Chapter 15 #3
“Keep going.” He licks at my thigh, where I can feel the blood. Using only his sense of touch, he chases the taste of it,until he’s licking at the little wound he’s made. “Beg, Scaredy Cat.”
“I don’t want to die. Please don’t—”
“Are you scared?”
I hesitate, my throat closing around the admission. He doesn’t press the issue. He just continues to lick at the cut, though I know it’s no longer bleeding as his tongue rasps over the sensitive skin where he cut me.
I’m not scared.
I’m terrified.
My hands rattle in the handcuffs, my chest heaving with every breath that might be my last. The way my heart beats in my chest—rapid and pounding—is nothing compared to the feeling of butterflies in my stomach.
“Yes,” I whisper at last.
The knife drops to the table with a thud, and my stalker readjusts his grip. “Say it again,” he orders, his voice rough and husky. “Say it properly.”
“I’m scared of you.” The words are easier now that I’ve admitted it. “I’m so fucking scared—”
He doesn’t let me finish. Suddenly, his mouth finds the apex of my thighs, and he licks his tongue over my folds with so much enthusiasm that I know it can’t be fake.
He doesn’t give me time to get used to it, and ignores my shocked little gasp.
His tongue works against me, locating my clit with ease and sucking loudly against it, his teeth occasionally brushing it.
With both of his hands gripping my thighs, he can easily keep me open and in place while he devours me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“W-wait…wait…” I pant the words, head spinning, as my hips buck and writhe in his grip.
“Please, I—I’m—” Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.
Pleasure surges through me like fire, radiating from his mouth all the way up to my fingers.
With a shock, I realize belatedly that I’m dragging him against me with my heel in his shoulder blade, instead of trying to push him away like I should.
“You—oh, fuck! You should at least tell me your name!” I demand in a high, uneven voice. “It doesn’t feel fair that you know mine.”
“Unfair?” he lifts his head enough to chuckle.
“Oh, poor baby. Poor little thing.” His words are cruel in a taunting way, and he dips his face to bite down on my inner thigh.
But this time, it’s more than a nip. He growls when I pull in a breath, his tongue laving over the sensitive flesh he’s sucking against and his teeth are buried in.
If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to have a hickey to rival any that this world has ever seen.
“You’ll just have to live with that unfairness for now, Scaredy Cat. But when I make you come, you’re more than welcome to call me your stalker.” He licks over the spot again, and I shudder at how sensitive I am after the voracity of his teeth and tongue.
Without waiting for my response, he goes right back to what he was doing, his mouth unerringly finding my slit.
His tongue works into me, curling and licking like he wants to taste every inch of me.
With his grip tight on my thighs, all I can do is curl my fingers into my palms while he shoves his face into my pussy and shows me the meaning of the word devour.
At a particularly harsh swipe of his tongue on my clit, my back arches and I have to close my eyes against the darkness of the barn. “Wait…” I pant.
“Why?” He lets go of my thigh, obviously trusting me to stay put, and slides two now bare fingers into me. “Because you’re so close for me, Persy? Because you’re going to come for me?”
“Because the ghost of Jeremy Lane is going to slit your throat,” I snap in reply, unable to help myself.
He laughs, obviously not offended, and adds another finger, fucking me with them. He scissors them inside me and curls them until he finds that spot that has my back arching off of the table like I might levitate, if not for the handcuffs.
“I’ll take my chances.” His tongue swipes over my clit once, then again, and that’s the only restraint he shows before he teases and licks at me mercilessly as his fingers work in and out of me.
The sounds that leave my mouth have gotten louder, more embarrassing, and I know I’ll never be able to live them down.
“Come on, Persephone,” my stalker growls against my inner thigh, kissing near where he left the mark on my skin. “Come for me. Be a good girl and come on my fingers. Show me just how greedy your pussy is, babe. I want to feel how good it’ll be when I have you coming on my cock instead.”
His words just serve to fuel my orgasm, and his tongue on my clit pushes me to my release that has me crying out for him, though the words that leave my mouth are just a few different slurred curses and swear words. Some of which I’ve probably made up on the spot.
My stalker’s fingers slow, before he finally pulls them free. “Good girl,” he praises, the words sending a warm little shiver of excitement through me, even though all I can do is lay there on the cold table with my hands still cuffed above me.
“Such a perfect thing, aren’t you?” He rests my legs back on the table, and seconds later I arch my hips as he helps me pull my leggings back on, to my surprise.
Even in the dark, he’s surprisingly quick and graceful at it, and next he adjusts my bralette and hoodie, until no part of me is against the roughness of the wood below me.
“Thank you,” I breathe, politeness winning out at the sweet, affectionate gesture.
“For the best orgasm of your life?”
I scoff and roll my eyes, even though he can’t see. “No, asshole. And that’s pretty arrogant of you, don’t you think?”
“Not at all.” He leans over me again, catching my lips with his as his hand cups the side of my face. “Listen closely, Persy, because this is how it’s going to go now.”
My heart stammers in my chest, making me tense under him, suddenly worried that he’s actually going to stab me. “A-are you—”
He snorts. “Calm down. Just breathe with me. You’re fine.
” One hand runs down my side until he can hold on to my hip again.
I move, arching my hips, and feel his arousal through his jeans again, though he doesn’t seem like he’s planning on doing anything about it.
Like making me come was really all he came here to do.
“I’m going to put my mask on, then I’m going to un-cuff you. But you are not going to get up and start something with me. Okay? You’re going to count to fifty once you can’t hear my footsteps anymore, and then you’re going to get up and go home.”
That’s not what I expected him to say. I want to argue with him. I want to see his damn face. But he still has a knife, and I don’t trust him. Especially not when what I want is clearly opposed to the plan he’s put in place.
“Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I say automatically.
“Good girl.” His weight vanishes and I hear his boots in the dirt a moment later.
There’s a sound like him searching the table for something, before he huffs and moves back.
A second later, the light from my phone moves, and when I follow it, I see that he’s holding it in one hand, and peering at a little keyring held up close to his wolf-skull mask with the other.
“It is a cool mask,” I observe begrudgingly, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“I’m glad you like it. You’re the reason I went to so much effort to get something unique.” He puts the phone down near my face, making I look away and squint from the bright light. My hands sag a second later, free from the cuffs, but he grabs them with one hand, squeezing my wrists.
“Don’t get up,” my stalker warns, and I can feel his eyes on my face. “Don’t make me do something you won’t like.”
I nod in response, pretty sure he can see thanks to the bright white light so close to my face. He squeezes lightly, then lets go, and I can hear his steps move toward the door as a low whistle fills the barn with its sagging, creaky walls.
“Wait?” I sit up, the word a question, though I don’t make any move to get off the table or grab my phone.
Unexpectedly, he waits, though I definitely didn’t expect him to.
“What color are your eyes?”
The silence stretches between us, just as heavy as the darkness.
For a few long moments, I’m sure I’ve pissed him off and that he’s going to rush back over here to stab me.
Before I can come up with an escape plan, however, his voice breaks the silence, sounding almost surprised as he says, “Green.”
I nod, even though he’s not looking at me. “Thank you.”
The silence continues, and his stillness, but then I see the silhouette of him shaking himself, and when he starts walking again, his steps are a little slower, like he doesn’t quite want to leave.
“Good night, Scaredy Cat,” my stalker calls over his shoulder once he reaches the barn doors.
“And remember, don’t go anywhere until you count to fifty for me. ”
“I…I won’t,” I make myself say. “Scouts’ honor.” That earns me a snort, and seconds later he’s gone, vanishing into the complete darkness outside that also swallows up the sound of his footsteps and prompts me to start my mental countdown before I hop down and make my way to my car.