RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,103

voice.

He seems intrigued by that. “You’re not talking about my body. You’re talking about something else.”

I’m frayed, coming apart at the seams. I’m aching and burning for him so fucking badly that I don’t even know what I want anymore.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, the words dark and full of gravel, promising pain untold. “There’s only so much of me a person can take before it starts to hurt, Little E. And no, I am not talking about my dick.” He smirks ruthlessly. “My heart’s a grenade. It’s safer where it is, locked in its cage. You take it outta there and you’re essentially pulling the pin.”

“What happens then?” I’m shaking all over.

Wren’s reached the bottom of the bed. He lets go of his straining erection and places his hands on my ankles, curling his fingers around them tightly. “I don’t know. No one’s ever tried.”

He drags me toward him by my feet and claims me as his prize.

23

WREN

Christmas Morning.

Wren Jacobi, a tender six-year-old boy, sat down next to his twin sister and waited eagerly to open his presents. At seven, eight, nine, and ten, he did the same, heart beating out of his chest, unable to contain the excitement at what delights he might find inside the stacks of colorfully wrapped and ribboned gifts that awaited him.

All of those Christmases combined don’t even come close to the excitement I feel now, as I pull Elodie down the mattress toward me. I’m no longer a na?ve little boy, filled with juvenile anticipation over a box of Legos. No, now I’m far more interested in taking things apart than putting them together, and Elodie promises to be the most precious gift of all.

The part of me that took that photo of her from Harcourt’s desk—the very same part of me that relished the prospect of breaking her heart and making her cry—rears its ugly head, making all sorts of vile commands. My dick strains harder, and my blood roars through my veins, an unstoppable, deadly tidal wave…but I close a fist around that dark shadow, banishing it from my mind. Wren from three weeks ago would have already figured out what cruel, cold thing he was going to say to Elodie once he’d had his fill of her tonight, but now I’m left scrambling, turned around and unsure what the fuck I’m going to do once this is over.

I won’t shatter her, though. I’ll make her fall to pieces in my arms, and I’ll watch her splinter apart as she comes. After that, who knows what the fuck comes next. Anyone’s guess is as good as mine.

Her eyelashes flutter like butterfly’s wings as she looks up at me, her winter-blue eyes full of desire and panic. Her tongue darts out wetting her bottom lip, and I beat back a snarl at the sight of it. “Answer me, E. What do you want? How far do you want this to go?”

Mrs. Hopkins, our hapless statistics teacher, drew the short straw the day the students of Wolf Hall had to be given the whole consent talk. She’d be proud as hell of me right now. ‘Boys, I know you’re all far too young to be thinking about sex yet (hah de fucking hah) but you must always make sure you that your lady friend consents to your advances. If you don’t hear a clear yes from her, then always better to assume that, uh, it’s a no.’ Her pride would be misplaced, though. I’m not asking for Elodie’s consent. She already gave it, the moment she announced she was coming up to my fucking room in front of Pax and Dash. No, I want to know just how filthy my precious Little E is gonna let me be.

She wriggles, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her toes curling against the flat of my stomach. God, I want to bite her. I want to fucking consume her. I want to take all of that beautiful blonde hair and wrap it around my fist as I drive her mouth down as deep as she can go onto my cock. Her eyes shutter, like she has a window into my depraved, debauched mind, and what she sees through it is making her unravel. “You know what I want,” she says.

Ahhh, poor Little E needs to loosen up that tongue of hers. I have a few tricks up my sleeve that should grease those gears. One step at a time, though. Still holding