Her breath catches, and I gently kiss the corner of her lips. “Beautiful.”
“Ryat.” She moans.
“Yeah, Blake. It’s me,” I tell her, and she whimpers. Even drugged and only half-conscious, she knows I’m the one touching her.
I begin to finger-fuck her roughly while my thumb plays with her clit. Her body rocks back and forth, making her tits bounce and the bed squeak. She lets out a cry when her pussy clamps down, and she comes all over my fingers.
Something about having her like this—having total control over her body—is very powerful. Knowing she willingly took something I gave her without any knowledge of what it was. She’s craving to be owned, to be dominated, to be mine!
I stop, and her eyes remain closed. Bringing my fingers to her mouth, I rub them over her parted lips, smearing her cum across them like icing. “Soon, little one,” I tell her before I stick them in my own mouth, licking them clean. Tasting that fucking honey that I’ve been craving after she gave herself to me in my bedroom.
Pushing off the bed, I move to a sitting position between her shaking legs. I reach down and grab the collar of the oversized shirt and rip it down the middle. “I’ll burn this,” I say to myself, pulling her arms out of it, knowing that I’m one step closer to owning her and erasing any trace of Matt.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out the card and lay it on her nightstand. Now I wait.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BLAKELY
CHOSEN ONE
I READ OVER the white card in my hand that was left on my nightstand Monday night after he visited me.
Lifting my eyes to the cathedral, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to nibble on it nervously. It’s what one would think of—large and medieval-looking with the high walls and spiers on the top. It sits in the middle of nowhere off the two-lane road. It reminds me of something you’d see in a scary movie where some kids come to a haunted building to explore. Only they all end up dead in various rooms due to blunt force trauma, and the villain smears their blood along the walls.
Okay, maybe I’ve watched too many scary movies lately.
An old white cross sits above the main entrance. You can see where it once was upright due to the discoloration, but at some point, it has fallen. The wind rocks it slightly back and forth, making a creaking sound just adding to the ick factor. It could not be scarier if it was made for a movie set.
It’s cold out tonight. My body shakes, and my teeth chatter while I stand in a low-cut black mini dress that barely covers my ass and red Gucci heels. I have all my weight on the balls of my feet. Otherwise, they’d sink into the soft ground.
I did my makeup heavy with smokey eyes, thick eyeliner, and red lipstick. I probably look like a cheap hooker walking the streets to find a John. But I won’t be getting paid for what I’m about to do. No. I’m going to freely give it away. Hand it over to a man who I know will use it. Abuse it.
Looking back down at the card, I flip it over to see The Ritual Vow Ceremony typed out along with the address that I had to google. It was exactly thirty minutes from campus, tucked back in the middle of nowhere. Below that, it reads—once the chosen accepts her duty, she is bound to serve him.
I’m getting to be part of a “ritual” of the Lords. I know it seems as creepy as it sounds, but I need something new in my life. It’s been missing something for as long as I can remember. And Ryat made me realize what that is.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to do something for yourself?”
His question in the library made me think. From a young age, I’ve had dreams of what I wanted for a future, but my parents have shot them down one by one. I wanted to go to Stanford, but that wasn’t an option.
“Barrington is where you’ll go.” My mother told me that when I was twelve. No argument.
I like Barrington, don’t get me wrong, but it just wasn’t my first choice. I wanted to be normal for once. I went to a private school all my life, so Barrington feels no different. It’s secluded in the middle of Pennsylvania. It’s for rich kids—the elite. The ones with criminal records a mile long that daddies have paid off and judges have brushed under the rug. What could possibly go wrong when you put them all in one place? They are the men and women born and bred to take over their family’s business one day. The degrees are formalities. You need the accolades on paper even though they’re just handed that billion-dollar empire once they graduate.
I guess that’s another factor that led me here to the middle of nowhere at this cathedral—bored out of my fucking mind. Every day of my entire life has been planned out for me. The sports I was allowed to play, the grades I had to make. The man I’ll marry.