Chapter 18 Abi #2
My killer chuckles against my pussy, then drags his tongue hard over my clit. I shriek, arching my spine up to him. He presses down on my thighs, spreading my legs wider. I’m so close to spilling over. I’m just about to—
He pulls away.
“Fuck you!” I scream, jerking myself up to sitting. But my killer shoves me back down, pinning me by the arms. Every part of his face not covered by the mask is glossy with my arousal. And some of it’s streak on his mask, too.
“I’m sorry, little detective,” he purrs, leaning close. “But there’s something I want from you.”
He kisses my mouth then, and I moan into the salty taste of myself. Then he jerks back, his eyes blazing behind his mask.
“What do you want?” I whimper.
He rubs his thumb against my wrist, like he’s feeling for the blood in my veins. “I want you to beg for it,” he says softly. “Beg for my mouth. Beg for your release.”
I shiver, curling my hands into fists. His own hands are wrapped around my wrists, and when he shifts his hips against me, I feel a thick, hard ridge.
The idea of his cock sends another pulse of pleasure through me.
“Why?” I manage to ask, not taking my eyes off him.
He smiles. There’s something almost familiar about it, that smile, and I jolt.
I’ve seen him before.
I don’t know where, though. And I can’t think about it further, because he slides one hand between my legs to roll my clit around in slow, teasing circles.
“Because,” he says. “I want to know that you want it.”
Then he’s eating me out again, and I don’t see his mouth or his smile, just the dark curve of the mask’s leather between my legs.
I glance sideways at our reflection again. At my thick thighs, my breasts swelling beneath my shirt.
At my killer, devouring me whole.
“I don’t hear you begging,” he says from between my legs. “If you want to come, you’d better get started.”
I watch our reflection as I answer. “I thought you wanted to taste my orgasm.”
He laughs again, which just teases my oversensitive pussy even more. “I’m a killer, Abi. I know how to wait for what I want.”
The word killer ricochets around in my head. It makes my pussy ache.
“Please,” I whisper, watching my reflection’s mouth form the words.
“Please, um—“ I swallow, and lift my eyes to the track lighting overhead, warm and tasteful and designed to soften the hard edges of death. My killer’s running his tongue over my cunt in long, slow licks, like he’s savoring my desire. “What should I call you?”
He stops, his breath warm on my pussy. “I don’t have a name,” he finally says, and he rubs my clit softly as he speaks.
“Everyone has a name,” I say shakily.
My killer kisses along my thighs, still teasing my clit. “My name belongs to someone who isn’t really me,” he says. “The real me, the man who’s going to make you come, is nameless.”
“Nameless,” I breathe out. I hadn’t realized I wanted his name until now, and this, it seems, is the closest I’ll get. “Please, Nameless. Make me come.”
Overhead, the lights blur until they look like stars.
“Oh, Abi,” he purrs. “You can do so much better than that.”
He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of my inner thigh—gently, like a warning. I yelp, startled more than anything, and he chuckles and slides his tongue inside my pussy.
At that, I groan and press my hand onto the top of his mask, pinning him in place between my legs as his tongue swipes and curls into my cunt.
“Please,” I cry, thrusting against his mouth. “Please. I want to come. I’m so fucking clo—oh my god! Right there!” He’s doing something to my clit that makes my whole lower body quake in pleasure. “Don’t stop! Please don’t fucking stop!”
I’m peaking against, pleasure surging up in me like a riptide. I think he knows it, too, because he pulls his tongue away with a slow, lazy swipe. I screech in frustration.
“I’m begging you!” I scream, thrusting my hips against his face. “Please! Nameless! Whoever the fuck you are! I’ll die if you don’t let me come!”
He groans when I say that, a deep throaty sound that sends another pulse of pleasure straight through my core. “Say that again,” he growls into my pussy, right before he latches onto my clit.
“I’ll die,” I gasp, my words coming out panty and desperate. I can feel the window to my right, exposing our sin to the world. “If you don’t make me come, I’ll die. You’ll—“ I keen as he thrusts his tongue up inside me. “You’ll fucking kill me if you don’t—”
I’m tilting over, the knot of tension tightening deep in my core. “Please!” I scream, tears streaking out of my squeezed-shut eyes. I dig my fingers against the rubber of his mask until it shifts beneath my touch, and he kisses me harder. “Please, Nameless, I’m begging you to let me co—“
The tension breaks, and ecstasy floods through me.
I lose all my words and can only shriek and flop against the dais as Nameless, my killer, licks me through one hot, fluttering contraction after another.
The world falls away, and I’m just floating on a bed of pleasure.
It seems to stretch on for hours, and Nameless never stops kissing me.
Then I snap back to reality. I’m in the fucking viewing room, spread-legged on the dais where a casket is supposed to go. A murderer is still kissing between my legs, although those kisses have softened, each one leaving a little pulse of heat in its wake.
The window is open.
I gasp and sit up, scooting backward to get away from him. He doesn’t move to stop me. Instead, he just stares at me, his mask slightly askew, his lips swollen.
As I watch, he runs his tongue over them, cleaning his mouth like a cat. Then he pushes back to standing.
I pull my legs closed. Then I reach over and grab the curtain and yank it over the window. Well, half the window. I can’t reach the other side.
But Nameless does it for me, drawing the curtain shut with a low, lazy movement. I’m suddenly afraid of what’s going to happen next.
He turns to me and slides his mask back down.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “For letting me touch you.”
A strange warmth surges through my belly.
No one’s ever said anything like that to me before, and I don’t know how to respond.
So instead I just ask, “N-now what?” The question comes out shaky, and I hate that my eyes drop down to the visible bulge of his erection.
I suddenly want nothing more than to have him in my mouth.
But if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. “I’ll keep watching you, little detective.” He steps around the dais, coming up close to me. But all he does his tilt my face upward with his finger. His eyes blaze beneath the mask. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You killed the man who wanted to hurt me,” I say carefully.
Nameless doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at me. His silence is unnerving,
“There could be someone else,” he finally says.
And before I can register all the things that could mean, he slips away from me—out into the hallway, and out into the dark night.