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His look of satisfaction at my devastated silence is too much for me to bear any longer. I turn and run. Like we’re teenagers all over again, I flee from him. Blinking back the sting of threatening tears the entire way, I sprint to my home, desperate to be alone. Desperate to lock myself away in the one place he can’t get to me.
8
DOMINIC
My feet carryme down the sidewalk at a punishing pace, in the complete opposite direction of the one Shiloh ran off in. Each thunderous step I take pounds an echo of my stormy mood.
That got a little out of hand.
The image of Shiloh’s face, flushed and defiant, is seared into my eyeballs, refusing to fade no matter how many times I blink. My ears still ring with the tremor in her voice as she tried so hard to stand up to me. Even as I shake with rage, I can’t deny the thrill that hums in my veins–and the pang, albeit small, ofguiltfor making her cry.
Fuck me. Fuck this town. And fuck her.
An elderly couple strolling hand in hand practically dive out of my way as I march down the sidewalk, likely sensing the hostility rolling off me in waves.
“Watch where you’re walking, Dominic Blackwood!” the woman shrieks at my back. I didn’t spare them a glance to see who they were, but they obviously recognized me.
“Eat a dick, you old crone,” I mutter, keeping my words hushed just to avoid another phone call from my mother.
The only justification I can conjure for being so furious at Shiloh is frustration at how utterly wrong she is. I’ve never resented her for my mother’s affair, and never blamed her for the years I had to spend trapped here. What an absurd idea to think I held her responsible for the choices our parents made and forced us both to endure.
Truth is, the years have shown me just how much of a raging asshole my father can be. I knew it back then, but I know it better now. He drove my mother away with his fierce ambition and neglect. Nothing matters to him beyond money and power–not his wife and not his own fucking kid.
He didn’t even care whereIended up, until the day he realized he needed time to mold his sole heir and demanded I return to the city.“If you’re not a shark in this world, you’re a worm.”He used to tell me, over and over again until I learned to think and act like he does.
If I’m as fucked up as Shiloh claims, no doubthe’sthe one to blame.
And for the record, the reason I tortured my step sister so harshly when we were kids was because she made it too damn easy. The parts of my DNA I inherited from my father relished the power too much. Shiloh was always such a cowardly little mouse, letting everyone walk all over her in the hopes they’d love her for it.
It was so pathetic, I couldn’t help myself. She was beneath me. They all are. I can’t resist the sweet satisfaction of proving it time and again. Like today, Shiloh tried so hard to prove she’s grown a backbone over the last eleven years, and it was too tempting to crush it.
No wonder I’m obsessed.
My mind flashes back to only moments before. Those bright blue eyes are stunning when they glisten with unshed tears. The way her lower lip trembles when she’s fighting to hold herselftogether, it’s sinfully delicious. And the slight catch in her breath when I leaned in close, invading her personal space? I could live on that shit for a hundred years.
I’d reduced her to a pretty little mess with nothing more than a few harsh words, and the power of it was the most intoxicating drug I’ve ever tasted. I want to do it again. I want to see how far I can make her bend before she breaks completely.
Fuck, I want destroy her.
The realization that my cock is rock hard in my tailored slacks hits me like a ton of bricks. For the first time, I’m grateful that I’m not walking the busy streets of Manhattan. The last thing I want is to be recognized sporting a raging hard-on in the middle of the sidewalk. I force myself to keep moving, trying to think of anything that will distract me from the ache inside my boxers. But it’s hopeless, my mind just keeps circling back to Shiloh. To the way she crumbled right before my eyes. The way she ran from me just like she used to.
The B&B finally comes into view, and I almost groan with relief. I take the porch steps two at a time, surging through the foyer without sparing the waving owners a second glance. I just need the privacy of my room.
I slam the door behind me much harder than I intended. Breathing heavily, I lean against the chipped paint, my cock still painfully hard. The tension coiled in my gut is almost unbearable, tangled live wires of need and frustration. Still, I try to claw back control.
Pacing the room like a caged animal, I can only make it five steps in each direction before I have to turn around again. This shitty room is claustrophobic as fuck, nothing like my sprawling apartment back home. But right now, my whole world seems to have narrowed down to one singular focus, balanced on a knife edge.
Shiloh.
My fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to touch her, to grab fistfuls of that blonde hair and yank her head back with all my strength. I want to trace the delicate skin of her throat and feel her erratic pulse flutter beneath my palm.
But all I can do instead is throw myself down on my bed in agonized frustration and pull out my phone. Just as I’ve done every night this week, I pull up her Instagram, my eyes devouring every image with a new hunger.
I scroll through each snapshot with rapt attention, though I’ve got every one memorized already. In one, she smiles in front of a gleaming whiteboard in her classroom. In another, she’s beaming over the top of a precarious tower of books.
She looks so fucking innocent.
My dick throbs, and I groan again, giving into the inevitable. I slowly unzip my pants, yanking down my underwear until my erection springs free, flushed, leaking, and desperate for attention. I can’t remember the last time I was this hard.
