“Why would we stop, baby? This is what you want too. Don’t deny it. You’re all wet for me.”
Either hand dug into each of my thighs, pinning me down. And he started to slide into me.
I yanked his head back as far as my arms would reach, but his weight was on me, his arms keeping me open for him.
“I said fuckingstop.”
He did, but only just. The tip of him was in place. All it would take was a single thrust of his hips, and he’d be sheathed inside me.
His demeanor changed again.
“Sorry, yeah. You’re right. Let’s take it slow. I’m just so excited. You feel so amazing. Just like I always knew you would.”
The head of his dick remained right where it was.
So did my hands, tugging his face away from mine.
I lowered my hold to his shoulders, pushing him to the full length of my arms.
“Get off me.”
A stillness came over him that felt too much like deliberation. Like he was actually considering forcing me against my will.
“Griff, get the fuck off me right this fucking second or I swear to you I’m gonna fucking rip your dick off, even if it’ll make me cry as much as you. There’s something wrong with you.”
Griffin slid his dick inside me the tiniest bit.
“I’ll be fast, I promise.”
“Pull out. Right. Now.”
He slid farther inside me, if only by a slight fraction.
I didn’t give him a chance to thrust fully into me.
I dropped my grip on his shoulders so suddenly that he fell forward and scrambled to move his hands from where they pinned me to the bed to catch himself. He broke his fall only partially, the rest of his weight smacking into my chest, his head crashing into my nose.
But at least his dick pulled out of me.
While he fell, I slid the blade out from under my pillow.
And when he yanked his head back off mine, hissing something that sounded like it was meant to be “You stupid cunt,” and he left his neck exposed—
With a double-fisted grip, as if my hands were clasped for prayer, I slid the knife behind his chin bone.
And I didn’t stop until it sank up to the hilt.
19
A-Hunting We Will Go
My hands shook around my phone as I sent my crew a text message.
Me:Sad Over Something
If only our telepathic connection spanned a greater distance, I wouldn’t have to disguise the true nature of my message:SOS.
My friends would read my message and see it for the distress call it was, while hopefully our lie-rents wouldn’t once they reviewed the logs of our messages.
