Unlike Eileen, whose cheeks burned with shame, Silas pressed a kiss to her slender ankle—a silent forewarning of the shackle he intended to bind her with.
“Or maybe I should install a keypad on the bedroom door? One that only opens with my fingerprint.”
He offered the clarification with a dry chuckle, making sure she knew the lock would be installed on the inside, not the outside.
“Or perhaps a GPS chip under your skin… I thought I was safe leaving you without clothes or shoes, yet you still tried to run.”
Silas unbuttoned his pants, drawing out his erection and rubbing it against her bare apex. He was fully aroused, his shaft swollen and rock-hard.
Yet he only teased her, withholding entry. Instinctively, Eileen tilted her hips, desperate for him to sink inside, but Silas held his shaft firmly in his hand and refused to yield.
“Hah… H-honey…”
“You don't get to enjoy your punishment.”
“But still…”
“No. You come the second I go inside you.”
He forced himself to rein in his lust. Simply taking her wouldn't satisfy the dark anger gnawing at him. In fact, Silas wondered briefly if he was the one being punished.
Still, watching his wife writhe and plead beneath him brought a intoxicating surge of satisfaction. Then the thought returned—the maddening possibility that another bastard might have seen her like this—and his fury flared anew.
“You promised you’d stay by my side forever. Was that a lie? I despise liars.”
“N-no! It wasn’t!”
“How can I possibly believe you?”
Should I just kill her?
If he ended her life right now, this version of her would belong to him for eternity. He would never again be tormented by the thought of another man laying eyes on her, nor would his blood boil at the idea of someone catching her so completely defenseless.
He would never have to look at her again.
Yet, strangely, the impulse to kill her faltered. It made no sense; he had brought her here with the sole intention of taking her life.
Why hesistate? Was it because she revealed a slightly different side of herself each day, sparking a morbid curiosity about what she would show him next? Or was it simply that he couldn't bear to forfeit the visceral pleasure she gave him?
Or was there something else? Whenever he was with her, an indescribable emotion took root—something deeply unfamiliar. The fact that he felt this foul, alien sensation yet still craved her presence left him thoroughly unnerved.
“…”
Eileen, too, fell silent, caught off guard by her own visceral denial when Silas asked if her promise was a lie.
Silas was still a lethal threat; she knew his true nature all too well. She had only managed to play The Devil’s House up to the midpoint, yet she had died by his hands hundreds of times in the game.
And yet, that wasn't the whole truth. The comforting heat of his body as he held her through the night, the quiet focus he displayed while cooking, the faint curve of his lips when she enjoyed a meal he prepared, his dry humor, the burning intensity in his eyes when he wanted her—all of those moments were real, too.
And… Silas definitely isn't the murderer behind the Central Park killing last month.
It was a baffling contradiction. Silas Blackwood was supposed to be the central antagonist of The Devil’s House.
Yet she was certain he hadn't committed that murder. The game didn't feature multiple killers—that would muddy the investigation and artificially inflate the difficulty.
It was an unwritten rule of horror games. More importantly, she was his ironclad alibi, having been at his side the entire time. Even if the police wouldn't believe her, she knew the truth.
Is there a hidden mechanism to this game that I don't know about?
Without a word, Eileen wrapped her arms around Silas.
Silas’s eyes widened. His wife—who usually trembled in his presence—was initiating an embrace, almost as if she knew he had just been contemplating her murder.
For one of the rare times in his life, his mind went completely blank. He quietly rested his face against her shoulder. The chaos in his chest gradually settled, anchored by the simple warmth of her body.
“…”
After a long silence, Eileen cupped Silas’s cheeks in her hands. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. Mimicking his usual rhythm, she parted her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth.
It was an unpracticed kiss, though a clear improvement from before. Normally, Silas would have sneered—“You’re terrible at this”—but the words never came.
“…Ugh!”
Silas let out a low, strained groan, his brows drawing tight. His entire frame went rigid with tension, his fingers digging fiercely into the sheets beneath them. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, taking heavy, ragged breaths.
“Honey?”
Was he in pain again?
Before she could ask, a warm liquid spilled across her stomach.
Flustered, Eileen blinked. No… it couldn't be. Surely he hadn't—not before he had even entered her. Since Silas was still flesh and blood, perhaps it was just a physical spasm. It had to be.
“……Why?”
When Silas lifted his head, a dark flush covered his face. At the sight, Eileen couldn't suppress a quiet laugh.
How did you manage to come just from that?! Especially considering the amount, despite everything they had done that morning.
“You really, really like me, don't you?”
“…I suppose I do.”
Silas yielded with a subtle nod, thoroughly snared in her subtle grip. Eileen herself felt just as unsettled, unable to fully decipher her feelings toward him.
He was a cold, psychopathic murderer, yet the man sitting before her was far more complex than the monster in the game. Because of that, she clung to the fragile hope that he might not be a killer after all.
“Haaah—!”
A sharp gasp tore from Eileen’s lips as he plunged into her without warning. Before her mind could process the sudden invasion, Silas sank his full length into her core.
“Your punishment is over.”
Her hips arched violently under the force of his drive, the friction tearing through her sensitivity. She clutched the bedding, unable to catch her breath. Having spent the last hour hovering on the edge of release, the sudden thrust sent a blinding wave of pleasure through her.
“Hah…! Ah… Ahh!”
His rhythm turned harsh and unrelenting. Every time the wide head of his shaft scraped against her walls and ground against her cervix, a sharp, breathless cry escaped her.
Yet Silas was far from satisfied. Driven by an urgent need to sink deeper, he slammed into her with brutal force, the sound of skin striking skin echoing through the room.
The suffocating tightness of her body wrapping around him eclipsed the harshness of the impact.
Even as Eileen’s body trembled and clamped down around him, Silas continued to drive himself into her deep. She squeezed him so tightly it felt as though she might snap his shaft, riding wave after wave of violent climaxes, yet his pace never wavered.
It was a stark contrast to the man who had undone himself moments ago from a single kiss.
To reach even deeper, he flipped her over onto her stomach, forcing her knees up and her hips high into the air before thrusting back in.
“Haaa…”
Silas let out a long, satisfied exhale, pinning Eileen’s head down against the mattress. The position forced her passage to contract even tighter around him.
A dark, brilliant smile spread across Silas’s face as he buried his aching, swollen length to the hilt, over and over, heedless of the slick heat pouring from her body.
“Honey, coming again after just a few thrusts?”
“Nnh… mmph…”
Her muffled groans against the bed sheets only sent more blood rushing to his shaft. She may have started this marriage as a liar, but physically, she was his perfect counterpart.
The way she grew even wetter when he asserted complete control, the implicit surrender in her eyes when he threatened her with shackles…
A cruel laughter bubbled in his throat, but he kept it contained. Still, his fevered eyes and the wide, unhinged smile stretching across his face betrayed his madness.
It hardly mattered. Gasping for air with her face pressed into the mattress, his wife couldn't see him anyway.
So Silas continued to ruthlessly claim her, driving his thick length deep into her body as Eileen was shattered by climax after continuous climax.
Every ragged breath she drew, every frantic beat of her heart was tied entirely to him. Overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensation, she surrendered to the tide—the prolonged denial making the pleasure feel overwhelmingly sweet.
He worked her so mercilessly she felt her thoughts dissolving into static. After soaking the sheets beneath her through repeated releases, her strength finally gave out entirely.
Silas didn't release her. Instead, he collapsed forward, pressing his weight over her delicate frame.
“Nnh, ah! Ah…! Hah!”
Even as her mind went blank, her body reacted to his weight, shuddering through yet another climax. Silas leaned down, his voice a dark, possessive whisper against her ear:
“You’re never leaving me.”
Because no one else will ever satisfy you like I do.