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This is so fucking confusing.
I shouldn’t be turned on by this.
“I know you were dreaming of me,” he whispers. “I was watching you sleep.” I swallow thickly, my eyes widening. There’s no remorse in his voice or on his face. It isn’t even a confession–he’s narrating his fucked-up stalking as if it’s perfectly normal. How often has he done this? “You were touching your sweet little cunt, pinching your nipples.” I look away from his eyes, focusing on his wound that’sstillbleeding. “I was so fucking livid, Alize. I was going to kill whoever you were thinking about.”
My breath catches.
“But then you said my name.” He trails the knife over the lace fabric of my panties. Not heavy enough to cut, but enough for me to feel the point of it on my pussy.Oh god.The pressure is exhilarating, and it takes everything not to buck against the blade. “That’s when I knew I had to have you,” Alexander mutters. “It’s all an act, isn’t it?” The knife stills, right over my aching clitoris. I’m desperate for the slightest bit of friction. My gaze flicks to his. “Underneath all the hatred, you still fucking want me. You miss my touch because you know nobody can make you feel the way I can.”
The tears in the corner of my eyes roll down the side of my head as I look up at him. The smirk on his face tells me that it’s a rhetorical question, that he already knows the answer and just wants me to stroke his ego some more.
I wish it wasn’t true.
I wish I hated him more. I wish my hatred could rid me of the inexplicable pull I feel whenever he’s in the room. Of the way goosebumps prickle my skin from a single touch. I may hate Alexander for what he did to me, but my bodyloveshim.
“You’re mine, Alize,” he says. “Mine to own. Mine to protect. Mine to please. And I’m yours if you would just fuckinghaveme.”
I whimper.
Alexander cuts my underwear open. He stabs the fabric through with the blade and raises it between us. It’s soaked through with my arousal, obvious even in the dreary light. He makes a guttural noise, like an animal.
He’s on the edge too.
“You’re such a slut for me. You’re so wet it’s dripping down your legs.” He licks his lips. “You love it when I use a knife on you, sweetheart?”
I'm in a trance of lust. I nod, my lips trembling.
“Then I ought to stop.” He tosses the knife to the nightstand. It clatters against a half-empty glass of water. “This is where your enjoyment ends, sweetheart.” He chuckles to himself. “Well, maybe this is where it will really start. I have a feeling you’ll like this too. I’m sure you would like anything that involves taking my cock like a fucking whore.”
What the hell does he—
Without warning, he flips me over on the bed like I’m a rag doll. His strong hand comes down around the back of my neck, forcing my face into the bed. Alexander grabs my hips, hoisting my ass in the air and pulling me toward him.
My hands fly out, gripping the sheets but it’s no use. He’s too strong. I flail my hands, clawing at his wrists, his forearms, anything. I rake my fingernails, digging into him. He doesn’t flinch, even though I know it hurts.
“I’ve hated your fucking behavior the last few days,” he hisses. The softness is gone. Now, he’s just angry. And it makes my pussy even wetter than it already is. This is going to hurt, and I’m excited. “This is your punishment.”
Punishment.
My blood is pumping faster. Every nerve in my body is raw and exposed. His blood trickles on to my back. Dread coils in my chest, mixing with the choking lust that has my head spinning. My ass is up in the air, and I can practically feel his eyes roving every inch of my sensitive flesh.
I’m bare and defenseless in front of him. An offering to the angry, deranged god.
There’s only one way this can end.
His sweats fall to the floor in a soft thud. That’s the only warning I get before he plunges his thick cock inside me. The bed eats my scream as Alexander drives into me without mercy. I sink my fingernails even deeper into the skin of his forearm.
He responds by pumping even harder.
My body stretches to accommodate him, but it still hurtssomuch. Like I’m being torn open from the inside out, and the tip of his cock hits something deep inside me that sends a riveting pain straight to my fingertips.
I let go of his hands and curl my fingers in the sheets.
My eyes are wet from tears, and the hum of my heartbeat is indistinguishable in the symphony of sex filling the room—the wet sounds of his cock pumping me mercilessly, hungrily. I push back on his shaft, my core dripping and convulsing around him.
The pain morphs into something more familiar.
Something I like. Something I want more of. Something only he can give me.
