Chapter Three

Justine

AFTER SPENDING SO many years in this house, I thought I would know it pretty well.

Except I don’t know a thing once Campbell has their hands on me, forcing the air from my lungs until I’m throbbing with need. Arousal and adrenaline blank my mind like a fifth of vodka, but behind such searing emptiness is clarity of purpose. If I obey, if I let them cut me off from the rest of the world, fear loses its potency. No matter how far or hard I fall, Campbell will be waiting in the dark to catch me.

My first step starts small, feeling out the tile through my stockings. There’s no sense of how far I have to go outside the foyer or what direction I’m facing, even though I’ve done this ten thousand times before. Campbell’s body is a beacon of heat behind me, and the bulge pressing against my ass speaks of undeniable intent.

When I move, they move, never letting me get more than an inch away. When the tile tapers over to carpet, I stiffen, startled by the sudden change in sensation. Unable to see and boxed in by Campbell’s strength, even the softest touch is a damning blow. A second’s friction between my thighs may as well be a caress, phantom fingertips warning how much slick heat is hidden just out of sight.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Campbell snaps against my ear, low and vicious. “Walk.”

An apology rises to my lips before I choke it back down. Being sorry doesn’t matter in the least; what matters is letting that command wash over me, courting bliss, spreading myself open to oblivion. I half expect them to distract me along the way, claiming my body with those scandalous hands, but I’m denied until my knees suddenly bump into something. It takes a second to translate the blend of wood and satin to the back of my couch, and in that instant, Campbell seizes my hips.

“Do you know why I wanted to have you in the living room, Justine?”

Asking me anything in this state is cruel, but cruelty is exactly what I asked for. “No.”

Their fingers tighten, almost bruising; I choke on a moan. “Not even the first idea?”

“I…” Campbell wouldn’t press if there wasn’t a right answer, but thinking verges on impossible when my clit aches with its own demanding pulse. “Because someone could hear? If anyone came through the front door, they could see us?”

A thoughtful hum vibrates through their throat. “Do you like the idea of getting caught while I’m fucking you?”

My legs press together under my dress, giving away the truth before I can fit the answer into a single word. “Yes.”

“I’ll remember that.” Their hold relaxes, sliding to my back instead. Campbell draws a line of heat up my spine with blunt nails, then unhooks the clasp at the top of my dress, exposing the nape of my neck. “You gave me a good answer, but not the right one.”

I shiver, not sure whether or not to expect punishment for the mistake, but Campbell is possessed by a singular drive, stripping me down piece by piece. My dress meets the floor in a whisper of linen, surrounding my ankles like a gentle shackle. They murmur approval at the lingerie they find underneath, but that doesn’t stop my bra from suffering the same fate, hooks undone and lace abandoned by our feet.

“The reason I wanted you in the living room,” Campbell says, one hand traversing my stomach in a slow stroke, too light to do anything but fray my nerves, “is because I killed Richard at the table right next to us, and I hope he’s watching from the very last circle of Hell when I make you come.”

The words are an ambush, but Campbell drives the blow deeper by cupping hard and sudden between my thighs. I’m wet, so fucking wet, dripping at Campbell’s touch as if there isn’t a barrier of silk separating their fingers from my pussy. My hips jerk forward, a tortured sound wrenched from the bottom of my throat, blotting out every sense of human language except for one shaking syllable: “Please.”

“Before the end, I told him that I had you for myself.” Their tone is light, unmoved, as if I’m not rutting helplessly against the curve of their palm. “He died knowing I was the last person to ever touch his wife.”

By any logic, I’m powerless, blind and nearly naked with an assassin toying with the most sensitive parts of me, but the blazing, vindictive rush that overtakes my body is anything but weak. Joy eclipses me, knowing this moment is all mine; Campbell is all mine. This house, this pleasure, every drop of blood on my hands: mine. There’s no going back, but God, why would I want to?

Then Campbell’s hand slips away, and a gasp of protest leaves my lips before I can stop the sound. “Please, don’t—”

They cut me off with a different hold entirely, wrists yanked behind my back. “You’re going to have to earn it, Justine.”

I’m marched around the length of the couch until the cushions press against my calves, and Campbell takes their place in front of me. They let my arms fall to either side but stay silent, leaving me to imagine where those cold gray eyes are lingering. It could be anywhere; the hint of sweat at the base of my throat, my hard nipples exposed to the tempered air of the house, the tremor in my legs giving away how much I need their touch.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

I sink without a thought, clinging to Campbell’s voice like an anchor. Soft carpet tickles through my stockings, so domestic compared to the wild fantasies unfurling in my head one by one. The clink of a belt buckle right in front of my face makes me shiver, the sound followed by the long rasp of Campbell’s zipper.

One hand cups my cheek, and their thumb sweeps over my lower lip, toying with my mouth when I try to taste their skin with a swift dart of my tongue. They press down against it, urging my jaw open until I’m panting quietly.

“Look how gorgeous you are,” Campbell whispers, and the unadorned praise makes me clench tight around nothing. “I’m going to use this beautiful mouth of yours until I’m satisfied. Then I’m going to fuck you exactly like you deserve.”

Their name comes out strangled, unraveled against those questing fingers, but the wicked sound that leaves Campbell’s lips tells me nothing is lost in translation. I claw down another breath when their hand withdraws, given little more than a second’s reprieve before Campbell’s length pushes against my mouth, the thick head seeking entrance. With a moan, I relax my jaw and let them in.

I know how strong Campbell is. They could be unspeakably rough here, pushing past reflexive resistance until I take them the whole way, but the other trait Campbell holds in spades is patience. Every thrust is slow, testing how much I can handle, then pushing a touch further. By the time their shaft touches the back of my throat, I’ve been seduced by that careful rhythm, unable to focus on anything but the way Campbell fills me, salt and sex pouring through my senses each time I breathe in.

One hand cradles the crown of my head, stroking my hair above the velvet band of the blindfold before Campbell says, “Take a deep breath for me.”

They ease away just enough to allow it, and I steal every bit of air I can before Campbell pushes to the hilt. My nose ends up flush against their stomach, the sculpted muscle there flexing to keep their hips still. A low groan betrays Campbell’s pleasure and ignites my own in return, latching on to that lapse of control. Having them this deep in my throat when I want them between my thighs is unfair, but the moment of surrender is no less incredible.

I forget about fear because this darkness is familiar, holding no challenge save for Campbell’s test against my endurance. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes, lungs fighting for air, but I swallow around them anyway, greedy for it. Their grip tightens, locking me in place, and a second before the sharp, glittering haze over my mind threatens to drag me under completely, Campbell pulls out of my mouth in one sudden movement.

Gasping floods my body with much-needed oxygen, but respite is visceral, cast in sunken relief against what I’ve been refused. I sob and would collapse completely if not for Campbell’s hold, keeping me safe, suspended. Their other hand wipes my tears from where they’ve soaked through the blindfold without judgment, treating them delicately as jewels.

“Now ask for what you want,” Campbell says.

Speech is almost beyond what I’m capable of, but desire runs roughshod over everything else. “I want you to fuck me. I want to come, want you to use me, not to stop—don’t tease me again, don’t make me wait—”

Their weight shifts, and Campbell’s mouth finds mine in a kiss that tears me asunder. I whimper against their lips, plaintive, and they whisper back, “No more waiting. Just give in.”

Then I’m off the floor, losing any notion of gravity or direction until my back meets the couch. Campbell has my panties down around my knees before I can so much as react, then off past my ankles the instant cool air touches the core of heat in my pussy. Their legs part mine, forcing them wide, and Campbell is on top of me, shaft pressing hard against my stomach. The length is still slick from my mouth, and a firm shift of Campbell’s hips brings them in line with my entrance. They thrust deep, bringing our bodies together with a single stroke.

Ecstasy undoes me, an entire morning of denial brought to bear. I’m wet enough to take their demanding pace with ease, and every time their hips pump forward, a star of pleasure bursts white-hot behind my eyes. One chains into another, a constellation written from my hips up the length of my back. Campbell is ruthless in the exact way I begged for, moving inside me as if we were never built for anything else.

Their teeth brand my throat, overlaying old marks with a new frisson of pain, embedding the garrote’s path even deeper. I fall over the edge of orgasm without a thought, and it feels like an escape, my body hitting a limit on sensation and unable to do anything but spend the tension at once. Campbell groans against the curve of my neck as I clench tight around them, arms locked around their shoulders to keep even a fraction of distance from opening between us.

When their fingers find my clit, hips grinding down into another thrust, I moan until my voice breaks from the sound. Their release is seconds later, near-silent save for the sound Campbell muffles into a deep, consuming kiss. I’m hanging on the edge again, raking my nails down their back like I can write what I need into Campbell’s skin, but by some mercy, they don’t stop, fucking me past the point of no return. I lose all sense of my body except the staggered need for breath, bliss obliterating everything else.

Time is fluid. I’m not sure how long I’m under before finally coming back to myself, but Campbell is slipping the blindfold off, careful not to pull my hair. “Close your eyes, Justine. The light will be stronger than you think.”

I do, but a stunning flash of red still tries to bore through my eyelids when the velvet slips away. My hiss of protest becomes a startled gasp when Campbell pulls out of me, agonizingly slow. “Fuck.”

“Are you sore?” they ask, lying down the length of the couch and cradling me in their arms. Campbell’s weight on top of me is always welcome but also overly distracting.

“No. Just…” After a few cautious blinks, I dare to open my eyes. To have Campbell right there, watching me with unfettered devotion, aligns the world as it should be. “‘Spent’ is probably the better word.”

Their smile is a wolfish flash of teeth, but it fades to a moue of concern as they draw a finger over my temple. “And up here?”

“Better.” I cycle through a few deep breaths, letting my mind settle. “Court went fine, and everything with Sofia worked out. I’m…still nervous about the trip though. It’s been ten years, Campbell.”

A decade of lying to my parents about what Richard was doing to me, coming up with excuses as to why I was missing yet another holiday, abandoning every responsibility to the people who raised me with love and care. He made me complicit, which stings more than anything else. I couldn’t even tell my mother the truth at the funeral, too afraid of letting the mask of grief drop even for a second.

Campbell presses a soft kiss against my brow. “And you’re sure you want to go?”

“I have to.” The answer bursts out of me, sharp as shrapnel. “I want them to meet you. And I owe them so much. God knows what they’ve been having to tell everyone in New York about their wayward daughter.”

I think that’s what scares me the most. My parents could have written me off years ago as a disloyal embarrassment, but they didn’t. But what will they see in me now, storming into their lives with someone like Campbell on my arm? Will they know that I’m lying? Will they care? I’m not sure which option is worse.

“Whatever you need,” Campbell says softly. “Anything, Justine. Say the word, and it’s yours.”

I know they’re telling the truth, which is exactly why I have to do this. Living split in two, holding the halves of my life at a distance, isn’t possible anymore. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” they whisper. “But deal with tomorrow when it comes. Right now, you can forget. You’re safe.”

Turning in against Campbell’s chest, I close my eyes again. The abyss welcomes me with open arms.