Chapter Twenty #2
“Asshole. I swear to God, if that’s not you, Jonesy, I’m going to haunt you for letting me get murdered in your apartment!
” she screams out. I don’t even need the microphones I placed around the room; the girl is loud.
I mean, I knew that already, given how many arguments we’ve gotten into over the years, and the way she cries out when I fuck her.
But still, this hasn’t been discussed at all, and the she-devil is still ready to go down fighting.
I text her from my real phone.
Jonesy: Sorry, just getting in my car now. Another five minutes. Help yourself to anything.
Katie: I’ll help myself to your kitchen knife if that’s not you in the bedroom.
Jonesy: What are you talking about?
Three little dots appear and quickly disappear. I don’t want her to actually get the kitchen knife, but it does give me an idea. Nothing like a little danger-foreplay until someone gets a bit stabby.
I use the opportunity to set the record straight.
I pull down my mask. I got one that glows, Xs over the eyes, lips sewn shut—it’s terrifying in the dark.
I’ve got my boots on too, and I take my sweet ass time as I thud down the long hallway.
Her little breaths become more and more erratic the closer I get.
I can just about see her, the red glow of the mask working surprisingly well to light up the otherwise pitch-black room.
I have a dark hoodie on with no T-shirt underneath.
I pull the hood up over my head; my leather gloves and black sweats are on.
I look the part. I did some sleuthing on a certain app over the weekend, eager to bring to life the fantasy for Katie.
Masked men are a real kink, and I am leaning into it hard.
I practiced my moves in the mirror, not that I’ll admit that to her.
As of now, I’m standing in the middle of my living room, creepily tilting my head to one side.
Her scream pierces my ears as she jumps up from behind the couch, launching a couch cushion at my head with scary precision. The woman could have been a dart thrower in another life, as it causes the metal zipper to cut into my chest.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
She runs at me, bravely or stupidly, and pummels my chest until I grab her wrists in one hand, holding them high above her head. The movement causes her shirt to rise and her tits to stick out into my chest. As I lean down, my masked nose to her nose, I say, “That wasn’t very nice now, was it?”
The lavender of her perfume invades my senses, making me feel delirious as it mixes with the scent of salt, fear, and adrenaline pumping out her fight-or-flight receptors.
She whimpers, pupils dilating into hungry black pools of pure lust. A sheen of sweat coats her forehead.
The fear is real, but her arousal is too.
I shove her down onto the couch before climbing on top of her so I'm straddling her.
Pulling the tape out of my back pocket, I grab her wrists again, pulling them roughly up.
A small whimper escapes her, and a hint of doubt sneaks in. She knows her colors; she knows it’s me. She hasn’t even tried to stop me.
I wrap the duct tape around her wrists a few times.
“You get off on this?” she spits. “Pathetic.”
With my free hand, I pinch her cheeks. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll give you something better to do with your mouth.”
“I’ll bite it off.”
“You’ll be begging to suck me off by the time this is all over, princess.”
I can’t help but use her nickname. A small reassurance that it's me, despite the voice modifier I’m using.
An unsteady breath escapes her, and her shoulders visibly relax. Enough of that.
I jump off her, then pull her off the couch by her wrists so her ass smacks hard on the floor. My neighbors are gonna be bitching and moaning, but honestly, I couldn’t care less right now.
I drag her across the room as she kicks and screams. Once she’s in the middle of the room, I straddle her, crouching down as I push my hand into her sternum.
She quietens immediately.
“Are you gonna be quiet? Or am I going to have to tape your mouth too?”
Her lips part, her brows scrunching. I run my palm up the valley of her breasts and up to her throat. I squeeze the sides, pulling her head up. “Answer, or I’ll make the decision for you.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses.
“Tape it is.”
“Orange!”
I pause . . . shit. She stills, her eyes pleading. The thumping in my chest feels so loud I’m surprised she can’t hear it. I need this to be good for her, but this is the first time we’ve stepped over into something she doesn’t want. Pride fills my chest that she’s using her safe word.
“Change of plans, princess. I want to hear you moaning when I eventually fuck you. Can’t do that if you’re taped shut now, can I?”
She shakes her head, letting out a low breath.
“Green.”
“Good girl. I knew you’d be so easy to take. Too bad your little boyfriend isn’t around to watch. Do you think he’d like to watch you get fucked?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snaps.
And that’s when I lose it. Not her boyfriend? Sure, okay. I only know her deepest, darkest fantasies that she couldn’t tell anyone else, but yeah, being her boyfriend is what’s un-fucking-realistic in this scenario.
She senses the shift in my mood as I lift off from her.
“Wait . . . I didn—ahhh.”
I drag her again by her wrists along the hallway and into my bedroom.
I’d installed a neon light to use for nights like this, the red glow seeping an indecent light onto the silk bedsheets I’d ordered. They looked almost liquid. So when I lift her up and throw her onto the bed, she practically slides up toward the pillows.
Her legs kick as she tries to scramble out of reach, but the best thing about silk sheets is that there's no traction. I grab an ankle and slide her back to me like butter spreads across toast. Like she was made for it.
I grab her boots, pulling them off and throwing them over my shoulder one by one. I crawl on top of her next, clipping the handcuff around the tape between her wrists. It won’t leave marks on her, not this time, but she’s mine for the taking now.
Her breathing is heavy, and as I slide down the zipper to her jeans, she gives a halfhearted attempt to stop me.
“Please don’t do this,” she whimpers.
I ignore her, pulling down her jeans, revealing her black lace thong.
Goddamn perfect. I hold her legs down, spread wide, dipping my masked face between her legs, taking a long smell of her soaked cunt.
Jesus, I can smell her fear, her arousal.
Everything she wants and has been too afraid to ask for.
“I told you you’ll beg for me by the end of this.”
I jump off her, heading to the kitchen to get what I didn’t have on hand last time.
“You can’t fucking leave me here like this, you little shit!” she cries out, the clink of the handcuffs rattling against my headboard.
When I return to the room, I lean against the doorframe, playing with the knife, the pointy end balancing against the pad of my finger as I tilt my head.
“Oh shit,” she murmurs, her eyes dropping to the knife and back up to my mask.
She knows her colors. She just used it for the tape. But she says nothing. She wants to see how far I can take her.
“Yeah, princess. You’re going to have to be very, very still for this.
” I take the blunt edge of the knife, scraping it between her breasts and down her stomach.
She’s still clothed for now. Her shirt was inching up after I threw her onto the bed.
I place the knife next to her, just out of reach.
I slide my gloved hands up her torso, settling between her breasts where the fabric stretches taut.
Slipping my fingers between the buttons, I tilt my head one more time.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she warns.
She can’t see my grin, but I wish she could.
I rip the fabric apart, buttons flying in all directions, and for a split second, her mouth parts in disbelief before she starts spewing utterly vile words from that pretty little mouth of hers.
I push the fabric away, admiring the plush, pillowy breasts laid out before me.
She’s a vision. A vile, demonic vision that I can’t get enough of.
I lift my mask a few inches so I can lap my tongue over the swell of her tits before biting down hard.
Her onslaught of insults pauses for a moment as she lifts her cunt up toward my cock.
I can feel her. God knows I can feel her.
My cock wants in, and he’s doing everything he can to make this situation as painful as possible until I finally slide home.
“Better. You’re so pretty when you’re quiet.”
“I will scream this place down so loud you’ll have to move, you piece of shit.”
I hold my gloved hand against her mouth, lifting a finger to my masked lips before picking up the knife. I trail the glinting blade blunt side down between the valley of her breasts. Her chest heaves, and she whimpers against my hand.
“Are you going to be quiet, princess?”
She nods aggressively against my hand.
I ease up my grip on her face, and her lips part, sucking in a deep breath. As she agreed, she stays quiet for now.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispers. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
Her hips roll up, brushing her pussy against my cock, and I allow myself to close my eyes as I roll my head back. She can’t see my face. She can’t see what she does to me. But the devil knows everything, and Katie-she-devil-Murphy is possessed.