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I think I’m going to be sick.
He knows I hate the feel of leather on my face.
“To be honest, I’m surprised, too. Our last communication was actually rather… friendly, wasn’t it?” He caresses my jaw as he caresses the words, sharpening them until they have points he hopes will stick beneath my skin. “Remember? When you started messaging me in the middle of the night asking flimsy questions about my tattoos? When you all but came out and said you couldn’t sleep because you couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
My stomach twists.
I don’t know what he’s talking about, and he knows it.
Hannah messaged him?
Why would she do that?
I haven’t talked to her in a while before tonight, so I guess I’m not surprised she didn’t tell me, but I would’ve thoughthewould.
I guess he would rather hold on to it in his back pocket until he needed to weaponize the information to make a point.
He’s such a fucking jerk sometimes.
Regardless of the fact that, apparently, there was some message I’m just learning about, what he’s saying sounds like bullshit. He’s trying to make me jealous, and I won’t swallow that bait. There’s no way in hell Hannah would ever go behind my back and flirt with him like he’s trying to imply.
If he wants me to believe something that absurd, he had better have irrefutable proof. Something he couldn’t fake.
Even then, I’m not sure I would believe him unless she confirmed it.
He continues, his voice a low, even taunt. “Of course, you never specifically said it wasgoodthoughts of me keeping you awake. Perhaps it was terror and you’re too polite to say so. Perhaps every night when you turn out the lights and climb into bed, a little part of you feels afraid that I’m lurking nearby. That someday I’ll come back and repay a debt of violence on you. Tell me, Hannah,” he says, leaning close as if he’s inhaling the scent of my fear, tipping my chin up and forcing me closer as he nuzzles my fake blond hair. “Is it fear or fascination that keeps you from sleeping?”
That guts me.
The bid for jealousy didn’t hit its mark, but the notion that Hannah is lying awake nights in fear of my boyfriend?
That’s fucking devastating.
I feel stinging behind my eyes as I try to catch my breath, but I will myself to stop before too much moisture gathers there.
I thought at least with us gone, Hannah would have peace.
Dare lets go of my mouth because he needs his hands. He moves my hair over one shoulder and lifts the fabric of myDaddy’s Little Monstershirt away from my skin.
“Don’t move, or I might cut you.”
Fear shoots down my spine, but I lay still and listen to the sound of his blade tearing through the fabric of my shirt. The cool air hits my exposed back, then I gasp as the cool tip of his blade touches my skin just below the clasp of my bra.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just listens to me breathe.
In and out, in and out.
My breaths are quick and shallow, so he knows I’m afraid.
And he likes it.
He chuckles darkly, then sets the knife down on his side of the bed.
His fingers hook the waistband of my booty shorts, and he tugs them down past my thighs.
I gasp at the casual violence as he grabs the ass of my stockings and tears the fabric apart. He could have easily just pulled them down, but that wouldn’t have made my heart race with fear, so he chose this instead.
This feels more like a scary violation, and he knows it.
