, but he slides over it and into my throat again before rearing back and starting over.
I’m not sure if it’s the blood rushing to my head, or the fact that it’s broad daylight and we’re fucking in a supply closet, but there’s something sinfully erotic about his mastery of me in this way. Crane’s tongue twirls against my clit, finding a pulsing rhythm that has me groaning against the dick in my mouth.
“That’s it, Poppet,” he moans, burying his mouth farther against my pussy. His stubble brushes against my pussy lips, and the contrast to his smooth, wet tongue is enough to send me into sensory overload. “This is mine. You are mine.”
I find myself focusing on the bit of light seeping into the closet under the door. It grows brighter and brighter the closer I come to my orgasm. I can feel it, just on the other side of something. I can almost touch it, almost taste it, but not quite yet.
“All I can think about is how much death I want to lay at your feet. I want you to bathe in the glory of their punishment while I satisfy your every need, your every desire,” he moans.
The back of my head bounces against the closet door as he slides in and out of my mouth. It’s not painful, I’m too distracted by what he’s saying and doing between my legs to even care. My pussy spasms, my core tightens, and I moan, swirling my tongue around his length, slipping it as far down his shaft as I can.
“Come for me Princess.”
I do. I shudder, a strange noise bubbling up my throat as he pushes his cock further into my mouth. He swells in my mouth, pulsating, growing bigger. Crane draws out my orgasm as long as possible by slowly lapping at my clit while shudders rack my body.
His hips have none of the patience his mouth does, though. They slam against my face faster; he’s going to come. I dig my nails into his ass cheeks, pulling him closer to me, farther into my throat.
“Fuck!” he roars, his body seizing for a moment as warm jets of cum spray into my throat and mouth. I swallow, moaning around the sensitive flesh.
He flips me upright, and I blink, trying to steady my vision. My hand finds his shoulder, latching on for dear life.
“You alright?”
“Dizzy,” I whisper, my fingernails digging into his skin.
“Here,” he murmurs, slowly setting me on my feet. Leaning my head back against the door, I look up at him and grin.
“That was fucking amazing.” Laying a hand over my chest, feeling the rise and fall of my breaths. I feel like I’ve just run a damn marathon.
Crane snickers, running his fingers through my hair. No doubt it looks crazy now, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his.
“I love you,” I murmur before I think better of it.
His hand stills in my hair, and I hold my breath. Did I just fuck everything up? I should have let him say it first. That’s what you’re supposed to do. I swallow, closing my eyes tightly to avoid the situation. Why would I say ‘I love you’ after getting face-fucked in a supply closet? I quickly try to turn for the door, my hand gripping the handle. Crane pulls me around, fast, his hand slipping up my throat in a comforting hold.
“I love you, too,” he whispers. His voice is serious, almost reverent. His lips press against mine in the most chaste kiss we’ve ever shared, and my heart swells. Of course, I said I love him after he skull-fucked me in a closet, I’m a goddamn badass!
“We both love you,” he adds.
My chest tightens as I kiss his bottom lip softly then turn for the door. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
* * *
/-/-/-/
* * *
“Come in!” Dr. Yoon calls from the other side of the door.
I grimace but breeze into the room like I own the place. It’s the only way to deal with these assholes. They think they know everything, and even the slightest doubt is blood in the water to them. It’s only when Yoon clears her throat I realize I’ve been standing in front of the desk for longer than is normal. I slip into the chair quickly, shaking out my blonde hair as she scrutinizes me over her thick rimmed glasses.
“How have you been doing, Mackenzie?” Her cool tone and use of my full name makes me bristle, and I shift uncomfortably in my chair, leveling her with a gaze.
“Fuck off, you know I hate my full name.”
“Kenzie,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Dr. Yoon doesn’t pretend to be professional with me in private anymore. She’s been treating me for far too long for that to be effective. “How have you been doing, Kenzie?” Her emphasis on my name has me narrowing my eyes, but I try to remain calm; being combative with the shrinks never goes well.
“I’ve been fine. Me and Mitz have been loving the Halloween decorations.” I shrug, unsure of what to say. I don’t know why I was called to her office, and I know for a fact it wasn’t to ask what I’ve been up to.
“That’s good. It’s important you have some sense of normalcy here,” she murmurs, pulling out a clipboard from her desk. “How are things with our new resident, Mr. Woodward?”
I lean back in my chair, the cushion squishing under the weight of my back. “Is that an appropriate question for you to be asking another resident?”
“You’re not a second-hand psychologist, Kenzie. Just answer the question, please.”
I shrug, looking around the room. She’s up to something, and I refuse to play into it. I’ve known this woman for a long time.
“Are you two close?”
“Yes,” I answer in a bored voice.
“There have been some . . . rumors. I know there was an incident where you were found in Crane’s room.” Yoon’s eyebrows raise up her forehead as she waits for an answer to a question she hasn’t asked.
“And?” I ask, crossing my legs.
“Are you in a relationship with another resident?” she snaps, slamming her pen down on the table.
“No!” I lie. “Vic is a fucking liar, I can’t stand that piece of shit, and I have no idea why you idiots hired him.”
“We needed a replacement for Derrick.” Yoon’s face shows no emotion. She’s gotten the reaction she was looking for already. “With your history, I’m sure you understand my concerns—”
“I told you there’s nothing going on.”
“Lying to me isn’t going to change anything here, Kenzie,” Yoon sighs. “You need to end it before you end up in more trouble than you can get out of.”
I narrow my eyes on her, jutting my chin out proudly. “What the fuck are you threatening me with?”
Yoon leans back in her chair, lacing her fingers across her stomach as she stares at me. “If you continue on the path you’ve started, Whisperwood will have no choice but to remove you from our premises for the safety and comfort of our other patients. That means you’ll be at a prison facility, Kenzie.” Her smile looks kind, but I know better. This isn’t friendly advice; this is a threat.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, rushing to my feet. Dr. Yoon’s eyes widen for a moment before she schools her face back into
the placid doctor she wants to be.
“Sit. Down.”
“With a cactus,” I add as I turn toward the door. “Fuck you with a cactus.” I storm out the door, slamming it behind me. Anger rushes through me, coating everything inside me with the thick, red emotion. I stomp across Whisperwood toward the common room, looking for Crane. He needs to be aware of what we’re being threatened with.
I search the room for his dark head but can’t find him. It hits me that he may be outside, or in his room. Mitzy waves to me from across the room, and I wave back, forcing a half-hearted smile on my face. As I turn around to go search for Crane, I come face to face with the source of all this drama.
Vic the asshole orderly.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes, slut?” he asks, leaning casually against the wall.
My mouth falls open, my hands balling into fists at my side. It would almost be worth it to knock him in the fucking mouth. “Fuck you,” I snarl and turn around, marching into the common room to put a safe amount of distance between us.
I need to talk to Crane before I do anything. Anything I do could affect him, too, and I need to know if he’s been given similar instructions by any of the doctors. This could always just be Yoon fucking with me. She has a habit of doing that when she’s in a bad mood. She’d given up on actually treating me years ago. She knows as well as I do that despite the toxic traits I’d inherited from my lovely family, I’m not insane. I have problems—lots of problems, especially emotional ones—but I don’t hear voices or hallucinate and I’m not usually suicidal. This place is just a nicer version of prison for me.
I slam my hands down on the table beside Mitzy and fall into the open chair beside her. The three other people at the table glance up at me and quickly decide to leave. Chairs scrape across the tile as they make their exit to go find something else to do.
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