Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Overpowering, overwhelming, and knocks the breath out of me.
He crushes me with his weight, crowding my space, until only my gasps echo in the gloomy air surrounding us.
The rush of energy from earlier surges through my bones and I flail my legs, trying to kick him, to reach any part of him, but I might as well be hitting a wall.
He grabs my wrists and slams them behind my back as he eases off me. Or more like, his knees fall on either side of me and he straddles my arse.
“Caught you.” His voice, gruff and gravelly, echoes with frightening finality.
I try to wiggle, to set myself free, but it’s impossible. He’s gripping me with utter ease while I’m exerting, panting, and completely at my wit's end.
He pins my wrists down with an elbow and grabs the waist of my jeans, and then a long slicing sound fills my ears before cold air forms goosebumps on my skin.
The knife.
He cut my jeans and underwear with his knife.
A foreign sensation flares through me.
The thought that the sharp blade could nip at my skin keeps me still as he slashes my hoodie and my bra from behind like he’s cutting through butter.
The cold knife touches my back and I shudder. With my clothes falling off me in shreds, I’m fully exposed to him, his callous touch, and his merciless knife.
If I don’t do something, he might act on whatever murderous thoughts are in his cold-blooded brain.
The need to fight and run pulses through me and I use his loosened hold on my wrists to do so.
He releases me, but the moment I’m crawling away, something tears at my skull.
A tight fist grips my hair and drags me back onto the hard wood. I scream, and it’s heightened by the looming silence.
And yet I don’t stop fighting, flailing, scattering the remaining pieces of my jeans and hoodie.
I’ve never experienced this sort of demented survival mode before. I don’t want to escape, and I already agreed to be his prey by running instead of leaving, so I’m not sure why I’m doing this.
Maybe it’s to draw out the beast inside him, entice him, and turn him into a crazed being.
Jeremy effortlessly pushes me onto my back with his hold on my hair. The breath is knocked out of my lungs when I meet the solid deck.
But it’s not only due to the impact.
I freeze at the shadow hovering over me, chest rising and falling with terrifying calmness. I can make out the bulging of his muscles against the black shirt, the rippling of his ink, and the darkness of his eyes behind the mask.
There’s also the knife in his left hand.
“You look so innocent, but that head of yours is a fucked-up place, Lisichka. My fucked-up place.” He kneels between my legs and slides the blunt side of the blade against my pussy.
I shudder when he lifts it under the moonlight and I watch, entrapped, as it glistens with my arousal.
My rasping breaths start tumbling out of my mouth the longer he forces me to see the sick evidence of my tendencies. A tinge of shame settles at the bottom of my belly despite myself.
I’m lying here fully naked while he’s entirely dressed. And I don’t miss the inequality of the situation and how much power he holds.
“You’re so wet for my cock, so sensitive and horny. You act like a prude, but you’re nothing but a dirty little slut.”
My ears heat and I try to close my legs, but he digs his fingers in the tender flesh and slaps them apart.
He’s on me then, his fingers pinching my nipples, torturing, squeezing. An onslaught of emotion rushes through me as he touches me everywhere—my breasts, my throat, my stomach, my thighs.
I’m trembling beneath him, a leaf with nowhere to fall.
This is the feeling I’ve always yearned for; the abandon of losing control and allowing someone else to do everything.
To take.
And take.
And Jeremy is definitely the type who takes.
He gives me untold pleasure in return. A raw lash of his fingers and knife so that I become a vessel for his depravity.
I’m nothing more than a doll he molds into his plaything and manhandles any way he wishes, and all I can do is take it.
Or I can say the safe word.
Smoke.
But that would mean this whole thing would end.
As if hearing my thoughts, Jeremy lifts his head from the puffy flesh of my nipples and the air grows silent. He pants from beneath his mask, in sync with my heavy breaths.
It’s a silent communication.
An understanding.
I’m the beast and you’re my prey, his eyes tell me.
Don’t let me be a coward or allow me to escape, must be what I’m communicating back.
Still maintaining eye contact, he slides the blunt side of his knife through my folds. A sense of terror takes hold of me, but that slowly subsides when the rhythm becomes pleasurable.