cost me everything, but the words die on my lips. I can’t verbalize why letting myself go would be the end for me, it just would.

“You’ll what?” he taunts with a stupid half-smile as I grab his lapels, my fingers turning white as I hold on tight. “Hurt someone? Kill me?”

His hands come over mine, and instead of pushing me away, he brings them up to his neck. “Then go ahead, Princess. I’d rather die at yours hands than anyone else in this messed-up town.”

I squeeze, feeling him swallow beneath my touch. “You don’t understand!”

I had an anger that couldn’t be tamed, it was there all the damn time, and being around Tristan made my grip on my temper tenuous. I wanted to kill him half of the time, and the other half...well, that was just hormones.

“Don’t understand?” he says softly as he takes off my mask and throws it to the ground, letting it shatter. “I see you. Every damn day. I see you pushing it down, swallowing the bullshit, pretending not to be angry. You are not a pretty little doll. Not a puppet for that wanker, Randolph. You do not have to be perfect. You are beautifully flawed, and people need to be reminded of that.”

He takes a step back, taking me with him as my hands are still wrapped around his throat. Another step. And another, until he’s sitting back on a chaise longue and I’m leaning over him. His dark eyes never leave mine as he murmurs, “So, show them your monstrous side. Remind them who the fuck you are.”

Seeing him below me, offering himself up like a sacrifice to my fury, has me feeling all kinds of things that I just don’t have the words for. The anger that bubbles away is still there, but it’s simmering, moving between rage and lust, and I realize that’s exactly why he’s been pushing my buttons for weeks. Tristan Radcliffe wants me to come undone.

And I give in.

His hands are on my dress, pushing it up my thighs so that I can straddle him as I take what he’s offering. My lips crash against his, and there’s no kindness or softness there, only need. Only raw emotions, as I keep one hand on his neck and tighten my grip, while the other comes up into his hair, and I yank his head back. Peppering little nibbles and kisses along his jaw, I love feeling his moans as they rise up his throat. His hands slide further up my legs, as I bite down on his bottom lip before sucking away the pain.

I grind against him, feeling his hardness through the material of his pants. His hands cup my ass as I do, pushing me harder against him.

“No panties?” he breathes against my mouth.

“Not with this dress,” I groan as his fingers feel the wetness between my thighs.

“You really are trying to kill me…” He tilts his head back and groans, allowing me to move my tongue over his Adam's apple before gently sucking.

Two fingers slide inside me, making me buck my hips against his hand like I’m losing my mind. His thumb brushes against my clit with every roll of my hips, and I’ve never felt anything like it. His free hand moves up my body, and this time it’s him who grabs me by my hair and demands my mouth once again.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t ask for it,” I say, pulling away with a wicked grin as my orgasm builds. My breasts are held firmly in place by the corset part of the dress, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing anything he can gain access to as I fuck his hand. His mouth moves over my collarbone as I lose control. My fingers dig into anything they can, his hair, his shirt, his shoulders. I have this overwhelming urge to touch him everywhere as if he’s not close enough, I want more. I need more as the feeling inside me grows, building and building until I begin to fall apart.

He doesn’t stop until I’m trembling, my forehead pressed against his as I try to control my breathing. I feel as though I’ve been through a storm in a paddle boat by the time we’re done, but the anger I felt earlier is gone. There's no knot in my stomach, and I feel weirdly calm as he whispers against my skin, “Fuck, Princess.”

“Fuck indeed,” a voice hisses behind us.

Chapter Sixteen

Tristan

Randolph Montgomery stands with his arms crossed, face twisted in anger, and I see where Lena gets her temper from. The man is normally the pinnacle of politeness, smiles, and goes around kissing cute little babies, but here he was, looking like...well, looking like I had my fingers in his daughter.

Lena turns a shade of red I have never seen before and climbs off my lap, smoothing down her dress. “Father…”

“Where the fuck were you?” he spits, his eyes blazing. “You made me look like a fool out there! I told them you were going to play your violin for us, and lo and behold—you vanished.”

He strides up to her and grabs her wrist roughly. Standing, I glare at him, the man makes me fucking sick, but he was her father, and I needed to wait. I needed to see how she would handle herself.

“My violin, the strings…” Lena tries to explain weakly, and I hate how she seems to have shrunk in on herself. It's like Randolph takes up all the space in the room, forcing her to retreat to the shadows.

“I don't care what happened,” he growls, and I clench my fists as the tone of his voice grates on me. “You should have come out and played the piano in that case! You humiliated me!”

It was always about him. Selfish fucker. I wanted to choke him in that moment, how could he not see how Lena gave him everything? Everything.

Lena's hands begin to tremble as she looks up. “But I can't play

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