Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
He brought it closer, and I held my breath, feeling my eyes widen as I stared at him.
The overhead light glinted off the very tip of the blade, the only part the matte finish had seemingly worn off, and something in me twisted, my belly warming, turning liquid. I shifted on my feet, my back pressing hard to the door.
Maybe he could read my body language because his rough chuckle had another rush of heat moving through me.
He slowly brought his hand forward, the knife so close to my face that I sucked in a sharp breath. I didn’t dare move, too terrified of what he was going to do… and of how I was feeling in this moment.
My body shook, but honestly, I couldn’t describe exactly what I was feeling. This felt wrong on every single level. There was this maniac wielding a knife in front of my face, yet here I was, my panties starting to dampen from my fear. From my excitement.
I squeezed my eyes shut at the first touch of that sharp tip against the side of my throat. It was right over my pulse point, and I knew he could see it beating right below my ear, my heart racing as if I were a rabbit in the woods running for its life.
“Look at that,” he murmured, and I could sense his face so close to mine, even as I kept my eyes tightly shut. I could hear his heavy breathing.
He slid the blade down my neck, along my collarbone, and rested the tip right over my heaving breasts. My top barely concealed the mounds, and all it would take was one flick of his wrist, and the material would slice in half.
“You’re terrified, but your cunt is drenched. Isn’t that right, my little whore?”
I turned my head and exhaled, whimpering, because what I felt was very much fear, but there was also a sick pleasure laced with it.
There’s something wrong with me.
I was fucked up.
“Fucking look at me.”
I shook my head. “No.”
He tightened his hold on my throat to the point I couldn’t breathe. I did open my eyes then, a survival instinct I had no control over.
I don’t know why I listened, why I obeyed. But I faced him and opened my eyes, and a second later, my jaw went slack when he shoved his hand that was around my throat—still covered in that leather glove—between my thighs. I didn’t move, though, because he still held that huge knife steady between my breasts.
The skirt was so short that he barely had to push it up before his fingers were pressed to my panty-covered pussy. I rose on my tiptoes at the instant feeling of shock and sinister pleasure. And when he started rubbing me like a fiend, my mouth opened. His body heat went straight through the leather glove and straight to my core.
“If I take this glove off and slide my fingers through your slit, would it prove you’re my dirty, fucking slut?”
I heard him inhale, although there was no way he could smell anything.
“Leave me alone,” I whispered, my hands fisted at my sides. I should be calling out for help, or, at the very least, be trying to push him away.
Fight back.
But I was in shock, unable to move as he added pressure, sliding his fingers firmly up and down my cleft. Plus, the knife was right… there. I was thankful his fingers were covered. Because the very idea he’d be able to feel how wet I was humiliated me to my marrow.
“Leave you alone?” He laughed sinisterly. “Little rabbit, the fun has only begun. I was in search of prey, and I found a pretty little thing who will no doubt fight me tooth-and-nail.” He leaned in and pressed his hard cock against my hip, distracting me from everything else.
He was huge. Felt like steel.
“I’m going to have fun making you my whore.”
And then I gasped when I felt a flash of pain on my inner thigh. It was when he brought the blade up that I realized he’d cut me before I even noticed he’d moved it, a droplet of blood slowly sliding down the metal.
He brought it to his mask, and a second later, he lifted only the bottom of the disguise with his knuckles so his mouth was revealed.
Dark scruff. Full lips. A smirk.
I knew he was still watching me as he dragged his tongue from the hilt all the way to the tip of the blade. When he pulled it away, I could see a light smearing of my blood on his tongue. And as he pulled his mask back down, he hummed, as if he were getting off on this.
He probably is.
“I’m going to call the cops. I’m going to tell carnival security about you.” I licked my lips, my mouth dry, my tongue thick.