Page 17 of Fatal Scheme

“You know what this means, Stellina?” Tyson asks, tilting my chin, effectively cutting off my air supply as Jasper’s grip tightens so hard, my vision starts going black at the corners.

Attempting to swallow around Jasper’s palm, I realize the predicament I’m in, my body pinned against Tyson’s muscular frame, and although I should be terrified, afraid that they could snuff the life out of me at any second, I’ve never felt more fucking alive, running off adrenaline and lust.

Finally I concede, shaking my head to answer Tyson’s question, but not moving much due to how they’ve immobilized me, and a smirk erupts across both their faces at my struggle.

“You belong to us, now.” He presses his lips to mine once more, and just as I’m about to pass out from a lack of oxygen, Jasper releases me, and I feel the life re-enter my body as my tongue tangles with Tyson’s in a slow, rhythmic pace.

I’m not theirs in any sense of the word, but for now, I need them to believe that as fact, and if I get off from it a few times, it’s a win for us all.

But eventually this will end, and when I strike, I’ll burn their whole lives to the ground, carefully stepping over the ashes as I make my way to the throne.

NINE

JASPER

A few hours ago, I was ready to drag Carter to my basement and torture her until she confessed her motives, employers, and any other information I deemed necessary, but I was dead wrong about her, and am left wishing I’d seen the signs.

Looking back, it was obvious that she’s running away from something, rather than hiding in plain sight, and the second I saw the scars on her back, my vision turned red.

The primal instincts within me want to hunt and kill whoever hurt my Principessina, but she swears that it’s taken care of, and that she doesn’t need us to fight her battles.

For now, I choose to let it go, but one day I will find out exactly how she got those scars, and seek revenge for each and every slice on her back, the number at least eleven by my count.

This girl has been beaten, probably worse than she’s letting on, and all I want is to shield her from that pain, and replace it with the delicious sensation that occurs when you mix consensual struggle with pleasure.

As I watch her writhe on top of Tyson, I can’t help but lose myself in her, and every move she makes.

I’m entranced by her body, the fearless way she submits to us both, all of our darkest sides coming out to play, and she takes every command like she was perfectly made to be with the two of us.

Tyson is on one end of the spectrum, choosing to be dominant and aggressive in bed, while I tend to explore the more sensual side of sex, contrary to how either of us operate in the real world.

Right now, Carter is stuck on our tether, being pulled between the Angel and the Devil, unbeknownst to her, because there’s not a chance in hell that the first time I sink into her pussy will be in a car off the side of the parkway.

“Go back to him, baby girl, it’s okay,” Ty says in her ear, the goosebumps visibly erupting across her arms as she does what she’s told.

In a split second, she climbs into my lap, sweeping her curls into her hand as she sinks perfectly into my chest, like she was built to fit against me like a missing puzzle piece.

“Jasper,” she rasps, her voice hoarse from how hard I was choking her.

“Yes, Principessina?”

“I’m not fucking you in this truck,” she hums, a slight giggle coming from her chest as she rests her head on my shoulder.

“Oh, no, my little ice princess. The first time I take that pretty pussy is going to involve something so sinister, you might pass out from how hard I edge you,” I whisper in her ear, winking at Tyson while he puts the truck in reverse, driving us away from the scene of our lust-filled crimes.

“Bring it on, Stalker Boy,” she groans, that spitfire mouth of hers my absolute favorite trait she possesses, always keeping me on my toes.

“Has anyone fucked you before, Carter? Looked into your eyes while they plowed into your beautiful little body?” I ask, digging into her mind while I tease my hand under her shirt, rubbing my hands along the soft skin of her belly.

“Just once,” she answers, and I nearly combust, absolutely floored that she’s only been touched by one other man.

“One person?” I repeat, keeping my voice low and speaking directly into her ear.

“No, like, I’ve had sex once,” she admits, and I swear to God, I almost meet the maker himself as my heart stops beating in my chest.

There’s no way that this beautiful goddess of a woman has only had sex once, likely not even experiencing a proper orgasm, and everything I’ve learned about her in the last hour has made me feral to obliterate the previous men who had the privilege of holding her body in their arms, and doing nothing to appreciate her as the masterpiece she is.

“Jesus Christ, Carter. Are you trying to kill me?” I groan, thrusting once so she feels how fucking hard I am for her.