Chapter Fifteen
Ava
Panic ensues when I realize I shouldn’t have ran. I have a damn knife for fuck sake. I grip it harder and hide it behind my back aligning flush with the door. The sound of clanking metal jingles, rattling my eardrums. I squeeze the hilt, repositioning the sweaty metal.
He paces around a bookcase with an ease in his step, swinging a set of keys and his pocket watch from his chain. The loops of it twirl and release around his wrist over and over as he sulks closer.
He stops and leers a smirk on the side of his mouth, “Why are you running?” He asks, halting the chain around his wrist. “And they say I’m always in a hurry.” He releases the chain and clock into the swinging motion again. The blade quivers as his polite and warming voice lures me, melting my senses.
The shadows of the tree's branches are like sharp daggers, streaking across him. He changed his clothes, but you couldn’t tell if you didn’t see the blood all over him earlier.
Does he have anything that isn’t black or anything that doesn’t outline every muscle on his body?
I inhale, tightening my fingers on the hilt, “You…you just startled me, that was all.”
“No… No, I don't think you are scared.” The chain halts around his fingers as he stops his slow steps, “or maybe you are, but I think you are hiding something.”
“I– I couldn’t sleep, so I went to find the kitchen and found this room.” Shifting my weight, I glance around him, “It’s amazing.”
One of his dark eyebrows lifts, questioning me.
I shift my eyes over his defined jawline tensing. “Maybe… maybe you can tell me how to get to the kitchen. I guess I couldn’t find it after all,” I say.
“You know, you shouldn't be here.” He grew closer to me and I feel like I am caught. His body towers over me as he leans one hand inches above my head, trapping me. With his free hand he reaches past my waist, pressing his arm into my side. He unlocks the door, keeping the key in the lock as he lowers his face in front of mine. I can see his stubble that wasn’t there earlier, and my breath hitches a beat.
A strand of his black hair falls to his eye line, “Instead of sneaking around, how about we play a game?” Click. He locks it back. The chain swings to his side as he pockets the watch and keys, along with my hope of leaving anytime soon.
I lean into him and chuckle with a gulp, “I’ll win. Are you sure?” I joke, grasping for my revenge. I strain my neck, looking up at him.
“I always win, and I always get what I want. So, if you would stop that fucking sass that seeps out of your mouth.”
“Or what?” I whisper, catching my uneven breath. I squint my eyes and lower my head.
He lifts my chin, “Then it will be my cum dripping out of those pretty lips of yours and not that fucking attitude.” His low voice rumbles, heating my lower body. He brushes his thumb over my lips, back and forth, as he holds my cheek, and I can’t help but to slightly part my mouth. Pushing past my lips, he plunges two of his fingers. I tug my head back, but he drives them further in, pinning my head against the door. I stop fighting him and swirl my tongue around, mellowing my eyes. He tilts his head searching for sass from me, but I give him a small smile.
I bite down and sprint past him with a shove. I can hear him laugh as I clutch the knife to my chest, weaving between the first set of bookshelves. Pressing my elbow in, I try to keep the photo album from slipping as I pump with my other arm, gaining momentum.
“Let the games begin, Cottontail!” I hear him shout manically.