Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,82

away.

Nature.

The Bible says the wolf shall dwell with the lamb. Isaiah 11:6. Yes, I have studied the Bible. In the new world, there will be a new religion, and I had to work out which bits I wanted to keep.

An eye for an eye?

I respect that.

Wolves and lambs living together in peace?

Lambs must remember their place.

And she is my lamb.

“What are you doing?” she asks, snapping me back to the actual conversation.

Another one of her silly questions. This one, I choose to ignore.

I’ll replace it with a more pressing matter.

“Tell me, sweet girl, how do you feel about me?”

She stutters over her words. Stumbles so much, the thing that comes from her mouth is incomprehensible.

That tells me more than coherent words ever could.

She lets out a sigh and tries to look me in the eye. It’s a valiant attempt at bravado that fools neither of us. “I can’t answer that question.”

I’m grinning beneath my mask.

This is perfect.

What happened between us in that shower, I’ll remember that night until the day I die. It was… beautiful. It was beautiful, and she deserved that.

But this is exceptional.

This is what makes her exquisite, and what makes us unique.

The puzzle that needs to be solved.

Could I fuck her right here?

I couldn’t kiss her. I couldn’t bite her. I couldn’t taste her.

Yes, I enjoy being able to kiss her. Bite her. Taste her.

But I can’t fight the entirely broken part of my mind that takes pleasure from watching her try to hide her fascination with me.

And I can’t watch her in the dark.

“I could take you right here, up against this wall.”

We haven’t even re-drawn our line in the sand, and already I’m trying to see how close I can get to it. How far can I push her?

“You wouldn’t,” she says. Though she doesn’t sound at all sure about that. “Anyone could walk around that corner and see us.”

Indeed, they could.

But if that is her only objection, then I have a pretty simple solution for her.

I let her slide down the wall and take a step back.

She visibly relaxes, letting out a breath. It’s premature, but still divine to watch.

Sliding a hand behind my back, I retrieve the gun and, spinning it around, hold it out for her.

Her eyes narrow.

There we go.

The moment when she, too, realizes her relief was precarious.

“Go on,” I tell her, nodding at the weapon. “Take it.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

I chuckle. “It’s quite simple, really. Should anyone walk around the corner and see us, you aim and then you pull the trigger.”

She shakes her head, but I keep the weapon held out. “You’ve lost the plot again.”

I shrug and take a step toward her. “Was there ever a plot? I’m merely problem-solving, sweet girl. But if you’d prefer me to keep watch while I fuck you, I can always put you on all fours. Cheek on the carpet. Hips in the air. I’d have a clear shot should anyone catch a glimpse of you…”

She moves so fast, not realizing it’s completely unnecessary. I would have still given her it, even knowing what she was about to do.

I hold my hands up and take another step back, making it easier for her to point the gun at my head.

My covered-in-a-thick-layer-of-metal head.

Oh, the bullet would likely still penetrate.

But I doubt my little sheltered girl knows that.

“Do it,” I tell her, nodding. “See what happens.”

She lowers the gun just slightly to my chest.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” she warns me.

I laugh. “That’s exactly what I think.”

She thrusts it toward me again, and I take another step back.

“I would.”

This is perfect. She is utterly perfect.

“You actually want to shoot me?” I tease her. “Oh, how magnificent! Here’s what we’ll do… you can shoot me, or you can shoot whoever walks around the corner.”

Her face drops, and she begins shaking her head.

I brush her arm to the side as I move in closer to her. I can almost feel the beat of her heart increasing. It’s in the air around us like a drumbeat. Faster and faster.

I lift her up again, pressing her hard against the wall, legs spread around my stomach. Pulling my cock out and slipping it inside her would be effortless.

I’m betting she knows that, too.

“I can’t do that,” she says.

“Then shoot me,” I tell her, my hands curving around her thighs, my fingers pressing against her soft skin, making her squirm.

“You know I can’t do that, either,” she says, all breathless.

Breathless. Oh, if only this was a dark