Page 105 of Petrify

“Why’d you kill him?”

“He fell, I didn’t—” My throat tightens.

“What did he do?”

“Please.”

“Mallary.”

“Stop.” Shoving against his chest, even when my legs tighten around his hips, pushing him away again, unable to truly escape his grasp.

“Then stop lying to yourself,” he growls, fingers bruising my thigh. He grinds his cock against me, so hard it almost hurts. “Just admit it. You and I are the same, and that’s okay. Nothing wrong with it, Mallary.”

He’s killed so many people, and Jason was an accident, it’s not the same, I am not like him, I don’t do these things, I don’t let my anger make me a serial killer.

I don’t kill people.

He grips my jaw and forces me to stare into his eyes. “Admit it.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Youcan,” he groans. He reaches between us, his hand brushing against my clit through my shorts, and my back arches at the contact. He sucks in a sharp breath. And then he’s fumbling with his fly, and moving aside my underwear, notching his cock at my entrance.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” I grit my teeth, shivering from the anticipation, from the frigid air.

But he doesn’t move any further. “Admit it.”

My fingers twist in his hoodie, my cunt already dripping, ready for him, like my body knew this was coming.

“You murdered Jason.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

He says my name one more time, like a warning. It’s my last chance. My hips shift under him, needing another inch, needing him to sheath his cock deep inside, needing him to make me forget.

He’s ripping me apart.

“Yes.” I exhale, slamming shut my eyes.

And then he groans as he presses into me, his cock forcing its way through my flesh. “Yes what?”

“I—I murdered him.” Tears warm my cheeks. When his cock fully seated inside of me, only seconds later, I struggle to breathe in the cool, thin air. He’s too big. It’s too much, it’s all too much.

He thrusts again, his hips snapping against mine, stealing all my thoughts away. “Tell me how.”

“I—” My eyes roll back as he plunges into me again, and again.

“How, Mallary?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know the stairs—he fell—” I’m struggling to string the words together, my thoughts scrambling at the heady pleasure ripping through me. He could get anything from me like this. Could make me say anything.

“You pushed him down the stairs.” Satisfied, either at getting the answer out of me, or at the way my cunt grips his cock. He doesn’t slow, each thrust brutal and deep.

My vision blurs through the tears. “I pushed him—and the stairs—they just—I didn’t know?—”

“Yes you did. You’re not stupid, Mallary.”

“I didn’t mean to.” My tears are hot as they stream down my face. Always crying, such a disappointment, too sensitive,too much.