She crosses her arms. “From what?”
I lick my lips, thinking of all the ways I want to hurt her. Punish her.Useher body for my own pleasure.
“Fine. You can take a break. You’ve worked hard this week, and I’m proud, Ashlyn. I am. Bet your grades will be better for it.”
You’d think no one had ever said that to her…and, knowing where she came from, a little about her family situation…they may not have. That thought hits me hard—toohard—and for a second, I yearn to pull over to hold her. Tell her she’s so good.Smart. Worth it.
But I tighten my grip on the wheel and remember what a fucking bitch she really is.
“Thanks,” she whispers, blinking at the side of my face to see if what I said was a joke.
When we get to my room, I slide to my desk to finish up some fraternity business. Ashlyn emerges from the guest suite in loose pajama pants and a sweatshirt, a tray of snacks perched on her hand like an offering. She curls up under the covers on my bed with a tablet and headphones. Like it’s her place.
I hate that I wish it were.
She slyly glances at me as if I won’t notice her in my space andnoton her dog bed. Or the sofa. Or the guest bed…
Always pushing. Making my cock throb harder.
It’s a test. I know it is. But the thing about my baby girl? She’s the only one who makes me feel anything other than apathy. Even fury flames hotter when it’s because of her.
I tell myself I’ll finish the email before I look again.
But I don’t.
Rage pulses through my veins as she lifts a cracker to her lips, spraying it with a hiss of pressurized cheese. Yellow sludge drips onto my red velvet comforter, smeared away with a careless swipe of her palm before she stuffs the snack in her face. Breaded shards dust my black sheets like snow. She brushes off her chest with a flick of her fingers, knocking more crumbs loose, all of them waiting to pierce my skin like needles when I crawl into bed later.
Silently, I stand and whip off my belt. She swallows, watching me with the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s done. And maybe even regrets it.
I untuck my shirt, unfasten each button one by one, gaze locked on my pet.
Bare-chested and slick with a fever only destruction can cure, I grab the key from the desk, unlock my closet, and retrieve what I need.
The succubus yanks off her headphones, eyes widening as she studies my tools. Her little fingers clutch the sheets to her chest like armor.
“What’s that?” she whispers.
I don’t answer.
Instead, I reach above the headboard for a wooden paddle, then lean in close enough to press my lips to the crown of her head.
Strawberries.
Sweetness.
And sin.
I place the spreader bar on the mattress next to the paddle. With a snap of my fingers, I point to the floor.
“Kneel.”
She hesitates.
The irritation I’d bottled tight threatens to erupt. She must feel it, because she scrambles into her learned position in front of me. Spine straight. Hands resting in her lap. Head bowed.
“But…what is that?Lord?”
Her voice trembles just right—laced with fear. The kind I put there.