All Chapters of Maybe Wrong, Maybe Right: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Troy “Your fiancée?” Quinn asked when Caroline left. “Is that what I am?” “Hm,” I grunted. “That is what humans call it, right?” “I guess, but…I don’t remember you asking me to marry you.” I smiled at her and ran my eyes over her calm face. I expected her to break down, but so far she handled everything remarkably well. Better than I thought she would. “To us, the day we mark our mate is our wedding day, and our union our marriage. We do make it legal in the human world too. Do you want to do that?’ “Yes,” she said, her voice filled with venom, “and invite Caroline to the wedding.” I laughed, turned her around and steered her in the direction of the bathroom. “Do you need any help?” “You know, I once washed my hair with rainwater I collected in a bucket.” I winced at how matter-of-fact her voice was when she told me. “I think I can manage a shower.” I lifted her luscious new locks off her shoulders, and ran my fingers through the silky strands. The haircut and manicure was Seba

Troy The tyres screeched as Tony braked to take the sharp turn that led to my entrance. I almost tumbled off the seat, and somewhere behind me Quinn let out a soft groan as the momentum jostled her around like a milkshake. I kept firing until we were inside my driveway where the guards slammed the gates shut and lined up along the high walls, firing on our pursuers from above. It wasn’t just Lawson that came after me. He didn't have the manpower or the intelligence to orchestrate such an attack. Cantrell had a bigger, more organised crew, and I was ninety percent sure that the two of them put their war on hold to combine their forces in an attempt to get rid of me. Neither of them were a real threat but it was annoying, and unlike the last time we went to war, I had Quinn to worry about. Tony pulled up to the front door and I ordered Quinn to get out of the car on the mansion’s side. She obeyed without any hesitation, quickly bouncing up the steps and running inside. I dropped th

Quinn Troy hopped off the windowsill and stretched, giving me a breathtaking view of his muscular frame. It was the first time that he didn’t appear to be in full control of himself, and while he’d shown me a softer side, I’d never seen him vulnerable, yet that was the only word that tumbled through my head as I stared into his sad, honey eyes. “You should go now,” he said. “No. Why?” I asked, knowing full well that my bold refusal to follow his orders could end in tears, although it hadn’t so far, and his threats scared me less and less with each passing day. At first, it didn’t look as if he’d answer me, but then he said, “I’m battling to control my wolf.” “Will he hurt me?” “Not on purpose, no, but you are human and he doesn’t know how to be gentle.” I didn’t want to leave. Some new part of me, a part I didn’t even know existed, wanted to stay with Troy, wanted to see how far I could push him. I had no idea what I wanted to do with him once he reached that breaking point, or h

TroyThis wasn’t usually how I did things. I always planned any scenario with my partners, going into minute detail with them, making sure we both knew each other’s limits, boundaries, and safe words. I made extra sure that I was in control of myself and that there wasn't even the slightest chance that I'd fuck up and give away parts of myself no one was supposed to know.And I never did it with someone who was as inexperienced as Quinn was, which terrified and filled me with exhilaration at the same time.I had never just pulled a girl over my lap and spanked her, yet that was what I did with Quinn. It was partly irritation that drove me to it, but mostly it was my own fucked up desire to hear her call out my name as I felt the sting against my palm when my hand connected with the supple flesh of her delectable little butt.It was too late to take it back. I had told her I was going to do it, and I had to follow through. It was who I was. Always in charge and always in control. I was

Quinn I stood with my back to the mirror, trying to look over my shoulder at the bruises Troy left on my skin last night. I thought it would be worse, but there was only one visible bluish bruise in the crease where my butt and back leg met. I traced a finger over it, shuddering when I remembered what happened yesterday. I burned with a kind of uncomfortable embarrassment and mix of pride when I replayed the previous night through my head. Not once did I feel small or degraded - the opposite happened. Watching the helpless way Troy lost control of himself when he came at the mere sound of my voice gave me a sense of power I never knew I possessed. I never liked pain. What kind of moron did? I always associated being beaten, or in this case spanked, with something negative. In my mind, it was a punishment, a tool of humiliation, and my mother always beat me out of anger or to correct some kind of behaviour she found unacceptable. Troy wasn't angry at me, nor did he try to humiliate