The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

Skylenna

We eat together, reminiscing over memories of when we first met. DaiSzek sits next to us, chewing on a bone and enjoying our banter.

“What about when you poisoned the staff at the dining party?” I ask with a smirk.

“Easy. I didn’t have to open the champagne bottles at all. I just lined the bottom of each glass with the poison.”

“That doesn’t explain the photos of their families.” I make a cringing face. “How’d you really get them?”

Dessin gives DaiSzek another bone. “Exactly how you think. Before I admitted myself to the asylum, I wanted leverage. I watched them and their families, learning as much as I could.”

“Why?”

“I was succumbing myself to years of torture and cruelty. But the most dangerous and most feared man in the room is always the wisest. I knew I could manipulate the staff by using their own secrets against them.”

Kind of the way I did when I dove into their memories.

“And you really never learned anything about Judas?”

He shakes his head. “No. He never left the asylum.”

I never got a chance to dig into his past either. He never came around while I was in the asylum. Something occurs to me, and I flash my eyes back to Dessin, who is studying me.

“Sern is free.”

He raises a brow.

“I let her out,” I add.

“Before you set the fire?”

“Yes.”

He watches me. Not in the way he usually does, with hidden amusement or subtle intrigue. No, it’s in the lifting of his strong chin, the patient warmth in his gaze, the straightening of his shoulders. He’s ready to listen, to open this space for quiet. To show me that there isn’t judgment or scorn here.

“I kind of—blew the place up,” I admit.

“I’m aware.”

“I went back to the day Scarlett died. I saw Kane carry me out of the burning house. I saw the way his back caught fire. And…” I lean back on my hands, staring into the small fire that cooked our food. “I lost it.”

Dessin doesn’t ask how I went back. I’m sure he can draw an accurate conclusion.

“I went back into the asylum as a way to feel closer to you. But when I got there, and I suffered, and I heard you in pain from the many times they tortured you—All I really wanted was to exact every threat you made, fulfill every promise of revenge.”

He shifts in his seat but doesn’t reveal what he’s feeling or how he’s taking this.

I wish I could show him what I did. Paint him a picture. Conjure the memory, and—I freeze. Could I do something like that? What limitations does my mind have?

“What is it?” Dessin asks.

A feeling of confidence zings through my body. So, I trust it.

“It would be easier to show you what happened.”

His brows knit together as he watches me lean in, sliding my hands along his temples. I can feel the hollowness of the voice waiting for me, like a buzzing under my skin. Dessin’s eyes widen, and I wonder if he can feel it too.

“Stay still,” I whisper.

The moment that wave dumps over me, there’s a mental click as I latch on to Dessin’s mind; it’s quick, like throwing a fishing hook inside his thoughts. His entire body tenses as gravity pummels over us, sending our stiff frames into the void, into the stagnate nothingness, until we’re right where I want to be.

Emerald Lake Asylum.

Bodies of the orderlies swing back and forth in a terrifying display of asphyxiating human puppets.

I grip Dessin’s hand to steady us, looking up at his towering height, waiting for him to freak out.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his mouth parts and his darkened eyes travel the length of the hallway, absorbing the scene, processing what I did to those orderlies.

“You are incredible,” he exhales.

Right on cue, the unhinged version of me drags Belinda by her hair to the hydrotherapy room. Blood pours over the checkerboard tile.

I don’t explain to him what was going on in my head when this all happened. We just watch in utter silence. It isn’t until Meridei’s arm is ripped off her body, until a blood-splattered Skylenna hooks her up to the simulated drowning, that Dessin shows the slightest emotion.

It’s the moment Skylenna screams, “I have lost everything!” that Dessin shakes his head, backing away from the scene, wanting to leave and not come back.

“Do you want to go?” I turn back to him, trying to understand the flare of anger in his expression.

He stares at her a moment longer, eyes trailing down to her trembling hands, her bloodshot eyes, her white gown soaked in blood.

“Yes.” He nods tightly.

He doesn’t have time to even blink before we are back in the meadow, sitting among the gentle fall breeze and the calming scent of lavender.

I let go of his face, giving him as much space as he needs.

Dessin paces like a restless tiger measuring the parameters of its cage. After fifteen seconds of this, he lunges for me, trapping me under his weight, pinning my arms to the ground. His stare is wicked and enraged. Chest moving rapidly against mine.

“Tell me what’s going through your mind,” I command.

“Guilt.” He lets out in a hot breath. “And remorse from Kane. He feels awful after seeing you like that. But also—”

He doesn’t finish that sentence.

“What?”

“I’ve never been more turned on in my entire life. You are an avenging goodness. My wrathful warrior.” And with one slow movement, he thrusts his erection against my thigh. My head falls back, and I sigh, succumbing to the rush of heat and wetness flooding between my legs.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget the days you had to live without me. I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name.” He presses his hips into me again, dragging his heavy cock across my skin until I burn and tingle and go up in flames at his touch.

“Or should I just grind against your soft thigh until I come?”

I shake my head, gasping. Although, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ll take him any way he wants to give it to me. If that means letting him hump me dryly until he explodes, I’ll accept with a watering mouth.

“No?” He continues his thrusts. I rub my knees together to try and relieve my throbbing clit. “You want me to fill you up?”

Something like the word yes bursts from my throat.

He grips my hips and jolts my body to the right, flipping me until I’m facing the grass.

“Arch for me, baby.”

I do as he says without a second thought—a little too eagerly, some might say. He lifts my archer’s dress, revealing my pussy to the warm sun and fresh air. And I’m given no warning as he pushes a finger inside me way too smoothly. I’m slick and so wet his finger makes a slurping sound as he pulls it in and out.

“Oh…. Oh!”

“You’re quivering… actually quivering around my finger.” He snatches a fistful of my hair, yanking me back until his full lips are brushing my ear. “It’s too bad I’m not going to fuck you there.”

I try to look back at him, but he grips my hair tighter, burning my scalp and releasing a rush of pleasure skittering down my spine. At the same time his finger pumps inside me, the pad of a thumb presses against my other hole. I suck in a surprised breath.

“You’re going to have to relax for me. It’s going to take some work to push myself inside of you.” He bites my ear, and I can hear the impatience in his voice. He wants to do it now. But he’s fighting that relentless pull to be buried deep inside of me.

I try, but it’s damn near impossible. I’m tense all over. Even my toes are curled up, unwilling to loosen their grip.

Dessin swipes a hand across my wetness, drawing it back to the tight rosebud of my ass, rubbing small circles around it. He spreads my arousal evenly, making me arch at his touch, suddenly wanton and frenzied for something—anything—to fill me up.

But his motions slow, becoming lazy and idle—his breathing even loses its fast pace. And he stills. Not even an intake of breath.

My eyes go wide as I look around the trees. He either thinks someone is here, a possible threat lurking in the shadows or—

“Aren’t you pretty when you’re offering yourself to me like this?”

My head perks up at the sensual accent. The smooth curve of his words. The sultry ease of his tone.

“Greystone?”

A low, satisfied hum leaves his throat.

I try to sit up, but Greystone’s hands keep me still.

“He would have been too rough with you.” Serious. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him with this humorless tone. This deep ring of concern. He traces a finger down my spine.

“But I, on the other hand, am a very patient man,” he drawls, flicking my clit and pressing on my tight hole at the same time. I lean into him, springing back to life with that ache building between my legs. I squirm and grind the air to try and alleviate it.

He laughs darkly, massaging my closed entrance until I’m a writhing animal, pressing myself into his groin. He takes his hand away from my clit to steady me by my hip, angling me to arch higher for him.

But the throb grows in my clit, and I reach my hand down to touch it, to take away the maddening urge to pull down his pants and spear myself with his cock.

“Don’t touch yourself, sweetheart,” he says, an amused smile coloring his voice. “I want you needy for me when I decide it’s time to open you up.”

I groan in protest. But it’s short lived. Greystone sucks the air from my lungs as he bends down, licking my ass slowly. An intimate swipe of his tongue. I gasp at the jolt of electricity shooting up my back and vibrating down my thighs.

I’m boneless as he continues to devour that part of me, his tongue fluid and intentional. And I sound like I’m dying. Actually experiencing a slow, blissful death. After he’s done, a finger coaxes its way inside of me, slipping into the wet entrance that has loosened drastically due to his mouth.

“Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for, but this pounding sensation in my lower half is paralyzing. I need him.

He breathes as another finger works its way in, and I drop my head at the unexpected tightness.

“Please what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His fingers pause.

“Please… give me your cock.”

Greystone takes my clit between two fingers, playing with it teasingly.

I blow out a frustrated breath, hunger spearing through my core. Insatiable. Delicious. But also unnerving because I’m so buzzed on this high, so blind with craving that I would quite literally do anything to please him in hopes that he will take care of these ravenous compulsions.

“That depends. Are you going to be a good girl for me?” His hardness thrusts against my apex, thick and long.

I whimper in response.

“Is that a yes? Be a good little girl and use your words.”

“Yes!” The word half explodes out of my mouth.

Greystone strokes the side of my face delicately like he’s rewarding a pet for good behavior. A starved, desperate feeling washes over me. A frantic need to feel more of his touch. I lean into his caress, pushing the side of my face into his calloused hand like a very good, very deserving pet.

“Hmm,” he coos, caressing my hair as I pant and nuzzle in as close as I can. “What a good girl you are.”

I nod, suddenly overtaken by the insidious yearning to earn his approval, to make him satisfied with my eager obedience.

“Will you do whatever I say?” His fingers twist inside of me. I bow my head, nodding and huffing like a wild beast ready to be tamed. “Let’s start with the head of my cock. If you’re still behaving, I’ll think about giving you more. Do you understand?”

I make a movement with my head. Not a nod, but a bobbing motion followed by an impatient whine.

Greystone lowers to his knees in front of me, leveling his standing cock with my chin. “Open,” he says, guiding my mouth to split apart with the pad of his thumb. “You’re going to get my head nice and wet.”

I do as he says with excitement buzzing through my body, making my muscles quiver with anticipation. The tip of his dick slides over my bottom lip but doesn’t go any farther. He’s teasing me. Tempting me with only a piece of him to build my desperation.

I do all I can with what I’m given. My tongue rolls over the bead of his precum, lathering it over his soft skin. I lick and lap like it’s the last bit of water I’ll ever have. He hisses, then pets the top of my head lovingly.

“Very good,” he whispers, using his index finger to play with my tongue as I glide it relentlessly over his tip. “I’ll give you a little more. I want you to suck on it loudly. I want to hear you slurp. Show me how badly you want it all.”

“Yes.” I open my mouth wider.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer immediately.

Greystone looks down at me with the eyes of a predator. Dominating. All-powerful.

“I think you’re going to be my little pet from now on. Is that what you want?” He pushes his cock another inch into my mouth, and I obey his earlier command without question. Suckling the tip, slurping, lapping it up until it’s a wet mess.

“I said, is that what you want?”

I try to pull my mouth away to answer, but a large hand rests on the back of my head, holding it in place. I answer against his tip, the words “yes, sir” coming out garbled and incoherent.

Greystone groans. “You sound so sexy with your mouth full.”

I hum at his compliment, and he pushes himself the rest of the way until he reaches the back of my throat. I make a choking sound, making him pulse in my mouth.

“Choke again for me. I want you to drool all over my cock, sweetheart. It needs to be nice and wet before I bend you over again.”

His deep voice zings straight down to my clit, lighting every nerve in my body on fire, sensitive to the touch. I can’t ever remember a moment in my life where I was this frisky, this crazed over being touched.

I let him hit the back of my throat again, this time harder, and I retch, my mouth filling with saliva. Greystone pulls that heavy erection out slowly, letting it fall from my lips in strings of drool.

“Am I… doing good?” I look up at him with dazed eyes and swollen lips.

Even with his measured stare, full of control and dominance, his hands flex, fingers curling, and it’s the only sign that he wants to have me as much as I want him.

“Yes.”

He moves behind me, pushing his sex against the tight rim behind my pussy. It puts pressure there, hard, unforgiving prodding until I open for him, just a little.

“Hmm, is this what you wanted, my little pet?” He presses in a little more, and I wiggle to help it along. “Ah ah ah. You only move if I say you can move.”

“Yes, sir.” I hold perfectly still, but my body rages with a built-up orgasm that is begging to be set free.

“I’ll tell you what. If you show me you’re ready to be the perfect little pet for me, I’ll keep going, okay?” He reaches around to my face, running two fingers over my lips. “Suck on my fingers, sweetheart. Show me how good you are. I want you to make a mess and pretend it’s my cock.”

I’ve clearly lost my mind. There are no coherent thoughts left in me, no moments of doubt, no questions to ask. I’m only a machine to obey. A toy for him to play with. My mouth opens, and I take his fingers greedily, letting them go as far back as he wants. And once they tickle the back of my throat, I take them deeper, feeling Greystone push himself an inch into my ass. I moan and choke until his fingers have caused my mouth to flood with saliva.

It’s primal, this animalistic horniness inside of me. It’s bizarre and explosive.

Greystone notices the drool that spills over my lips and down to my breasts. And he pushes another two inches in. I gasp on his fingers, letting him hold my mouth open like a mindless toy.

“There’s a good girl,” he purrs, letting me adjust to his size. The pressure in my clit is so close to bursting, I might go permanently insane. “Does my pet want me to fuck her?”

“Mmmyesss,” I mumble around his fingers.

Kisses are dropped along my spine, another set of fingers play with my clit, and I’m almost there. I whine and reach for him, longing for even the slightest contact.

“How’s this?” he asks, pushing the rest of the way in.

I try to suck in a breath, but no air makes it past my lips. I’m frozen. My body takes several seconds to adjust. Although it’s so tight, so full, I’m not sure I can acclimate to his enormous size.

But Greystone knows exactly how to relax me, make my body soft and mushy. He tells me how good I’m being. He tells me, “You like being fucked like this, isn’t that right?” He degrades me, but even though the words should be offensive, they only succeed in turning me on.

Once he begins pumping in and out of me, his fingers do the same. They leave my clit and slide into my wet depths. In and out.

There is no concept of time. No rational thought. It’s just us and this mind-blowing orgasm hanging over the edge of his grasp.

“Do you think you deserve to come on my fingers, sweetheart?”

My answer is distorted by his other hand. But the answer is yes. Fuck. Yes. But he doesn’t answer, so I start begging, pleading, floundering against his fingers and cock. Dignity? Gone. But Greystone grants my request, and it’s as if my body was clamping around this implosion, waiting for his words to set it free. The hormones scream through my bloodstream. I burst around his fingers, clenching tightly while the climax tumbles over my body.

“I’m going to come in you. Would you like that, pet?”

I can only nod as the last waves of my orgasm curl my toes.

Greystone growls under his breath, finishing with a final thrust. We lie back down on the grass in a quiet regression of heavy breathing, and me grinning to myself.