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“We had a deal, did we not?”
A tear spills over my lid. And then another and another until I’m on the verge of sobbing.
“Don’t cry, little mouse,” he coos. “It’s going to get so much worse.”
His breath skates over my cheek as he presses himself deeper into my body. He’s so much bigger, his body enveloping me until all I can see, feel, and smell is him. Warmth, leather, that unique scent that belongs to only him, and his black-clad body surrounding me.
“I like you scared,” he whispers, sending shivers down my spine. “I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for God to save you.” I feel the touch of his hand on my face, and I flinch away. His fingers lightly trace over my cheekbone to my hair, tucking the loose strands behind my ear. “I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably.”
“You’re sick,” I snap, doing just that. I’m shaking from head to toe, and I can’t seem to stop it.
“You think you’re only going to beg because you’re fighting for your life, but that’s where you’re wrong. The only way I’ll be sending you to heaven is with my cock.” He grunts out a deep laugh. “And definitely my tongue and fingers, too.”
“That will never happen,” I hiss, glaring at him with all my might. Or at least I think I am.
His eyes are shadowed by the dim light radiating from the sconces. It feels almost like being far-sighted. Your face is so close to something, but clarity evades you. The shadows are a part of him. He carries them with him.
“It’s time to punish you, and I’ve thought of the many ways I could do this,” he says, ignoring my jab. It only infuriates me more that he finds my lack of consent is so inconsequential. So… worthless.
“I’ll be nice this time.” I open my mouth, but he cuts me off with a deep growl of warning, “But only if you are too, Adeline.”
The click of my teeth snapping together is audible, pulling another grunt of amusement from him. My pride takes a hit, and I want to knee him in the balls for it, but I couldn’t lift my leg an inch if I tried.
“What are you going to do?” I choke out, the stutter of my words in sync with the beat of my heart.
His hot breath fans across my cheek, and I feel the glide of his lips alongside my jaw. I swallow, but I nearly choke from how dry my throat has become. Those lips descend to the column of my neck, skittering along until he pauses on the spot right below my ear.
“I’m going to claim you,” he says, right before his teeth clamp down.
My back arches involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in my nerves, sending misfires to my brain. All coherent thoughts escape from my mind as a result, leaving me with nothing but basic instinct.
He groans, his teeth piercing as his tongue laps at my flesh. My mouth opens, a silent scream suctioned away just as his mouth does the same, drawing in deep like he’s drinking the essence from my body. And then he’s pulling back, dragging his teeth along my skin as he lets go, leaving the spot smarting with pain.
My hands press into his chest for stability or to push him away, I am not sure. Though my question is quickly answered when instinct coerces my hands to curl, gripping his hoodie tight and anchoring myself to him as if he’s my lifeline. When really, he’s the one who’s killing me.
Severe shivers wrack my body when he licks a wet trail down to the juncture of my neck. He pauses, and it feels like my body is hanging over a pointed knife. I hold my breath, the anticipation rattling my bones.
And then he’s biting down again, pulling an animalistic sound from the depths of my chest. He does this, over and over, leaving a trail of bruises down my neck and across my shoulder.
I’m breathless by the time he pulls away.
“Good girl,” he breathes, his own voice airy. Somehow, that makes me feel worse. I want him to hate it as much as I should’ve.
I can’t explain why I do what I do next. I’ll ask God later. But in that moment, I’m so overcome with a tsunami of emotions that I reach up and bite his cheek.
Hard.
Blood spurts into my mouth, but I don’t care, I just bite harder.
Maybe I want to hurt him back. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him feel whatever I feel.
Regardless of the reason, he doesn’t take kindly to it. His hand wraps around my throat, pushing me back while he rips his face away. My head thumps against the wall, a dull throb radiating from the spot.
He’s squeezing tightly, but I don’t care. I feel justified. If he kills me here and now, at least I can say I left one last mark on him.
He growls low, a sound of frustration and something else that I can’t put a name to.
