Page 23 of The Killing Game

THIRTEEN

9:27 P.M.

Asoft glow emanates from the end of the hallway. Shuffles and shakes of something metallic echo off the walls as I get closer. Once I reach the door, I peer through the opening. Jason is standing at the desk at the far side of the room with the safe clearly open. Bags and hunting clothing are strewn about the space; some laying over the green, upholstered high-back chair in the corner, some hanging over the safe door. Jason’s back is to me. His focus remains on the weaponry in front of him.

I slide the door open an inch with my index finger, testing the hinges to see if they’ll give away my position. Satisfied with the silence that follows, I place my right palm flat against the door’s surface. My other hand hovers over the doorknob, a precautionary stance in case I need to catch the door from swinging into the room. Pushing it open enough to slide through, I inch my way into the space and slowly close the door behind me. The click of the lock is indistinguishable from the metallic ticks of the weapons Jason is currently handling.

My heart hammers in my chest. Excitement fizzes up from the pit that was filled with dread moments earlier. The red rope hangs off my right shoulder and the pocket knife I hid away in my room is stored in my back pocket. A warning and a promise. I keep my eyes laser focused on the center of Jason’s back as I inch my way closer to him. Each step is met with soft, shallow breaths. Stalking and binding isn’t my first choice in getting someone to submit, but it’ll do for today. Experimenting makes relationships stronger, right?

Standing mere inches behind him, I carefully pull the rope from my side. Wrapping the rope around, I quickly create the makeshift restraints I’ll need for someone his size. Jason is totally obvious to my presence. Glorious back muscles flex and contract under his dark shirt as he continues his methodical preparation of supplies. The room is filled with metallic clicks, the scent of gunpowder, and a promise of redemption.

I wait until Jason’s finished with the current rifle in his hand before I make my move. The minute the gun clacks down on the desktop, I jump at his back. A circle of red rope swiftly finds its way around his neck. My hands grip the rope nearest to his exposed skin, fingers digging into my palms to ensure I don’t lose my grip. I pull down quickly to find my footing. Jason stiffens before his instincts kick in.

“What the fuck is this?” he chokes out.

His hands fly to the rope around his neck, frenzied to free himself. He tries to reach around to see who his assailant is, but those all too delicious muscles hinder his mobility. I stay just out of reach behind him. A lioness ready to take her prey. Hearing Jason struggle against my restraints only makes me more feral. My core warms at the thought of having him submit to me. I stuff back a moan, remaining focused on my plan.

I wrap the rope around my hands before pulling back again. Jason stumbles from the jolt. The lack of air makes his attempts to escape weak with each panicked breath. I yank again and push my right foot into the backs of his legs as he buckles to his knees.

A low, seductive laugh rises from deep inside me. This is what I live for.

Desperation.

Total loss of control.

Totally mine.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jason sputters. He pries at the rope around his neck. A subtle, pink glow forms around the spot where red fiber meets skin. Keeping the tightness in the restraint, I place one foot on the pressure point of his right calf and push. Can’t have him getting away from me so soon. Jason gasps at the contact. I lean forward, grazing my breasts against his shoulder blades, nipples hardening under the contact. My lips brush past his ear.

“Your worst nightmare or your greatest pleasure,” I whisper. My tongue glides from his lobe to the tip of his ear and I nip at the cartilage. Jason hisses between clenched teeth.

“Ashe? Seriously? Are you crazy?” he asks. His body is still, waiting to figure out my next move.

I pull him back against me and he chokes under the pressure of the rope. His posture starts to falter, most likely from lack of oxygen. I only need to burn ninety more seconds before he passes out and I can start phase two.

“Crazy is an understatement,” I deadpan. “You started this. I’m just finishing it.”

79. 78. 77. 76…

A snort, more resembling a gurgle, escapes his throat. He writhes against the restraints, slumping forward slightly.

57. 56. 55. 54…

“Let me go and I’ll show you how to finish. You seemed to like it the first time,” he groans.

33. 32. 31. 30…

I snort against his neck, inhaling his scent. It’s heady against the stirring excitement. I steady my breath, pushing down my growing arousal. I lean back from him and adjust my grip one last time.

18. 17. 16. 15…

“That’s not how this works. You wanted to know my secret. Well, here it is. Welcome to the freak show, Jason. Let’s have some fun,” I purr.

4. 3. 2. 1…

I give one final squeeze before Jason slumps over onto the floor.

It takes me a few minutes, but I manage to drag his body over to the chair.