Haunting-Adeline

that the vic m deserved it and whatever injuries inflicted upon them were
their own fault.
“She was chea ng on me,” he replies petulantly. Pou ng like a child that
didn’t get a birthday cake.
“Did you cheat on her first?”
“That doesn’t ma er,” he snaps back. “She’s the wife and I make the
money. If I feel like buying a stripper for a night, that’s my goddamn right.
All she ever did was sit at home on her lazy ass and spend my money.”
I nod, accep ng his answer for what it is.
“Would you have hurt Addie?” I ask a er a pregnant pause.
He scoffs. “I would’ve fucked her how I like to fuck. If she ends up with a
couple of bruises, so what? Bitches like that shit. They like it rough.”
Renewed anger punches me in the chest. And it takes all my self-control
not to plunge this screwdriver in his eye right then and there.
Archie wouldn’t know how to have proper rough sex if he was given a
fucking manual for it. He hurts women because he enjoys it. He doesn’t
know how to push women to the edge of pain and pleasure, balancing
between the two and making them desperate for more.
He just hurts them. By the me he’s done, the girl is thoroughly bruised
and trauma zed—maybe even bleeding. And he’s walking away with a
sa sfied smirk on his face, as if he was the first man to prove a woman
orgasming isn’t actually a myth.
“You didn’t hurt Addie,” I observe, wai ng for the answer I know he’ll
give. He isn’t desperate enough yet—scared enough. He’s s ll a emp ng
to put on a false bravado act and die with dignity. But that will change very
soon.
He smirks. “You go a relax them first. The plans I had for her…” he trails
off, licking his lips vulgarly. “Her cries would’ve been such a beau ful song.”
Again, I nod my head in acceptance of the answer. I accept it because it
fuels exactly what I have planned for him.
And I’m very much going to embody his method for sex. I will enjoy
hur ng him and making him bleed, and him? He will wish he had never
met Adeline Reilly.