Firethorne

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Maya

I nstantly, Damien pulled his hand from between my legs, and my supple, soft body went cold and rigid when I heard that voice.

I turned to face Firethorne as Damien stepped away from me, the fire in my veins rushing to my cheeks as I panicked, hoping he hadn’t seen what I thought he’d seen.

Firethorne was standing in the hallway, glaring at us, his hands fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched painfully tight, and a venomous glare in his eyes. Beresford was standing beside him with his nose wrinkled in disgust, and judging by the way his eyes were narrowed on me, I knew he’d seen everything.

“Answer me!” Firethorne barked, and Damien just cleared his throat and stepped forward, pushing his hands into his trousers like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Damien replied, and I didn’t even need to look at his face to know he was smirking. “We’re having a party.”

“Then shut it down,” Firethorne snapped, pointing his finger at Damien. “I want everyone out of here. Now. And that includes her.” He snapped his finger at Beresford and said, “Take her home.”

But I wasn’t going to be walked home by Beresford or anyone else. I was already mortified about this night, and being found doing what we were doing in this hallway, I didn’t need to prolong the agony.

“I’m fine. I can make my own way home,” I said, stalking down the hallway, desperate to move past the two older men and get out of this house.

But I’d barely made it down the hallway when I heard Firethorne bark, “Follow her.” And Beresford responded, “Yes, Sir.”

I didn’t want him to follow me, but when Damien announced, “I’ll walk her back,” I started to speed up. I didn’t want either of them coming after me. I wanted to be alone.

“Not you,” Firethorne bellowed down the halls. “You need to stay here and clean up the fucking mess you’ve made.” He continued shouting obscenities at Damien, but I didn’t stick around to hear any more.

I flung the front doors of the mansion open and ran down the steps onto the gravel drive. Then, without looking back, I marched forward, intent on heading straight home.

It was hard to walk with any speed or urgency in the ridiculous heels I was wearing, and as I stumbled, almost toppling to the floor, I heard Damien, call out, “Careful,” and his warm hand reached out to grab my arm.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to walk me home,” I snapped, pulling my arm out of his grasp. “Your father doesn’t want you following me, remember?”

“Like I give a fuck what my father wants,” he hissed. “I don’t take orders from him.”

“Are you sure about that?” I goaded, huffing as I tried to walk faster and put some distance between us. But his strides were bigger than mine. I wasn’t escaping him any time soon.

“Positive. I’m not his fucking lapdog. I leave that to my brother.”

I didn’t want to engage with him, I didn’t even want to look at him. I was scared what might happen if I did. So, I kept striding forward, focusing on getting back to the cabin as quickly as possible. Back to normality, if that even existed for me now.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” he went on. “It’s dark. Anything could happen to you.”

I hadn’t even noticed that the lights Lysander had been so sure he’d get installed when we first came here had never materialised.

“It’s not the dark I’m afraid of,” I sneered, and he gave a low, gruff chuckle.

“I’m glad you think like that. The monsters in this place don’t hide in the shadows. They’re not afraid to stand right in front of you, smiling in broad daylight.”

“Don’t I know it,” I spat back.

I carried on marching through the woodland, blocking him out as I got closer and closer to the cabin. But he was like a dog with a fucking bone. He wouldn’t let me go.

“Do you really want to stay here, after everything you’ve seen tonight?” he questioned. “After everything that’s happened?”

I stopped and spun around to face him.

“No. I don’t want to fucking stay here,” I seethed. “But I’m going nowhere without my father.”

“Why? Is his hold on you that tight?”

I stepped towards him, pointing my finger in his face. The moonlight reflecting off his skull-painted face made him even more demon-like, but I stood my ground.

“My relationship with my father is none of your fucking business. And the minute I tell him what I saw tonight, and what you did, we’ll be out of here.”

“What I did?” Damien pushed his face close to mine, fury rolling off him as he clenched his jaw. “Don’t you mean what we did. I don’t remember you telling me to stop, Maya.”

He was right.

“I don’t have time for this,” I huffed, and turned my back on him, stomping away. But he continued to follow me.

“If you wanna leave, I’ll take you right now. Drive you off this fucking estate to the train station and buy you the goddamn ticket myself. I’ll even walk you onto the damn train.”

I ignored him. I’d already told him I wouldn’t leave without my father. But he kept on.

“I mean it. You need to leave.”

“And you need to leave me the fuck alone,” I replied, as the dim lights of the cabin came into view.

Once I reached the porch, I called out to him, “Stay away from me and stay away from my father. I don’t ever want to see you again.” And then I ran up the steps and into the cabin, slamming the door behind me, and then leaning against it, letting out a breath, relieved that I was finally alone.

I managed to compose myself, then called out my father’s name, expecting him to be here, now that Firethorne was back. But I was met with silence, so I raced across the living room, heading for my bedroom, and once inside, I closed the door.

I pulled the devil horn hairband off my head and threw it onto my dresser, then grabbed my oversized band T-shirt from my drawers. I sat on the bed and unzipped my boots, pulled them off with a feeling of relief and then stood up to slip the dress off, shimmying as it fell to the floor. I put my T-shirt on, turned the light off and lay on the bed, trying to focus on my breathing and not the pornographic film playing over and over in my head.

I stared at the ceiling as the moon cast shadows over it, reminding me that my curtains were open. I thought about getting up and closing them, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy.

So, I lay there, thinking about what had happened. How Lysander had shown me parts of himself since I’d been here. Parts that made me warm to him, something I didn’t do easily in life. And yet, tonight, I’d discovered another side to him. A side that was secret, forbidden, something he’d wanted to share with me, if Damien was to be believed. But would he really go so far as to drug my drink to do that?

Because that was a fucked-up way to bring me into his world.

It was all such a mindfuck.

They were a mindfuck.

And then, my thoughts turned to Damien. Darkly disturbing, and yet morbidly intriguing Damien. The man who made me want to tear my own hair out or throw all the books in the goddamn library at his head.

But...

I couldn’t deny...

When he’d touched me...

He’d had me under his spell.

What was that about?

And why did I succumb to him so easily?

I lay in the dark and thought about everything he’d said, the warnings, the threats. And then I thought about what he’d done, and how he’d made me feel. I wasn’t ashamed to say I’d never come before. I’d never been with anyone in that way. I was a virgin. Sure, I’d touched myself, but I’d never had that reaction. And maybe I should’ve felt shameful, but I didn’t. I felt liberated. He had made me feel liberated, and I wanted more.

I glanced at the window at the end of the bed. The window overlooking the dark night and the woodlands. And I imagined he was still out there, standing amongst the trees, watching me, holding his breath, waiting to see what I’d do next.

I imagined him staring at the way I lay on my back on the bed, my T-shirt barely covering my ass, ready to show him everything.

And then, keeping my eyes on that window, I opened my legs, baring myself to the night, and to him. Tonight was a night for forbidden promises, for passion, and I was curious if I could recreate what he’d done, build on what he’d started.

I reached between my legs, and with my fingers, I started to stroke myself in the same way that he’d done, my fingertips grazing my swollen, wet pussy, igniting the flames he’d started, making them burn brighter. It didn’t take long for that burn to grow stronger, that delicious pulse to pound harder, and I lifted my hips, edging myself as I stroked, circled and then pushed my fingers inside myself.

And all the time, I imagined him outside, watching me, touching himself because he was so fucking turned on by the show that I was putting on for him. I pictured him taking out his long, thick cock and stroking it as he groaned, imagining that his hand was my pussy. That my walls were wrapped tightly around his cock, gripping him, milking him, making him come and bringing him to his knees like a motherfucking queen. I arched my back, my legs trembling as I imagined him moving closer to the window, wanting to get to me, to claim me. My fingers rubbed faster, harder, as I fantasised.

Would he climb through the window?

Pin me to the bed and take what he wanted?

Would he make me his dirty slut?

Those thoughts ignited something powerful inside me, and I exploded, coming so hard I cried out as my body buckled. My legs shook, my pussy throbbed, and my clit pounded, making me press and hold my hand over myself, willing the feelings to never end, to go on and on and on. With my eyes closed, I savoured every spark, every ripple that ran through me. And then, as the sensation ebbed away, I sighed, feeling totally and utterly spent.

I needed to shower. I needed to move, but I couldn’t. All I could do was lie still and thank God I was a woman. Because that was something I’d definitely be doing again.

My eyes shot open as I lay in the darkness of my room. I’d fallen asleep on top of the covers of my bed, but instantly, I knew something felt off. I didn’t move as my eyes flittered around, watching the shadows as they danced on the walls, the moonlight casting spells over them, making my heart race and my mind play tricks.

Did something just move in the corner?

I listened carefully, expecting to hear the creak of a floorboard or silent footsteps, but all I heard was the eerie whistle of the wind outside as it passed through the cracks in the window, invading my room, curling around my already cold body. My skin prickled as goosebumps appeared, and I gasped as a shadowed branch from a tree outside appeared to scratch at the wall. Whistling winds and shadows. I was letting them play tricks on me like I did when I was a kid. There was nothing there. I needed to get up and close the curtains, maybe then I might feel a little more relaxed.

But as I turned to get up off the bed, those shadows moved faster. A dark figure from the corner of the room lunged towards me.

My racing heart became an eruption of fear, my mind struggling to comprehend what was happening, but the adrenaline in my body was way ahead of it, telling me I needed to run. Warning me that I was in danger.

I gasped, ready to shout out, but a hand slapped over my mouth. A strong, manly hand.

I clawed at it, kicking my legs, trying to get free, scratching the skin of his hand in an effort to get him off of me. But it was no use, because in his hand was a cotton handkerchief, a handkerchief doused in chemicals, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight hard enough. Lord knows I tried, but it was pointless.

And within seconds...

My world was lost to darkness.