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“I taste so good. Do you want a taste, Asher?” she asked, thrusting a finger back into her pussy, shuddering as she did, and my cock stirred awake like it was shocked back to life.

She looked delirious as if she was hanging between dream and reality. “Here. Have a taste, Asher.”

It was so hard to say no. I wanted to, but… I couldn’t stop. The need was a fervent burn along my skin, and the devil in me whispered for more.

She offered.

“Yes.”

I bent down and sucked her finger with a long curse, swirling my tongue around her slick skin, taking every last drop.

The thirst was so acute it made my whole body ache. More. I wanted it all.

“Want to… put your tongue…” she whispered again, rubbing her clit with a finger. Her heels pressed into the soft silk sheet, and she opened her thighs further.

She was insatiable, and I wanted to satiate my own hunger.

Every cell in my body begged to let go and take. Take everything she was offering, to say yes.

I licked my lips, bending down, until I was closer to her, until I could smell her.

“No. Fuck no.” I could not. I stood back up, heart hammering. I was here to kill her, not eat her out.

I want to eat her out.

“NO.”

And then as if she hadn’t just had a wet dream, she fell back asleep, snoring, content.

My eyes went to the bottles of pills on her side table with a wince. I took a bottle and read the label—sleeping pills prescribed by Doctor Tomlinson.

“Fuck, you're truly mad.” I stumbled out of her cottage, my legs and hands unsteady.

The cold air did nothing to help the heat in my skin.

Beneath the mask of composure and professionalism, Diya Sharma was a maddening puzzle, and I wanted to solve it, solve her.

Or just kill her.

Either would do.

I took a moment to compose myself before heading back toward the asylum. Slipping in through the back door, I made my way to Doctor T’s office.

I’d failed one mission. Maybe I’d succeed in the next. With a sigh, I pulled out the chair and sat down. Logging into the computer, I opened The Gates website to find Tomas Hannigan’s email address.

Switching to a fake email account I’d created years ago, I typed out a business proposal, pitching a new drug entering the market, claiming we could make a hefty profit by selling it to his clients.

Officially, The Gates was just a legal gentlemen’s club—but that wasn’t the whole truth. Hannigan operated secret VIP rooms, offering exclusive drugs and women to his married clientele.

After sending the email, I shut down the computer, locked the office door, and walked to my room.

Sliding under my covers, I closed my eyes and cursed… when I saw Diya, legs opened wide, begging for me.

Tonight was going to be long.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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