“When have you ever?”
“True that.” He steps toward me and I take several back as his voice lowers, deepens, and crowds with tension. “I won’t give you a head start.”
Not thinking about the consequences of my choice, I run. All I know is that this option is better than a game of death.
The adrenaline from earlier rushes through my limbs and I climb the stairs that lead to the first floor. At first, I don’t hear him, and I think maybe I’m faster due to the superhuman energy that I gained tonight.
But then a thud of steps follows after me and I shriek when I feel his overwhelming presence behind me. I grab a fake plant and throw it at him.
But he dodges it and the pot crashes to the floor.
Blimey!
If I stay in the house, I’m going to get myself trapped. In a snap decision, I slip from between the stairs’ wide railings and jump.
My legs take a hit, but it barely hurts under the circumstances. I roll down on the ground, then leap to my feet and sprint without looking back.
I pause at the threshold of the kitchen door, casting a glance at where I threw the gun.
Only, it’s not there.
I don’t hear any footsteps or sounds.
The next second, a fistful of my hair is grabbed from behind. I shriek, clutching his hand to stop him from tearing at my scalp.
“Caught you.” His hotly murmured words drive me into a state of madness.
I claw at his skin, kick, and bite. Or try to. Most of my attempts end up an epic failure.
He’s a beast who’s come out to play and I’m his prey of choice.
He shoves me against the porch railing, pressing my stomach into the wood.
My hair nearly rips out from the savage hold he has on me and I can feel him bending down behind me.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of him grabbing a shard of glass. Before I can panic, he releases my hair, grasps a fistful of my jeans, and cuts them from behind.
Crimson red explodes on his palm from the glass and drips all over my thighs—warm, dark red, and absolutely fucked up.
But he doesn’t seem to care about that as he shreds my shirt, bra, and underwear so that I’m standing there completely naked.
Then he spins me around to face him and switches the red piece of glass from his injured palm to the other one.
I watch in stunned shock as he slides his bloodied fingers from my hip to my stomach, my breasts, coating them in red before he wraps them around my throat.
My eyes bulge even though he’s not exerting force. “W-what…”
“Shh.” He runs the shard of glass over the tip of my nipple. “Are you scared?”
I nod. Scared is an epic understatement. This man is crazy. The calm type of crazy, which is the most dangerous type.
“Good. I love how your cunt feels when you’re scared. It tightens and swallows my cock like my favorite slut, but first…” He releases my throat and reaches in his waistband, then pulls out his gun. The same gun I threw away earlier. “We’re not done.”
He slides it in his mouth, licks it, and I gasp when he glides it between my inner thighs, over my folds, and then drives it inside my pussy.
I’m soaking wet from the chase, from how he savagely caught me and shred my clothes off me, but I’m not ready for a gun inside me.
The metal feels cold as it’s swallowed by my walls, but then he thrusts it in, and I get on my tiptoes.
A carnal sensation grips hold of me the more he rams the weapon inside me. My skin tightens, my thighs clench, and my nipples pucker and stiffen.
I’m being fucked by a gun.
Holy. Shit.
Does he really want to kill me?
And why am I getting wetter and slicker?
I can’t stop staring at his punishing eyes, at the sheer power they exude without him having to say a word.
It’s like I’m caught in a trance no one can save me from.
“You pretend to be all righteous and morally superior, but you’re nothing but a greedy little whore.” He slides the gun inside. “Is this how you’ll milk my cock, too? It’s bigger, but you’ll fit me, won’t you? You’ll swallow and take every inch of me.”
A whimper rips out of my throat.
It’s weird how I never liked anything sex-related before, but I’m enjoying how he blows my world to pieces in the most unconventional ways. How he speaks to me in that crude manner.
The man has a gun inside me and a shard of glass to my nipple that he turned red with his blood, and I can’t stop wanting him.
“Say my name,” he orders, the command nonnegotiable.
“Jeremy,” I moan, ready to tell him anything right now.
“Say you wanted me that first time, not some other fucker, me.”
The words get stuck at the back of my throat. I’m not sure I can admit that part. I can’t even admit it to myself after all this time.
Jeremy’s expression darkens. “So while I chased you, feasted on your blood, and fucked you to oblivion, he was the one you were thinking about?”
Who’s he?
I still shake my head, because I don’t like the way his lashes fall over his eyes, shuttering over his expression and sealing him away.
A click sounds in the air. From the gun. He pulled the trigger.
Holy hell.
I’m not sure how it happens or why, but a strong wave washes over me. It’s life, I realize, that rush of breaths after believing I could’ve died.
Jeremy throws the shard of glass aside, unbuttons his jeans, and fists his hard, pulsating cock.
“My turn.” He wrenches the gun from inside me and slides it in his mouth.
The same gun that’s all messed up with my arousal is now between his lips as he licks it clean. Then, the crazy bastard places it against his temple.
“Beg me to fuck you.”
A whole-body shiver goes through me. “If I do, will you stop playing with the gun?”
“I wasn’t asking, Cecily, and this isn’t a fucking negotiation. Beg me to ram my cock inside you and fuck you like you want—rough and out of control.”
I can’t stop staring at the gun shoved up against his head. There’s a fifty percent chance that he’s going to get himself killed.
That might seem like a good percentage, but it’s not. Far from it. One can be lucky for only so long before he vanishes, just like that.
“Please,” I murmur.
He jerks himself up and down in a brutal rhythm that makes my mouth dry. “Please what?”
“Please take me.”
“It’s fuck, not take. Say it properly.”
I bite my lower lip. “Please fuck me.”
The word is barely out when he digs his fingers into the flesh of my outer thigh, lifts my leg, and drives inside me.
My whole body convulses as I fall into his chest, my heart pounding while his remains the same—eternal, unaffected, absolutely cold.
It’s been some time since he was inside me, and I feel his size with every motion and every thrust.
“You’re mine, not anyone else’s, fucking mine. Now, beg and say my name.”
“Please, Jeremy, please.”