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I don’t know if I love or hate this.
“Lyric.” I say his name with a full body shiver.
“Shh,” he says, his eyes glued to my clit. “I’ll give you exactly what you crave.” His voice sounds foreign. This is the man who shoved a gun in my mouth and made me suck on it after he just killed a man. “Look at you, all flushed and exposed.”
Goose bumps race over my body, and I want nothing more than to rub my thighs together, but I can’t. Lyric drags the blade over my clit until I feel the pinch of the blade against my outer lips.
It takes everything in me to keep my hips still.
“You want to express just how much you want me so badly. Look at your muscles twitching.” His voice carries on the wind, making me shiver. He drags the blade down, cutting my lips until I feel them sting. There’s a crazed look in his eyes as he watches. I feel the blood drip down my pussy, and Lyric shudders, dragging the blade down until I feel it press at my opening.
For a small second, I fear he might fuck me with the blade. My body freezes, and my muscles twitch just as he said they were. I feel my walls clamp down and push cream out from my core, mingling with the blood.
The metal disappears, and before I can breathe in my relief, Lyric drops down and laps at the blood and arousal, licking it away.
The press of something hard at my entrance has my hips shifting in anticipation.
With one swift thrust, cold metal invades my inner core, and Lyric latches onto my clit.
He’s meticulous as he fucks me with the object, which I’m sure is the hilt of his blade.
I dig my hands deeper into the earth at the thought—something I’ll have to investigate later, especially as my body coils from the danger. Lyric works my body up fast then pulls back, only to watch as his hand thrusts the knife in and out of me.
He says nothing, but he oozes with a danger that has me clenching down on the hilt.
When his breath gusts over my clit before latching on, he thrusts the entire knife inside me until I feel like he’s tempting fate with that blade at my entrance.
I crash from all the pent-up sexual frustration.
I crash from the temptation the three men in my life present.
I crash, knowing I’m already addicted to them, to the danger, to the moment.
I fucking crash until lights dance in my vision and my orgasm steals me from reality. Lyric murmurs to me, making me scream his name into the forest, where the trees swallow the noise. My body twitches as the earth cradles me, and Lyric’s thrusts slow.
The knife gets yanked from me, and Lyric rises above me, his lips crashing against mine in a brutal clash of mouths and lips. He kisses me as he rocks against me, his movements becoming frantic as he finds his release—a release that he moans into my mouth.
Pulling away from me, Lyric rises to his feet, his chest heaving with exertion. I remain sprawled on the forest floor, my thoughts scattered like fallen leaves. He alone stripped away all my worries, fears, and rationalizations, leaving me as nothing more than a boneless heap of flesh pulsating with the aftershocks of pleasure.
Lyric leans down, his lips grazing my earlobe as he speaks in a low, seductive murmur. “Next time you decide to run, Charlotte, all you’ll be able to wonder is where I’m hiding.” His warm breath sends shivers down my spine. He lingers momentarily, teasing my senses before rising to his full height and unhooking my legs, releasing me from the vulnerable position he pinned me in.
With a playful wink, he retrieves his knife, and without another word, he takes off into the wilderness, disappearing among the trees. I’m left alone in the clearing, my body still tingling from the intensity of my orgasm.
As I gather my clothes and start dressing, I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched, that Lyric’s presence lingers nearby, even though I can’t see him. Every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind seems to carry a hidden message, a reminder of the enigmatic man who just claimed me most unconventionally.
A sense of unease, the feeling that I’m not alone, accompanies my jog home. Lyric is still out there, somewhere in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on me. It’s the only thing keeping me from the madness of thinking that what happened in the woods was nothing but a figment of my imagination. Despite everything, I reach my house safely, stepping inside with a mixture of relief and anticipation.
Even as I lock the door behind me and feel the comforting embrace of my familiar surroundings, I can’t shake the eerie sensation that Lyric is watching, a constant reminder of the captivating and dangerous world I’ve willingly stepped into. Despite my unease, though, there is an undeniable thrill, a magnetic pull that keeps me drawn to the mysterious man who has ignited a fire within me like no other.
Eighteen
Mystery shrouds Lenoralike a cloak of secrets, the air thick with intrigue. In this quiet town, far removed from the chaos of the world, assassins and their pursuits lurk in the shadows, leaving cryptic trails of their existence. Despite the shifting tides of the world beyond, though, Lenora stands resolute—an unyielding anchor in the hurricane of life.
Here, the ordinary and extraordinary converge, weaving a tapestry of enigmatic tales. Whispers of clandestine dealings and hidden agendas resonate through the streets, drawing those who seek answers into a web of uncertainty. In Lenora, the boundaries between reality and illusion blur, leaving residents and newcomers alike to navigate a landscape where nothing is as it seems.
Each footstep toward the diner is like a nail being hammered into my coffin. Each person I pass with a friendly smile and greeting only dredges up my curiosity.
Do they know who Desmond is and what he’s done?
