Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wyn

My whole body is trembling. I don’t know what to say, or what to do. I’m completely trapped with no possible hope of escape—and that is a very fucked up feeling. A feeling I don’t know how to process.

He pulls in another deep breath. “We belong together, Wyn. Why don’t you get that?”

“I’m cold. W-why don’t we go back to my place?” I say if only to distract him a little. Maybe it’ll give me time to talk him out of this delusional thinking.

Instead of responding, he lifts a hand from the railing and brings it up to push the strap of my tank top down. I’m not wearing a bra, so when the tank top sags, my left breast is exposed. His large hand cups my breast, and the warmth of his hand spreads through me.

He brushes his thumb across my nipple, his mouth hovering over mine. “Do you know what you do to me, Wyn? Do you have any fucking clue?”

I swallow back a moan as tingles trickle down my spine. His touch is electric, igniting everything it touches. My nipple stiffens under the gentle enticement of his thumb.

“You’ve convinced yourself I’m special, Lucas, but I’m not,” I say, and it’s the truth. I’m no different than any other girl attending ExU. I have the same fears and hangups as anyone else. And the same attraction to hot, toxic men, too, apparently.

He laughs. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He pulls my other strap down, so both breasts are free now. Then he pulls back and stares down at me. “I wish I could see you better,” he says. “But this will have to do.”

I open my mouth to ask what he’s going to do, but before I can, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and tugs them down. My underwear comes down along with my sweats, and I gasp.

“What are you doing?” I push at his shoulder, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice me. He lifts my left leg, and pulls my sweats and panties free, then repeats that with my right leg.

Now, I’m standing in front of him naked, with only my tank top scrunched around my ribcage. I shiver against the cold, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he says with amusement in his voice. “I’m going to fuck you, Wyn Barker. I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”

I’d snap back at that, but I’m too terrified. Being naked with a guy who murders for fun, on the edge of a twenty-foot cliff, will do that to a girl. I’m surprised I’m still conscious, quite honestly.

He unzips his pants. All I can see is the movement of his arms, but I know that’s what’s happening. He bends slightly, and grabs the backs of my thighs, picking me up and placing my ass on the edge of the railing.

Holy shit. I squeak and grab a fistful of his shirt. “Lucas, I’m going to fall,” I say, panic gripping me by the throat. One wrong move and I’m dead. That’s it. Below me, there’s nothing but giant rocks and cold ocean water to catch my fall. “ Please. ”

“Mmm, I like hearing you beg,” he says.

I hook my heels around his legs and cling to him. His one arm is hooked around the small of my back, while he guides the head of his cock along the length of my entrance.

Oh, shit. Oh, my God. My clit instantly starts to thrum with need and my thighs relax a little, opening up to him. With a low chuckle, he peppers kisses down the column of my throat. “Do you think about this?” he asks, his warm breath brushing over my skin. “About me fucking you?”

I don’t respond.

He tightens his hold around my back as he pushes into me, and moans loudly, the sound of a tormented man. He pushes in as deep as he can, then pauses, like he’s gathering himself, his head resting on my shoulder.

“ Fuck ,” he says, lifting his head. “You feel like heaven, Wyn.”

The muscles inside my pussy clench, and he begins rocking against me. My body opens up, welcoming him in, pulling him in deeper. Dear God. He feels so good—filling me, stretching me, his pelvis slamming into my clit.

One arm is encircled around me, preventing me from falling, while the other hand grabs me by the throat—squeezing until I can barely breathe. Pleasure mutates into pain as his thrusts become more brutal, more savage. He slams into me with so much force, squeezing my windpipe, tears prick the backs of my eyes.

The wood railing moves under the force of his punishing thrusts and I wonder, briefly, if it’s strong enough to take this kind of beating. If it gives way, then we both plunge into the ocean below.

I suck in little gulps of air as he continues his assault, the pain sparking something inside me. A deep, clawing need for more .

“I would sell my soul for you, Wyn” he says, releasing my throat, so he can sink his teeth into the skin just below my ear. Sharp pain spikes through me, and I moan. “I would lie for you,” he whispers against my skin. “I would die for you…”

His thrusts become more measured and more violent, his cock slamming into me mercilessly. I’m so close to the edge of an orgasm, I hold my breath. My muscles tighten, preparing for the onslaught of sensation.

Then it happens, with one last powerful thrust, he stiffens, and my orgasm slams into so impossibly deep, it feels like he’s ripping me apart. “I would kill for you…” he chokes out, the sound strangled. Tortured.

I hear the words, but I’m gasping, drowning in sensation as my own orgasm crashes into me—and I cling to him, my channel clenching around him, milking his cock.

As the echoes of my orgasm begin to fade, he lifts me off the railing, our bodies still connected until he sets me down on my feet. He’s breathing like he just ran a marathon, and he shoves his cock back into his pants, zipping up.

I pull my tank top back up as I heave, trying to catch my breath. I can’t even see where my sweatpants landed, but I don’t need to, because he grabs them, along with my underwear, and helps me step into them.

All the while, his words circle inside my head…

I would kill for you.

Once I’m dressed, he straightens and I push past him to walk down the ramp.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

What a dumb-ass question. “Don’t worry about it,” I say over my shoulder, already picking my way down the hill.

In my mind, I storm off down the beach dramatically. But it’s dark, I’m barefoot, and my entire body aches, so my exit isn’t quite as elegant as I hoped it would be. I make my way down the hill, wincing every time my foot finds a stick or rock, which is every three-fucking-seconds.

“Wyn,” he says from behind me. “Wait. We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say stiffly, finally making my way down to the soft sand. Thank God.

He catches up to me quickly, his hand clamping around my arm, pulling me to a stop. I turn to him with a huff, and I wish he could see my face—but it’s too dark. He’d see a scowl.

“What were you told about my arrest?” he asks sternly.

I try to pull my arm out of his grip, but the movement only causes him to squeeze harder. “Does it matter, Lucas? Really?”

“Of course, it matters,” he says, anger creeping into his tone. “Why wouldn’t it matter, Wyn?”

“Because this toxic fucked up thing between us isn’t actually a thing,” I spit out.

He releases my arm. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“ This ,” I scream, gesturing between us wildly. “You. Me. We’re not a thing, Lucas, so it doesn’t matter why you were arrested. I don’t give a fuck.”

I wish that were actually true, but maybe, one day, with some time and distance, it will be. I just hope he doesn’t pick up on the lie.

I start walking again, a little faster now, and of course, he follows me. But his legs are longer, so he gets ahead of me, turning to face me as he walks backward. “Answer my question, Wyn. What did you hear?”

We’re about twenty feet away from the bonfire now. Not so close that people can hear us, but close enough to be near people, in case Lucas gets murder-y.

I stop, and he stops, too, so now we’re facing each other. His back is to the fire, so his face is cast in shadow, but I can feel the tension radiating off his body. “It’s not what I heard, Lucas. It’s what I saw.”

The sound of laughter and music drifts on the breeze, but Lucas says nothing.

“What did you see?” he asks, finally, and maybe I’m just imagining it, but it sounds like his voice faltered there for a split second.

I shift on my feet and lower my voice. “I saw you push someone you thought was Gabriel in front of a train…” I swallow. “But what I don’t get is why? ”

And maybe more importantly, how? How could he bring himself to do something so sadistic?

He doesn’t answer me right away, and I wonder if my initial instincts about him were right all along. Maybe Lucas West really is the devil…