Page 12 of Room Seventeen

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Mmm. “The way you say my name,” I husk, barely recognizing this inner vixen coming to the surface.

“Not another foot. Or you will be sorry.”

This one has such dark eyes I can practically see my soul reflect back at me. Bastian’s voice drips with an unspoken dare I can’t resist and do exactly what he warns against. Dark hair falls over a smooth forehead making him look more dangerous.

“Malen’kaya ptichka.” Don’t push us. The result will scare you.”

Little birdie.

Dante’s silver eyes shimmer with wicked intent. “Is that a promise, Russian?” His hair hangs loosely around his shoulders and begs for me to slip my fingers into it as I ride him from above. My pussy clenches and releases at the idea.

Their forbidding warnings drip high-octane fuel directly on the embers of my libido. I’ve known for a long while there’s something wrong with me. There has to be, right? There is nothing a head doctor or bottles of pills can fix. I’ve tried. That doesn’t change the fact that lurking deep inside is something that calls to all the bad in this world and draws it near.

My stepfather. The professor who locked me in his office and tried to get a blow job out of me for a passing grade on my financial project junior year.

These men. An aura of danger follows them everywhere they go and here, alone with them it seems to only grow.

I take a step backward.

The energy in me seems to attract a kind of darkness that has no cure. At least I don’t think so. What I am doing tonight is something I haven’t tried before and that is to meet my twisted side and see what she might like. Maybe I can purge the evil out of me by feeding her. Sister Martha said sometimes I need to walk through the fire to be cured.

They are my fire. My villains. For one night I want to live with my demons and see if I can withstand their judgment when the sun rises.

I take another step in reverse, earning me growls. Large shoulders roll and sway with their synced movements in my direction. Their muscular bodies bulge and flex as they lumber closer. Standing shoulder to shoulder they’ve effectively cut off one exit, leaving me only one direction to run.

Is the door to my left to the bedroom or bathroom? Is there a second floor to this place? The impossibly high windows say there just might be. I chance a quick look over my shoulder. Oh. Now that is something. My hair fans over my shoulder and it catches all three of their gazes.

They’re ready for the hunt. Can I get up the stairs before they catch me?

“Don’t.”

Another step.

“Don’t what, Con?” Wicked intent curls my lips and it lures the hungry beasts in them to the surface. Eyes the color of gold bore into me.

I turn, hit the stairs, and run until the burn in my thighs screams for me to stop. I only push harder and run as fast as my legs will move. Adrenaline pumps into my veins and I go a little faster still.

Three sets of expensive shoes are almost silent on the hardwood, but I hear them as I curve around the spiral staircase and come to a dead stop on the landing.

Three doors. Fuck! Which do I take? There are no labels of any kind. They are all dark wood with crystal doorknobs.

“Malen’kaya ptitsa, where do you think you are flying off to?” One hunter taunts while the other two chuckle darkly. The rich, masculine sound reaches for me and nearly steals my will to escape.

Little birdie.

Breathing harshly, I spring forward just as hands brush through my tumbling hair. My heart pounds and my chest tightens to the point drawing air in actually hurts.

I reach for the first door.

Locked. I dash to the next only to find it locked too.

Their dark chuckles wracked her body from the outside in.

“Leti, malen’kaya ptichka. Letat’.”

Fly, little birdie. Fly.

Five


Tags: Penelope Wylde Erotic