Page 8 of Run, Little Thief

Finally, my brain snaps back on and I take action. I struggle with him, desperately trying to get free, but he holds me in an iron grip. Each time I move, my ass rubs more against his cock.

“Fuck. You!”

“Do you want to?” Reaper pushes me harder against the altar, the edges biting into my skin. “Or would you rather I punish you?”

I gasp for air as his fingers slip under the hem of my panties and find me embarrassingly wet.

“Oh, you little slut,” he rasps in my ear. “You like that, don’t you? Having a stranger’s hand in your pants . . . someone who won’t play nice but will kill you if you don’t obey.”

I battle the whimper threatening to escape my throat. His words are cruel, but . . . fuck, they’re a huge turn-on.

I’ve never thought of myself as someone who enjoys being talked to like this. Being held captive against my will. But is it really against my will when I’m the one pressing my hips into his grip, urging him on?

Rough fingers tease my clit in torturously slow circles. “Where are the files, little thief?”

I bite back a sob. “What . . . files . . .?”

If I give in now, I’m as good as dead. He’ll kill me the second I hand them over. I have no doubt about that. But if I can justhold onto them, there’s a slight chance I might survive this night or somehow find a way out of this mess.

He increases the pressure, his hot breath grazing my neck. His body’s holding me up though my knees want to give in.

Fuck, this is so wrong . . . So deliciously, alarmingly wrong.

“Tell me,” he hisses and plunges one finger inside of me.

This time I can’t hold anything back.

I moan loudly, and my eyes fall shut.

Is this really happening? Am I letting him do this to me? In a church, of all places?

CHAPTER 4

Istop fighting and grab the stone for support instead. When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is the massive wooden cross right above the altar.

I should be ashamed. I should feel terrible about this, but I can’t bring myself to feel anything like that. Could be because the man holding me captive is doing everything in his power to make me forget my own name.

Reaper inserts another finger into my pussy, slowly pumping in and out while pressing the heel of his hand to my clit, creating the perfect friction, as if he knows my body inside out. As if he’s done this to me a thousand times.

And me? I can’t help myself. My hips move without my permission. My pussy floods his fingers with even more wetness.

Fuck, I’m so close.

Getting railed on a church altar was not on my bingo card this year, but here we are, and I sure as hell can’t complain. I won’t stop him either, even if he kills me afterward. At least I’ll get an orgasm out of it.

“The files,” he reminds me, but his voice sounds strained, and his fingers move at a punishing pace.

“I’m . . . I . . . oh . . .”

My skin tingles. My whole body coils. I’m right on the edge. I just need a little more . . .

Just . . . a bit . . .

Without warning, he takes his hand out of my panties, spins me around, and pushes me down to my knees. It all happens so quickly my mind can barely grasp what’s going on, but my body screams for his touch.

He’s still fully clothed, still wearing his skull mask, as I kneel in front of him in nothing but a sliced-open shirt, my favorite pink bra, and unzipped trousers.

Without breaking eye contact, he opens his belt first, then his pants.