A wicked amalgam of fear and lust intertwined inside me at the realization that he could grab me at any moment. My thighs burned as I dug into my reserves, pushing to make it.
So close?—
Muscular arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground with ease. He dragged me backward, the exit growing smaller and smaller.
My feet kicked open air. I threw an elbow into his gut this time. In response, he tossed me over his shoulder, his arm an iron band beneath my ass.
I thrashed.
I clawed.
I screamed?—
Something cold, hard, and plastic came between my thighs, spreading me.
The knife handle.
I froze, sucking in a sharp breath. The knife was barely at my entrance. If I struggled, if I even breathed wrong, it would slide inside me.
I went from fighting to get away to fisting his soft, black shirt, trying to stay perfectly still.
An aching silence followed. The hush of my pale breath in the night air. The susurration of skeletal tree branches.
The handle jostled with each steady, confident step he took. Sliding in, then out.
Then all at once, it was gone.
He held my bare ass, the supple leather of his glove juxtaposed with his bruising grip. Then he dragged me from his shoulder and my feet hit something solid, very muchnotearth.
Casket.
He’d placed me in an open fucking grave.
My dress fell back into place as his hands left my waist, the torn edges blowing in the night breeze. Then he stood to his full height. He was already fucking tall. At this angle, he was monstrous. He was clearly fit too. His black shirt clung to the ripples and grooves of his muscles. There was also something athletic about his build, like he’d gotten his muscles through use, not a gym.
All black against a blacker night, he seemed to grow and disappear into the night sky. A shadow. A god. A demon there to deliver judgment.
The casket was suspended, so his cock was eye level with mine. The outline hard and rigid against his thigh.
I reached forward and grasped his belt?—
He knotted his hand in my hair, tearing my head back painfully.Deliciously.
“You haven’t earned that.”
The tips of my fingers slid beneath his waistline as I held on to the belt. Muscles flexed beneath my touch. Iron hard.
I was touching him.
His hot, hidden flesh felt illicit.
“But…” I said, trying not to think about how I could feel his muscles contract like he was holding himself back. His grip in my hair flexed in sync with the bob of his Adam’s apple.
I eyed the knife in his other hand.
As if reading my thoughts, he laughed. “Nah, little Maniac, you haven’t earnedthateither.”
He forced me to my knees using the grip in my hair.
