His hand leaves my chin, and trails down my body with excruciating slowness. When he reaches my breast, he pinches my nipples hard.
I gasp as a traitorous moan slips free. He mocks me with his cocky grin.
His fingers dip beneath the waistband of his boxers I’m wearing. I already know what he’ll find.
When his fingers stroke between my folds, he hums in satisfaction. He circles my clit teasingly, until my hips shift forward chasing the pleasure.
Then he pulls away.
I whimper at the loss, but I don’t have time to dwell on it, because he shows me his fingers.
His fingers that are glistening with my arousal.
He smirks. “Hmm. Seems I was right. Now, open up.”
He drags his coated finger over my lips, pressing on them until I obey and they part.
Even when fuming at him, you still listen, like a good little girl.
I take his fingers in my mouth and suck them clean. Tasting myself on them.
Victory flares in his eyes. He pulls his fingers free with a softpop, then murmurs, “My good, little slut. Always ready for me. Obeying my every word. You submit so beautifully. Without a fight.”
He’s mocking me.
He’s wrong.
He’s not wrong. Just because you rebel, doesn’t mean you disobey.
Fury ignites in my veins, hot and blinding. Before I can second-guess it, I do the only thing I can think of.
I spit in his face.
Matty stills. For one charged second, everything stops. Then, slowly, dangerously, his lips curl into a wicked grin.
He slowly wipes my spit from his cheek with the same fingers that were in my mouth moments ago. And then, he smears the saliva back over my lips.
I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Such a bad girl,” he murmurs, eyes glistening with delight “That just added to your punishment. And it was already going to be hell for leaving me.”
His cock is still hard against me. He’s excited. He grinds against me, reinforcing the truth of his words.
“Now, tell me what made you run. Yesterday morning, you were excited for our date. By midday, you were gone. Why?” He almost sounds hurt, but that can’t be right.
I exhale sharply. “I saw Roman walk in. I knew who he was when you called him by name. He was the man you were talking to that day in the alley. He’s the psychopath.He’s the reason you took me. And here he is, in your house, covered in blood, and you don’t even flinch. Then I heard you talk. I heard you agree to step up and start killing people.” I swallow hard, my voice raw. “It made me sick. I let a monster touch me. I knew what you were, and I let myself forget it. I won’t do it again.”
Matty hums. “Hmm. I thought I intercepted Roman before you saw him. I guess I was wrong.”
I stare at him, stunned. “You’re not even going to deny it?”
“No,” he says simply. “I won’t insult you by lying. Everything you heard was true. The men in the alley were notthe first I’d killed. They won’t be the last. I’ve already killed again since saving you. I burned alive the man who held you down. And I basked in his screams. I didn’t look away. I relished every moment. It brought me pleasure to make him suffer for touching you.”
His voice is pure evil, and I see the truth of what he’s saying in his eyes. He takes delight in the memories of what he did.
I feel nauseous at the confession. At his glee. At the idea of murdering someone so brutally. And enjoying it.
I don’t know this man. This sick bastard.
