The need to fight and run pulses through me and I use his loosened hold on my wrists to do so.
He releases me, but the moment I’m crawling away, something tears at my skull.
A tight fist grips my hair and drags me back onto the hard wood. I scream, and it’s heightened by the looming silence.
And yet I don’t stop fighting, flailing, scattering the remaining pieces of my jeans and hoodie.
I’ve never experienced this sort of demented survival mode before. I don’t want to escape, and I already agreed to be his prey by running instead of leaving, so I’m not sure why I’m doing this.
Maybe it’s to draw out the beast inside him, entice him, and turn him into a crazed being.
Jeremy effortlessly pushes me onto my back with his hold on my hair. The breath is knocked out of my lungs when I meet the solid deck.
But it’s not only due to the impact.
I freeze at the shadow hovering over me, chest rising and falling with terrifying calmness. I can make out the bulging of his muscles against the black shirt, the rippling of his ink, and the darkness of his eyes behind the mask.
There’s also the knife in his left hand.
“You look so innocent, but that head of yours is a fucked-up place, Lisichka.Myfucked-up place.” He kneels between my legs and slides the blunt side of the blade against my pussy.
I shudder when he lifts it under the moonlight and I watch, entrapped, as it glistens with my arousal.
My rasping breaths start tumbling out of my mouth the longer he forces me to see the sick evidence of my tendencies. A tinge of shame settles at the bottom of my belly despite myself.
I’m lying here fully naked while he’s entirely dressed. And I don’t miss the inequality of the situation and how much power he holds.
“You’re so wet for my cock, so sensitive and horny. You act like a prude, but you’re nothing but a dirty little slut.”
My ears heat and I try to close my legs, but he digs his fingers in the tender flesh and slaps them apart.
He’s on me then, his fingers pinching my nipples, torturing, squeezing. An onslaught of emotion rushes through me as he touches me everywhere—my breasts, my throat, my stomach, my thighs.
I’m trembling beneath him, a leaf with nowhere to fall.
This is the feeling I’ve always yearned for; the abandon of losing control and allowing someone else to do everything.
To take.
And take.
And Jeremy is definitely the type who takes.
He gives me untold pleasure in return. A raw lash of his fingers and knife so that I become a vessel for his depravity.
I’m nothing more than a doll he molds into his plaything and manhandles any way he wishes, and all I can do is take it.
Or I can say the safe word.
Smoke.
But that would mean this whole thing would end.
As if hearing my thoughts, Jeremy lifts his head from the puffy flesh of my nipples and the air grows silent. He pants from beneath his mask, in sync with my heavy breaths.
It’s a silent communication.
An understanding.