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As if the moment demands us, her leggings-clad thigh brushes against my erection; I hadn’t even realized how turned on I was until right then. Her resistance seems to falter at something so simple, and I watch as her eyes flick from anger to something primal.

“Fuck it,” she mutters, her voice barely audible over the hardening rain.

Her fists tangle in my hair hard enough that my scalp stings as she crashes her mouth to mine. The kiss is vicious, biting, and a collision of anger and need. I taste blood—hers, mine, even Robert’s maybe—but it only fuels the fire burning. My hands move of their own accord, rough and urgent; I yank at her pants, the fabric falling to expose her in the rain. Her skin is pale and smooth, glistening, yet the cold is doing nothing to dampen the heat radiating from her.

I spin her and press her against the slick railing, her ass thrust out toward me. She grunts at the impact, but doesn’t resist. Wynnie kicks one leg free of her leggings, but the other one is still looped in. I don’t wait for her to wrestle her way out of it; I release myself from my constrained pants, and I thrust into her with one unrelenting motion, my cock sinking deep into her with a groan resounding from my chest.

I’ve dreamt of this moment, time and time again, and while I always thought I’d romance her, sweeping her off her feet, after the night we’ve had, this almost feels perfect. Each of us, allowing our frustrations an escape.

The sound of her rasped whimper sends a shiver up my spine. Each thrust is a punishment and a claim over her. My hips slam into her, skin slapping skin, the rhythm tenacious. My fingers grip her hips so tight they put divots in her skin, and I can tell it’ll bruise; my other hand tangles in her hair, pulling her head back so she can’t look away. I want her to know it’s me filling her with every inch.

I don’t want to allow her the ability to pretend it’s someone else fucking her.

“Harder,” she says, her voice strained in her throat as she bucks back against me.

I don’t need to be told twice.

I pound into her; my thrusts become more savage, more desperate. The rail, on which the top of her body rests, shakes beneath her, creaking under every force forward. My ears are filled only with the sounds of her moans and cries as I feel her constricting around me.

“Let go, darling. Be mine,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

Wynnie’s release comes suddenly, her body spasming around mine as she screams into the open air. Her arousal runs down my shaft, mixing with the falling water. I feel her knees buckle, but I keep her held up, her body trembling as I continue to thrust through her aftershocks.

It doesn’t take long for me to follow behind. When the pressure builds, I pull out, my cock twitching as I streak ropes of cum across her ass, and a string of guttural curse words fall from my mouth.

Breath ragged, I spin her back around slowly so I can take a good look at her. Her hair is plastered to her face, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with something I can’t name. Neither of us speaks for a beat, as we both take in what has just happened.

“You still want to kill me?” I ask through an exhale.

“Of course,” she tells me with a smile.

I place a small kiss on her forehead, mirroring her grin. “Good, because I’m not done with you yet.”

She gathers her pants and underwear, looking up at me as she does so. The vulnerability from moments before vanished.

“What are we now?” I tease, a twinge of hope that she’ll give in to me.

“Nothing. That’s a one-time enemies-with-benefits kind of thing.”

I tilt my head, watching her retreat into the safety of anger and denial. She walks back into my room as if she owns it, and I follow, knowing the declaration is just another lie she needs to tell herself.

18

Darling

Being fucked on the edge of a balcony by a murderer who also happens to be my stalker has me questioning every life choice I’ve ever made because… why? Why the fuck did I allow that to happen? And why did I like it?

It’s as if the feeling of his fingers has been ingrained into my skin. The way he told me to be his—the thought sends a wave of heat throughout me, even as shame twists. And though I said we were just enemies with benefits, more as a joke to get under his skin, I’m not sure I actually mean it anymore. It’s clear to me now that nothing will ever compare to Preston being that close to me. In me. There’s something else there, an intensity I never knew I craved, a darkness that’s called to something buried deep within my soul.

The shower has done nothing to wash the feeling of him away. If anything, the hot water only intensifies the memory. Every drop that cascades down my skin reminds me of rain pouring on my exposed skin. I stay in there far longer than necessary, allowing the heat to punish me for wanting what I shouldn’t want.

After stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in one of his impossibly soft robes, I find myself back out on the same balcony. The rain has stopped, but the cold air bites at my damp skin through the robe.

I light a cigarette with trembling fingers; the flame casts a brief shadow on the side of my face. The first drag fills my lungs with an unfamiliar poison, and I exhale slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the darkness. I may as well hurry the process of death with these.

Sinking onto the cold concrete floor, I lean back against the metal railing off to the side so I can look at the hundreds of lights still littering the town. Up here, the world seems small and distant. I can almost pretend the blood spills I caused are just a bad dream.

But it’s not. And I’m not supposed to be here, on this balcony, smoking and drowning in the thought of a man who’s turned everything I thought I knew upside down.