Angry God

“Mine.” He grabbed my jaw, kissing me so deeply I thought I was going to choke.

He was staking his claim and marking me, not making either of us feel particularly good. He backed me against the wall, and when I was pressed to the cold concrete, he tugged at the cloth on the statue again, angling my face and forcing me to look at it.

“See this?”

I swallowed wordlessly.

“This hurts,” he said angrily.

Pain. I’d doubted he was able to experience the feeling until now, much less confess it.

“Why?”

“Because you’re better than me. And it’s fucking killing me.”

My heart soared, butterflies taking flight around it in circular motions. He’d never acknowledged my talent before.

“What’d you use?” He released my jaw.

“Tin cans,” I breathed as he sneaked his hand between my thighs, stroking the area around my pussy, though not giving me the satisfaction of plunging in.

But I knew he would. I knew he’d erase Pope from my DNA before he left here, no matter what.

“What happened to the rest of me?” he asked.

“Destroyed.”

“How fucking fitting.” His fingers found my walls, and suddenly, I was wet and aching again.

He slapped my pussy once when I whimpered, then got back to fingering me with expertise that surprised me, considering his lack of practice. I clenched around his fingers, biting down on my lower lip, knowing he didn’t want me to come—he wanted to mark me.

He fingered me slow and deep, curling his fingers when he reached a sensitive spot and rubbing it teasingly. My nipples hardened as I watched his dead, cold expression in awe. My legs were weak, my knees shaking, but I knew he wouldn’t let me get comfortable.

“Why won’t you show anyone your statue?” I asked, the lust thick in my voice. “Is it not going well?”

He smirked at me like I was a silly, silly girl. But he couldn’t fool me anymore. I’d gotten under his skin and found something wonderful. His blood was red, just like mine.

And hot.

And so very, terribly human.

“Why, then?” I pressed.

“Because,” he said, leaving me hanging.

His eyes roamed my face. They promised trouble. I didn’t know if I could take more than we were currently dealing with.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He fingered me faster. I moaned, lolling my head against the wall. “Fuck you before he does. Fuck you so you’ll always remember I was the first. Fuck you just like you’ve fucked me, over and over again, since I was thirteen.”

I came hard around his fingers, whimpering with ecstasy. It felt different than it had with Pope. The stakes were higher. I cared. I cared what he thought when he looked at my face as I came. I hoped he liked the scent of my pussy. I wanted to please him, and that bothered me.

Instead of licking his fingers, like Rafferty had, Vaughn wiped them on my cheek, still looking at me with disdain.

“For the record,” he said, just when I was about to tell him to bugger off, I wasn’t going to sleep with someone who treated me the way he had, no matter how much I wanted to. “I didn’t tell you about Arabella and your father because I didn’t get the chance. Although I can’t promise I would have, for sure. Thrusting oneself into drama is more your sister’s thing. But it wasn’t some elaborate scheme against your ass. As for your birthday gift, my sweet…” He leaned into my face, brushing the fingers he’d used to pleasure me across my lips with a smirk. “Figure it out. You’re a big girl. Tomorrow. Seven p.m. at the cul-de-sac.”

He left without another word.

The next morning, I rewrapped my hand with gauze, sneering when I saw the state of my busted knuckles.

I wasn’t pissed at myself for punching concrete. I was actually pretty pleased that was the only thing I’d punched in that room. Killing Pope had been high on my agenda. The fact he was still breathing should have earned me a Nobel Prize.

Moving out to the corridor, I checked that the coast was clear before I paid a little visit to his room. He was still asleep. I pushed his door and walked right in like I owned the fucking place.

“Mornin’, motherfucker,” I greeted, smiling politely down at him.

He opened his eyes and mouth to answer, but of course, it was a little difficult, considering I had my elbow shoved against his throat.

Pope’s eyes widened when he realized I was blocking his air pipe, leaning close to him, almost like I was going to kiss him. His brows pinched together, and he turned red.

“You said you weren’t scared of me yesterday, but I fail to see how that’s relevant. I would need your fear if I were planning on throwing around idle threats. As it happens, I fully intend to follow through on every single thing I’m about to say, so listen closely. Yesterday, you tasted what was mine. Whether you fed yourself some bullshit excuse about helping a friend or not, it happened. And I wasn’t happy. But I also realize Len is fond of you, and wanted to get this shit out of her system. I get that. I do. I’m not an unreasonable person.”