Page 3 of House of Lies

Again. Harder.

She blubbers out something incoherent, trying to close her legs.

I pull my fingers out and drag them over her mouth, smearing her lipstick. “Don’t tell me you don’t want it. Not when you’re so fucking wet.”

Her lips tremble against my fingers. “No-no, please!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess.” I grab her dress and use my knife to shear it in two.

It happens so quickly that she’s still gasping and fumbling to hide her nakedness when I rip the fabric away from her with a jerk of my hand.

Now all she’s wearing are her pretty little panties…and the fur coat.

That’s when she screams again.

I shear off her underwear next, and hold the knife against her throat as I unbuckle my belt. As I kick her feet apart. As I slap her pussy and smear her arousal over my cock, so fucking her won’t feel like sticking my dick in a sandpaper sock.

“Wait, wait, wait!” she yells, slapping at me despite the tip of the knife dimpling the skin beneath her jaw. “Please! S-stop!”

The terror in her voice is blatant in each shaking consonant. I pause, soaking in the sight of her.

Mascara streaks down her face. Smudged lipstick. Disheveled hair.

I trail the knife down her body, her stomach flattening in panic the lower I go. My other hand has a stranglehold on my cock, a white-knuckled fist moving slowly down the shaft. When the metal blade scrapes through the patch of curls above the woman’s pussy, a sob bursts out of her.

“The D-Devil made me d-do it!” she stammers.

My head is still down, only my eyes flicking up to look at her. “What did you say?”

She licks her lips, hands slowly going to cover her breasts. There’s a little more power to her voice when she says, “The Devil made me do it.”

I tilt my head at her. Releasing my cock, move the knife aside and replace it with my fingers, dragging them through her soaked pussy. “Are you sure?”

Her jaw trembles, lips parting as I touch a thumb against her clit, then she gives me a quick, hard nod. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

I step back, wrestling my cock into my jeans. I study her for a moment, flipping the knife in one hand, catching it by the handle. Then I use it to point out of the alleyway.

“Then you’d better run, Princess, and hope I don’t catch you. Because if I do, even the Devil can’t protect you.”

She doesn’t wait. Gripping her coat closed against her naked body, the woman sidles around me and bolts out of the alleyway, her hair flying. There’s a faint sob just before she rounds the corner and disappears from sight.

I toss my knife again, shaking my head, and then fling it into the wall, where it slices into the plaster with a thud.

“Fucking socialites,” I mutter, pulling my clothing straight and ripping the knife out of the wall.

I leave the alleyway wearing a scowl, not bothering to collect the woman’s things.

There’s people for that.

Chapter 2

Cassidy

I slip through my apartment’s front door, drop my purse on the floor, and almost fall down right beside it. But I will myself to lock the door and draw the dead bolt. I take off my scarf and coat and head straight for the sofa instead, with every intention of collapsing on it.

I’d have made it if my dragging feet hadn’t caught on the edge of a cardboard box, tripping me and sending me tumbling into the coffee table before I bounce off and land on the floor.

Should have collapsed by the door. Might have ended up with fewer bruises.

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