He releases my hip, his gloved hand slipping between my legs, his body curling over my backside as his leather finger slides between my folds. It feels erotic, the sensation of the smooth leather brushing against my wet clit. My eyes roll in the back of my head, and I swallow over my suddenly dry tongue, chasing away the orgasm, terrified for it to obliterate me, but I don’t care at this point. I need it.
He grips his knife, dragging it across the inside of my thighs. A burn shoots through me, and it only heightens my euphoria. His fingers grip my sliced thigh, and I can’t help the moan that breaks from my throat as he squeezes.
“Your blood is my favorite to spill. I want to drown in you, Lakyn,” he grunts.
My orgasm comes violently at his declaration, tearing through me like a vicious storm. The masked man’s hand instantly curls under my abdomen, holding me up as his thrusts speed up, pounding into me wildly, his tempo breaking as he turns into a madman.
It sparks my orgasm into newer heights, and I gasp, tears flinging to my eyes as my breath chokes me in a silent scream.
The walls of my pussy clamp around him, keeping him hostage inside of me as I ride my high. His thrusts slow down, and he holds himself above me for a moment before slipping out, releasing the panties from my mouth as he pulls away from me.
I instantly fall to my side, turning around to face him, shuffling away from him until my back hits the wall.
Holy shit. What did I just do?
He’s slow as he moves to a stand, pulling the condom off his cock, tying it with quick movement and slipping it into his pocket. He then takes my panties, and my eyes widen as he slips them into his other pocket.
He’s stealing my panties.
Pointing his knife at me, he walks up to me until the toe of his boot brushes up against my naked knee.
“Keep those pretty little lips closed and don’t say a word,” he says quietly, his knife gliding up my bare leg. Goosebumps pop in its wake, and I swallow down, my throat dry, as I give him a nod.
With that, he turns, slipping out of my room, as if he’s the secret boyfriend I’m hiding from my parents.
But he’s not my secret boyfriend.
He’s a monster.
I shoot up in bed, glancing around and taking stock of my room.
Holy shit, I’m alive.
I lift my sheets, looking down at my shorts, knowing that it couldn’t have been a dream.Right?
Was I dreaming?
My thighs clench, and I can feel the ache I haven’t felt in over a year, giving away the truth that yes, I let some stranger, a masked murderer, fuck me into oblivion.
It was also the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.
My head rolls sideways, and I burrow my face into my pillow, letting out a groan.
What have I done?
My fingers grip my pillow, and I squeeze it until my knuckles crack, wondering what the hell I’m going to do now.
I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve killed him.
Yet I remember how my body felt, alive for the first time in years. I don’t remember ever feeling like that, like I’m both drowning and flying. Like I’m made of glass yet impenetrable.
I never wanted it to end, yet I couldn’t get away from this secret monster fast enough.
I let out a groan, peeling the sheets off my legs and swinging them over the side of the bed. Standing up, I stretch as a groan tears from my throat. My body is the best type of sore, my mouth raw from my panties scraping against the corners.
My bare feet pad across the carpet, and I stare at the spot he had me last night, taking me without abandon, as if I was his to claim since the moment he first saw me.
My fingers wrap around my doorknob, and I pull it open, the old Victorian door creaking on its hinges. I slip into the hall and head downstairs, hearing the voices of Posie and Vienna in the kitchen. My fingers wrap around the banister, my bare feet slapping against the wooden floor as the scent of fresh coffee enters my nose.