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“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice ice-cold, panting against my mouth. With a dead look in his eyes, he grins. Before I can blink, he flips me over on my stomach and sits on my legs—his erection digging into my butt while I squirm. I scream and try to whack him in the head with the gun, but the fucker keeps me pinned under him.
“I’m going to kill you,” I scream, and he chuckles, slapping my ass hard with the back of his hand. The sting sends a shiver down my spine, and my pussy gets wet instantly.
“God, I love the way your flesh turns pink,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, as he caresses my ass.
I tilt my pelvis trying to turn around, but he holds me down with his full weight and slaps my ass again, over and over until tears spill over and I scream.
“Scream for me baby, that’s it.” His voice is filled with lust. He rips my arms above my head and wipes the gun from my hand. It falls on the floor with a dull thud. I try to whip my head back to slam him in the nose, but the bastard anticipates my moves, and digs his knee into my back while he secures my hands with zip ties above my head. He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, crushing my back to his chest, while I struggle to break free.
“I like the fight in you, takes me back to our night,” he purrs, his mouth against my ear.
“Screw you, buddy, I’m going to shoot you in the fucking dick for this,” I growl out.
He chuckles and licks a path up my neck stopping at my ear. His hot breath sends shivers down my core before stopping at my clit. “Don’t threaten me with a good time Miss James. You’re getting me hard as hell.” He groans, digging his erection into my back to underline his point, and parts my ass cheeks with the head of his wet cock. “You know, I haven’t fucked anyone since burying my dick in your sweet heaven you call a pussy,” he moans, pushing his hand between my body and the bed. He roughly cups my sex and I yelp when he pushes his middle finger inside the fabric soaked with my cream, his dick parting my crack from behind.
“So wet, just like before,” he mutters thickly, swirling his digit around angrily. My toes curl in the sheets as the first spasms of my orgasm reach the surface almost tipping me over the edge.
“What are you talking about?” I grit out, trying to struggle free.
“This pussy is mine. Did those boys make you come?” he asks, whispering against my ear with a wickedness to his voice. “Did they know what you want?”
“You are going to die.”
“Shh,” he says, pushing the finger against my mouth that was just inside me, fuck this guy is crazy.
“You like it when someone takes you when he pleases. I rubbed my hand raw in all those years thinking about your memory,” he says, teasing his middle finger from left to right over my bottom lip. “And then I turn around and you go for nice vanilla farm boys when I know for a fact you like it when someone fucks you until you’re begging me to stop. You like the thrill, the hunt, the pain, admit it.”
“Screw you, asshole, you don’t know shit.”
“I know what you want. I know your secrets. I know you only moved back to New Orleans and started hunting again six months ago. What did you do those other years? And who is Ignatius?” He says, his voice muffled by my neck.
No, no, I can’t have him find out about Iggy. The only reason I came back is because the son of a bitch who still haunts my dreams is dead. But why does he know about what happened in the shipping container?
“Don’t worry, I will find out sooner or later,” he snarls, blowing out a deep breath.
“I’m not going to tell you shit.” My stomach twists, and bile rises in my throat.
“Is that right? You liked having my gun teasing your sweet smelling cunt, didn’t you?” He says, his voice haltering while his rough hands move over my curves. “I’m gonna make you talk, baby.”
I whimper and he grows even harder against my thigh. The man is enormous, his hands twice the size as mine as he wraps one hand around my neck applying pressure, cutting off my oxygen.
“How did you find out I was coming for you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he purrs, rubbing his cock back and forth over my butt crack, the lace digging between my cheeks.
“I’m going to bring you in,” I say, struggling under his hold. “You are nothing but a cold-blooded killer,” I wail, while he tugs the lace of my string back letting it slam between my ass crack and hitting my swollen pussy lips.
His hand moves down to my ass and under the lace to tease my puckered hole before he pulls, snapping the fabric.
“Stop,” I whisper, fighting against the trembles of my body.
He stops nuzzling my neck and bites my earlobe hard. I scream while he pushes my arms higher above my head, turning my body to the side so his left hand can move down my body following the line of my curves to my breast. He twists my nipple painfully, and I mewl, squirming in the sheets. My arousal drips out while he turns me on my back. “A pierced nipple, you’re a dirty little cunt, are you?” His voice thick with lust.
“Fuck you,” I swear, trying to ignore the shot of electricity running to my clit from his calloused fingers.
“You know I could kill you in a second if I wanted to,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse while his fingers travel down, only stopping to push my shirt up so he can run them over my naked flesh. “And you smell so good, what is it, mint and vanilla?”
I struggle and groan when he rips my underwear still stuck to my leg and digs two fingers into my pussy without warning. “Another piercing, you keep surprising me,” he groans while tears rush to my eyes. He leans down and kisses my temple. “So wet, I’m going to have so much fun playing with you before I kill you one orgasm at a time. But I’m a little disappointed, I told you not to shave.” Swirling his fingers through my wetness, my clit starts to pulse.
