Page 89 of Lethal Attraction

I want to add to the conversation, but sleep is already ripping me away. My eyes blink so languidly that I forget they’re closed until I can’t find the strength to open them again.

My next bout of concussions is like someone dumped ice-cold water down my back and slapped me hard. My eyelids rip open as I gasp and my head shoots up. Pain throbs across my temples, making me tense up as I sway in my seated position.

Only to realize I can’t fucking move my arms.

My head whips down, and I stare in stunned silence at the rope that’s bound me tightly to the wooden chair beneath me. My suit jacket is gone, but I’m still dressed in my button-down and slacks.

I frown at the dirty concrete beneath me before peering to my left. The walls that surround me are made of aged wooden planks, their surfaces warped and rotting. Thin shafts of light peek through the gaps in the boards, cutting pale lines across the dusty interior. The air smells of dirt and something citrusy—like a strong chemical cleaner.

But the most terrifying part is the workbenches.

They’re lined with sharp tools that look new and shiny against the withered interior. The closest one to me makes my pulse hammer at the array of metal. The blade of a saw in the corner reflects a small beam of light across the shed.

“You’re awake.”

My chin tilts up at the sound of Thalia’s voice as she emerges from the dark shadows across from me with something sharp in her hands. I squint at it, my blood running hot when I realize it’s a box cutter with a single angular blade.

She’s no longer dressed in her tattered gown from the gala. My eyes rake greedily over her figure, soaking in every dip and luscious curve. The black latex mini dress clings to her and connects by a garter. Her breasts are pushed up, almost spilling out of the low neckline. Heeled, knee-high boots click across the cement, and I catch the blood-red underside of her shoe.

My cock responds instantly, pulsing against the inside of my thigh as I soak in her pale skin and siren eyes.

“Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, Reed?” She teases with a small smile as she slides the side of the blade across her palm.

I blink at her question as danger and desire mix like gasoline and fire. “What?”

Fuck, it’s hard to focus with her dressed like that…

She saunters over to me before squeezing my cheeks between her fingers and leaning so close that our noses brush. “Pay attention, pet. Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?”

I swallow, nodding. “Yes.”

She hums approval deep in her throat. “Good. So I don’t have to explain what’s about to happen to you.”

My mouth is fucking watering as the scent of cherries washes over me. “W-what does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to take such good care of you. You won’t even have to think for yourself.”

That sounds utterly toxic. And intoxicating. I think I’m fucked in the head…

She holds up the box cutter, turning it over as a stray ray of light glints on the blade. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you.”

My eyes flutter as she places the cutter at the base of my throat. The sharp point bites into my flesh, and an involuntary sound, a moan mixed with a hiss, escapes me at the first incision. Warmth trickles down my chest as she carves two swelling bumps that meet—a perfect heart. My cock is so hard that it’s painful and I can feel the fresh bead of precum leaking from the tip. My pulse screams in my ears as my hips shift to relieve some of the tension.

Thalia draws back with a smile as she observes her work. She lifts two fingers to my wound before collecting some of the blood on her digits and holding it up for me to see. “Are you going to be my good boy and watch me?”

“Yes,” I breathe raggedly.

She steps a little further back to the closest workbench. The whole time she hoists herself up, she never breaks eye contact with me. The intimacy we create is something unmatched, as everything else around us fades.

Once she’s settled on the table’s top, she uses her heel to position a short rolling stool beneath her to support her right foot. Her thighs fall apart and any other thought in my head completely evaporates. She props her other heel up on the edge of the table, opening herself wide to me.

Her pretty pussy is flushed and swollen, her juices coating her petals in glistening honey that makes me pull at my restraints.

I would give anything to bury my face in her right now…

“Remember,” she tuts as she moves her blood-soaked fingers closer to her entrance, “you’re watching, pet.”

She shoves my essence inside her, using it to lube her fingers as she slowly pumps them in and out. Blood mixes with her arousal as her lips fall apart and a beautiful sound crests past them. She fucks herself slow, deliberate, her hips rolling in time with the wet sounds of her pussy taking her fingers deeper. The blood smears across her inner thighs, dark and glistening, and I can’t look away.