Chapter Eleven

Ty

After washing myself and getting into some fresh sweatpants, I’ve just finished securing thick planks of wood over a window in a pretty decent room with a nail gun to trap in the warmth from the burning fireplace. I set the tool down on the floor with a quiet thud and my gaze shifts to Midnight, content as she eats from her bowl, a small makeshift bed resting beside her.

This is all temporary. In a few days, I’ll move us—me, Raven and Midnight. We’re going on a little road trip. It’s about time she sees the world, sees me, for what I really am.

The sudden chime of my phone breaks the silence, and my brows furrow as I look down. I pull it from my pocket, scanning the lit-up screen. My eyes narrow at the message:

[Messy as fucking always,, Ty.]

Who the fuck’s this?

I don’t know anyone. I don’t even have contacts on this phone—it’s the first one I’ve ever owned, and I’m barely learning how to use the fucking thing.

A faith noise from the bathroom catches my attention and my gaze snaps to the open door, my body tensing on impulse. I let out a long huff and shove the phone back into my pocket, pushing the message to the back of my mind, for now.

I storm toward the door, my mind racing with the likelihood that Kitten might be trying to escape me. My hand grasps the doorknob, and in a swift motion, I unlock it and shove it open. She flinches, jumping back instantly, her eyes wide with surprise.

I pause at the threshold, my gaze sweeping down her—still wearing my black hoodie, her legs bare except for the black socks she added. There’s a flicker of something in my chest, a mix of possessiveness and... something else. Probably the fact I still want to fuck the life out of her.

She tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear, almost revealing her raven tattoo, her movements hesitant. “I hope you weren’t expecting your hoodie back,” she says, her voice soft, her gaze avoiding mine and it takes everything in me not to smirk at how she’s trying to hide the vulnerability beneath her words.

“It’s comfortable,” she continues as she tugs it down her thighs, her chin lifting as she finally meets my eyes. There’s a quiet challenge in her gaze, a spark of defiance, and I can feel my control slipping just a little more.

I pushed her to the edge, just so she could feel what I feel every damn time I look at her. I teased her, making sure she felt every craving building between us. And I could see it in her eyes—she wanted more, needed more. She wanted me to fuck her into oblivion and make her come.

But It’s all part of my strategy, my cruel, manipulative game. Each move, each touch is a step toward making her need me, making her want every part of me—the dark, the sick, the madness in my mind. She doesn’t know it yet, but soon she’ll be tangled up in me, and when that happens, she’ll want it. All of it, not choosing to escape me.

Yeah, it’s killing me too. I need her, even more now I’ve tasted her, seen her. I want her so damn badly. Every second I’m in the same air as her, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind. I want to destroy her, fuck her until the sound of her screaming my name is the only thing echoing in both our minds for eternity. But I know—I know—the end result will be worth the blue balls.

I stare at her, my mind racing back to how her wet pussy felt against my cock and how she clenched around the tip, it all floods back. I reach out quickly, my hand locking around her wrist and drag her behind me, my pace fast as I lead her to the room I’ve prepared for the next few days.

Her small feet patter against the cold wooden floor, her pace struggling to match mine as I pull her along. When we reach the door, I yank her inside and lock it behind us. I release her wrist without a word, turning and walking toward the warmth of the fireplace. I settle onto the floor, pulling my backpack closer and unzipping it. I feel her presence edging moving toward me, her curiosity clear.

I start unpacking Tupperware containers of premade pasta and other food I got from the store today, placing them on the floor in front of me. It’s not much, but it’ll give us the energy we need. We’ve got chaos ahead.

I watch from the corner of my eye as she carefully sits a few feet away, opposite me as I set a plastic set of cutlery down for her.

“Eat.” I order without looking at her.

She settles onto her knees, wary of the situation, but I continue to pull out a couple of cold beers. I need a fucking drink. This freedom is going to be the death of my liver. After yanking the tops off with my teeth, I set them down and light a cigarette.

Kitten from the corner of my eye, stares at me, but she does eventually start eating, knowing she needs it. As I smoke, I observe her now and then through the haze, her head bowed, taking small bites of the pasta in silence. I wonder what’s racing through her mind. I’ve already gotten under her skin, that much is obvious. But what else is she thinking?

“Do you have family waiting for you back home, Kitten?” I ask, taking another drag of my cigarette, testing the waters. I need to know if anyone will be looking for her.

Her chewing slows, her head still lowered. She takes a moment, then swallows before giving a small shake of her head.

“No, I’m on my own.” Her voice is calm, then her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Don’t worry—no one will be trying to find me.”

It’s like she’s reading my thoughts, peeling back my intentions before I can mask them. But that’s what therapists do. They weigh every answer, every question. Calculated. Precise. They’re as careful as the psychopaths they deal with, treading the same dangerous waters.

But I don’t want her to be my fucking therapist. I want her to see me for who I am beneath the diagnosis. I want to strip away her polished armor and see the raw, real person underneath. I want to see her as if no one if watching. Like I’m not watching.

“What happened to your parents?” I question.

She shrugs, closing herself off and I can see the unease creeping through her, stiffening her spine. I grab a beer and flick it across the wood floor toward her. The bottle scrapes against the grain, stopping just by of her hand.

Her eyes dart to it, then back to me and there’s a beat before she picks it up, taking a long swig with her head tilting back, throat working as she drinks. God knows she probably needs it.

“They’re dead. My mom died when I was young,” she says simply when she’s finished, her tone a mirror of my own detachment. “And my dad, he…” She trails off and I feel my brows pinch. “He killed himself three years ago.”

I just stare at her as she avoids eye contact, but I can see it’s something that upsets her. Unfortunately I can’t relate. I wonder how she feels, knowing I willingly took both of my parents’ lives, when she lost hers without warning. She doesn’t know my reasons, but one day she will and maybe she’ll understand or maybe she won’t.

“I guess that’s why I wanted to get into all the mental health side of things…” she admits, pulling her sleeve further down her arm with a shrug and I observe her carefully, thinking about what she’s telling me.

“You didn’t know he was unwell?” I ask curiously, wanting to delve into the dark mind of the woman I’m obsessed with.

She shakes her head once before letting out a deep sigh.

“Nope. I didn’t even get a reason or a note. I was just the one who found him and picked up the pieces after.” I soak in her words, and she continues, “I fell into some deep depression for a while, but clawed my way out and here I am.”

My chin raises slightly, something stirring inside me at her confession. My kitten has felt the darkness. That’s why she went to that asylum. She was using it as a power to try to help others. To help herself.

Interesting. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to her.

I watch as she lowers the bottle onto the floor, then I flick my cigarette into the fireplace and grab my fork, stabbing at the pasta idly.

“I know you said you have no one when we were in SHA,” she says, her tone laced with interest now, switching the conversation to me. “But does that mean no one? No grandparents, no cousins? Not even a friend?”

I pause, my fork dragging through the sauce as I think about how to answer, my eyes staying locked on the food even as I finally speak.

“No one at all,” I say, the truth cutting through the air. “I did have a little sister once.”

From the corner of my eye, I see her freeze mid-bite, her gaze snapping to me.

“Did?”

I look at her, meeting her gaze head-on. “Did.”

Her expression softens, the hardness in her eyes giving way, showing her sensitive side that I strangely like. She looks down, her voice quieter now. “What happened?”

The memories scraping their way up spine and I weigh my options—whether to open up just enough to pull her closer or shut her out entirely, keeping my edge intact.

“She’s dead.”

Kitten tilts her head slightly, studying me with those sharp, blue eyes of hers. She knows there’s more, and I can feel her thinking about my words, trying to make sense of them.

“She went missing,” I say finally, my voice cold and clipped. I drag the fork through the pasta again. “ Poof. Never to be seen again.”

“Was this before…”

Her voice trails off as my eyes snap to hers, the intensity in my stare stops her mid-sentence and her lips press into a thin line. She looks down, her fork toying aimlessly with the pasta.

I force myself to relax, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders as I exhale a silent, defeated sigh. I don’t like talking about this, but the words seem to slip out anyway.

“Yeah, it was,” I mutter begrudgingly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice softer now. “That must have been really hard for you.”

Her words sink in, hitting a place I don’t let people reach. I think about how hard it was—how I failed. How it fucking destroyed me. I was supposed to protect her, to be the big brother she could rely on. Instead, I let her slip through my fucking fingers. It broke something in me. Hell, it fucking made me. But it wasn’t the only reason for the way I am now. There were many.

I take a bite of pasta, forcing the memories back down. Across from me, she tips her beer back, chugging it like it’s water, trying to chase away her own discomfort.

I study her, every small movement pulling me in deeper. Her long orangey-red hair falls loose over her shoulders and chest, her lips parting slightly as she swallows the last of the drink. I wonder how many secrets lie beneath her pretty exterior.

I need to know more.

“Any boyfriends?” I ask, my tone laced with interest but also something darker—possessiveness.

She pauses for a moment, caught off guard, and then sets the empty bottle down without meeting my eyes, but I catch a faint smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

“I’ve had a few… Not in a while though.”

Her casual response ignites something primal in me. The thought of anyone else touching her, tasting her, knowing her in ways I haven’t yet—it’s angering. The jealousy flares hot and fast and I regret even asking. I drop my fork into the pasta with a clang, snatching my beer instead and taking a long, irritated gulp, yet the bitter taste does little to dull the rage.

“You?” she queries. Of course, she’d throw the fucking question back at me.

I tilt my head forward slightly, the bottle cold against my fingers and her eyes are on me now, waiting. I hiss through my teeth and set the beer down with a thud.

“Tell me, beautiful girl. How many cocks have you had inside that tight ass? Has anyone actually satisfied you in the way you deserve?” I murmur darkly, my eyes blackening with desire as they sweep down her body with hunger.

Her lips twitch upward, a faint, almost teasing smile breaking through as she stares down at her pasta. She’s no longer eating, just stirring the sauce into lazy spirals as if the motion helps her piece together her thoughts. I can see it in her eyes—the wheels turning, the careful consideration of what to say next.

“Tell me, psycho boy. Have you ever fucked at all?” Her blue eyes meet mine, an amused intensity in them. “How about head? How badly does your virgin dick want to cum down my throat?”

Her answer doesn’t just make my jaw tighten with annoyance—it almost gets my dick hard.

Brave little bitch.

There she is, the real her, peeking out from beneath that carefully constructed facade. A little brazen, a little mouthy, and just the kind of slut I can’t resist. My lips curl into a dark smirk as I snicker, lowering my gaze back to my food and stabbing hard at the pasta with my fork.

Of course, she’d put two and two together, assuming I’m a virgin. It makes sense. And as much as I hate to admit it, she’s not wrong. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old fucking virgin—not by choice, though.

I’m sure many women would think that a man my age who’s never fucked before would be useless, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Being locked away from the world since I was a kid has done nothing but twist and corrupt my already fractured mind.

Years in isolation gave me nothing but time—time to fantasize, obsess, and spiral into depravity. The poor woman who ends up being the first to endure me won’t just be touched by my insanity; she’ll be consumed by it. And here she is, sitting right in fucking front of me.

My cravings have evolved into something far darker, something wicked and sick. The years I spent rotting in that shithole have only sharpened the monster inside me, turned frustration into an insatiable hunger. When I finally unleash it, she’ll see. She’ll feel it. She’ll learn how deeply perverted and how irreparably deranged I’ve become. And when she does, she’ll understand—there’s no going back from me.

“Does it make me less of a man to you if I were a virgin, Kitten?” I ask, my teeth clenched, my voice low and edged with challenge. I watch her demeanor shift instantly, the playful giddiness vanishing as tension ripples through her.

“You think I can’t fuck you in a way your body needs, is that it?” I press, leaning in slightly, my eyes narrowing as I hold her gaze.

Her lips part, faltering. “No… I—”

I cut her off, my voice dark and cold. “You know, dominance isn’t something you’re taught, right? It’s not a fucking skill you pick up along the way or from screwing hundreds of women in the porn industry. Some men… some men are just born to be fucking animals. It runs naturally through their dick.”

Her breath gets lodged in her throat, and I see the flicker of something in her eyes—fear, intrigue, or maybe both.

“Through their tongue…” I murmur, my gaze tailing down to her bare legs, then flash back to hers. “Through their fingers…”

As I stare into her wide eyes, I feel it—the tight grip I’ve kept on my control beginning to snap. My darker thoughts creep in, eclipsing my restraint. The room feels heavier, the hissing fire a distant hum against the pounding in my ears.

Without a word, I let the fork slip from my fingers, the clink against the floor sounding louder than it should. Carefully, I rise to my feet, my gaze breaking from hers to focus somewhere beyond her. She stiffens instantly, her senses sharper than I expected. She feels it—that shift in the air, and she’d be right to feel that fucking way. Something is about to happen.

As I take a few steps toward her, she begins to shift back, scooting on her ass like a cornered animal. But before she can get far, I reach down and wrap my hand firmly around her throat, yanking her to her feet with an effortless pull. Her hands fly up, clutching at my wrist, her eyes expanded with shock as I apply just enough pressure to make her still.

I lean in, tilting my head until my lips ghost over hers. “Let’s see just what this virgin psycho boy can do, shall we?” I growl, my words dripping with promise and menace.

Her pretty eyes expand even further, fear flashing in them like a warning light, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. With a sharp shove, I send her sprawling onto the bed. She bounces lightly, her lips parting in a startled gasp before she scrambles onto her elbows.

I storm forward, my knees hitting the mattress as she retreats, her back meeting the headboard in her bid to escape. I lean over, grabbing her ankle and yank her back down the bed toward me.

A panicked squeak slips from her lips as I kneel between her legs. Her palms slam against my abs in a desperate attempt to push me away, but I snatch her wrists in one swift motion, pinning them above her head with one large hand, slamming them down against the mattress.

“Don’t test me, Kitten,” I hiss.

With my free hand, I reach into my pocket, pulling out the cold, metallic handcuffs and her eyes widen, the panic in her voice thick as she tries to twist away.

“Ty…” she barks, her tone trembling and urgent, but I don’t stop.

I snap one cuff around her wrist with a decisive click and before she can yank her arm back, I thread the chain through the wooden headboard and secure her other wrist. She’s pinned now, completely at my mercy, her breaths coming fast and shallow as realization sets in.

Without hesitation, I grab the hem of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing—my hoodie—and yank it upward, the fabric bunching and catching on her bound arms. The action leaves her chest exposed, her black, thin bra barely containing her heaving tits. She thrashes, her red hair falling wildly across her face as she shakes her head from side to side, trying to clear her vision, and when her eyes finally meet mine, they’re filled with a small edge of fury.

I let my gaze drag down her now-exposed body beneath me, her smooth stomach, the curve of her hips, and the black fabric of her panties that taunts me. She’s mine now, bound for me to do what I fucking want, and the hunger inside me burns hotter. Ready to take, ready to eat.

My eyes lock onto hers, a dark intensity burning between us as I lower my face, stopping just short of her trembling lips.

“Shh…” I hush. “Don’t make me duct tape that pretty mouth, Kitten. I want to hear every sound I’m about to pull from your beautiful body while I eat your pussy out.” My words come out with a desire that thickens the air between us.

Her body tenses, betraying the turmoil inside her. She’s torn, teetering on the edge of her morals, and I can see it all in her wide, watery eyes.

As I don’t break eye contact, my hand lowers, grazing her ribs and she jolts under my touch, her body reacting before her mind can process it. Her lips part slightly, as if about to protest, but no words come out. I can see through her, past her fucking morals, straight to the need she’s buried deep.

She wants this. She’s always fucking wanted this.

I’ve seen women before, a long time ago, but never like this—never someone I wanted to unravel, to dismantle and destroy until there’s nothing left untouched. She’s everything I thought she’d be and somehow more, perfect in ways that drive me even more utterly fucking insane.

I can’t wait any longer; I need to see her shatter completely. My hand moves upward, rough and urgent, my fingers digging beneath the wire of her bra. I push under until I’m grabbing the entirety of her breast tightly, fingers sharply pressing into the soft flesh, and her taunt nipple grazes against my palm. Her reaction is instant; her eyes flutter shut, lips parting as a gasp leaves her, her body yearning for more.

My hard cock, strains painfully against my jeans, desperate to be inside her pussy. I growl, yanking my hand out and I shove my finger between the bust, ripping it with a sharp tug until it breaks. I push the fabric away from her skin, revealing both of her perfect tits one by one, my feral eyes fixed on the movement.

As soon as they’re exposed to me, I grab one roughly, dipping down and sucking her nipple into my mouth. But I’m not soft, I’m exactly what I fucking am, rough. I devour her tit, biting sharply and sucking hard, causing her to hold in screams from the pain and pleasure I’m pulling from her squirming body.

My hand slides lower, over her trembling stomach, my fingers finding the edge of her panties. I push past it, dipping inside, until I feel the warmth of her pussy. My fingers press through her lips, exploring every part of her, smearing the wetness that drips from her little hole.

I shift quickly, pulling my hand out and sitting back on my knees. I grab the strings of the panties, aggressively pulling them down her legs, then spread her legs, pinning them down to the bed with a harshness that rattles her.

My head dips, my tongue flattening against her core and I flick it upward until I wrapping my lips around her clit, sucking on it hard. She moans loudly, louder than I’ve ever heard, her body struggling against the handcuffs as I start to devour her. My tongue dips inside her soaked cunthole as far as I can get, tasting her. My teeth sink into her throbbing clit and tender lips. I become rougher, drawing all kinds of sounds from her until she’s panting and tethering on the edge.

When I slip two fingers inside her tight pussy, her back arches in ecstasy, her hips bucking, needing more. I twist them inside her, exploring, trying to see what gets her going and when I find her spot, I press down on it and rub roughly as I shove my fingers in and out. I growl against her, giving her clit no fucking respite as I brutalize her hole with savage plunges. She gets wetter for me, dripping all over my digits, her gasps coming out erratic until suddenly she screams out. Her entire body convulses, and she almost restricts my fingers from moving, but I continue my onslaught, driving her further into bliss.

As she still recovering, I flip her onto her front and roughing lift her hips with a swift yank before pushing her legs further apart. I grab her cheeks, spreading her wide and I dive straight back in, shoving my tongue straight in her asshole. She gasps from the intrusion, but I don’t give a shit. Real men don’t shy away from tongue fucking both holes. They want to taste every part of their girl.

I bite on her asshole before sucking it harshly, then press two fingers back inside her pussy. The screams that escape her are everything and it makes me worse. I become more unhinged, ramming my fingers into the deepest depths of her cunt. I give her asshole a sharp spit before standing upright and then I whirl my finger around her puckered hole. I ease it in, and she tenses of course, but she’ll learn to do as she’s told.

When I’m knuckle deep inside her tight, warm tunnel, I start fucking both her holes until she comes twice over, her juices dripping down onto the mattress as she screams for me. I growl, finally withdrawing my fingers, giving her a taste of what I can do. Virgin or not. Before giving the side of her ass a sharp slap causing her tired body to jolt.