𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 by A.P.Mary

16.

Her curves are made for my hands, her face for my eyes to see, and her presence to be hated by me. I see in the dim light that her dilated pupils are fixed on me, and a single drop of sweat goes perfectly down her face as if it's placed by someone.

I hear footsteps outside the door, and I place my hand on her lips, sadly muffling those sweet sounds from coming out. Her nails dig deep in my back, sign that she's close. My lips form a smirk as I stop thrusting, seeing her frustration grow on her face.

Her eyebrows get together, and she slowly shuts her eyes, her back arching. I slowly retreat from her , my hand gripping her thigh, steadying it as I place slow, wet kisses on their insides. She cries, and I cannot explain how much I love humiliating her like this. I go from her thigh to her tummy, slowly trespassing her boobs and finally reaching my hand. I lean to her ear.

"Beg me," I say, kissing the nap of her neck. "Beg me to finish, or I'll get the fuck out, leaving you like this." I raise my face to look into her eyes, and she's angry, but a kiss on the forehead melts the mad with the desperate, and as I slowly put my hand to her cheek, she whispers a simple

"Please, please finish your fucking dirty work." I smile, kissing her lips as I thrust into her, and her orgasm is perfectly heard by my ears. I finish too and slowly leave her body to my clothes, dressing up and leaving her room, going directly to the bathroom.

~

The water is washing me away, but my mind is fogged by her and by the wine I drank. She's the most hateful person I could think of. She was meant to have a rope around her neck, but now the rope is in her hands and the knot is around my neck. What stiffens me is the fact that she doesn't realize how much I want her gone;

She might be playing dumb when, in reality, she had all this planned from the beginning; that sounds most likely like her.

My palm still holds the memory of her, my dick of her insides, and my mouth of hers. I still see those dilated pupils, high and full of need. I feel it might explode.

Even as I brush my hair, every knot reminds me of her, when those hands of hers gripped my hair to prevent a scream from escaping her mouth. I dry myself, put on new clothes from the drawer, and make my way out of the bathroom. I pause for three seconds to eye her, standing in front of the door, probably waiting for me to free it, and then walk away to my room, where my bed awaits me with open arms.

~

I finish installing the tracker on her ankle, and as I hear a click, I power it on. "You overpass the perimeter, you die. If you try taking it off, it will shock you to death. Every move is monitored, and any magnetic object or device will be detected." Emanuele next to me hits the keyboard to finish the setup, and Maverine is just standing here, sometimes scratching her skin because of the old sweater.

Esra comes beside me and lays her shoulder to mine, watching the device on her ankle as confused and interested as her sister, who is hiding behind a column. "I used to have something like that once."

"Domiciliary arrest?" I ask, turning my head to face her

"Oh no, I never get caught; it was my old boyfriend's kink2"

"Got the point, thanks." I have too many people in my house to prevent one or two brain cells from combusting. I look at Maverine and see that she's been looking at me this whole time. I see regret in her eyes—a cold seriousness that makes me shiver.

"You're dismissed; prepare for tomorrow." She eyes me confused. "Your first mission." Her body turns frozen, but then she nods and turns away, leaving me with my brother and the two Rojas sisters.