Page 2 of House of Lies

My nose is filled with the scent of her. Perfume, hair products, leather, a touch of perspiration. When I shove her face-first against the plastered wall that makes up the back of some or other warehouse or packing plant, her gasp is both outraged and terrified.

Entitled.

Always so fucking entitled.

I flip her around and fist her mink coat just below her throat, keeping her in place. She grabs my wrist with both hands, but just holds on, staring up at me with glassy eyes. The fight’s gone out of her, at least for now.

She glances at the alleyway’s entrance as if begging someone to wander by and help.

Stooping to put us at eye level, I grab her chin hard enough to make her whimper, and murmur, “No one’s coming to save you, Princess. It’s just you and me.”

“P-Please—” she blurts through trembling lips “—I—I have money. You can have it. All of it.” She tries to open her purse, but I drag it down her arm and toss it behind me without even looking.

Her face pales when I let out a dark chuckle. “Think I need your motherfucking permission, Princess?” I switch my grip to her throat, pinning her easily against the cold plaster wall. “If I want something, I’ll fucking take it.”

“P-Please!” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes. “I have more. Lots more. As much as you want. Just don’t—don’t?—”

Her eyes squeeze closed when I lean in.

“Don’t what?”

I inhale her fear, my cock hardening painfully inside my jeans at the intoxicating scent. She mewls wordlessly when I lick the side of her face, trying to turn away, but held in place by the large, veiny hand around her throat.

How careful I have to be not to snap her neck.

Yet.

“Don’t…hurt you?” I murmur into her ear before taking her diamond earring into my mouth and letting it clatter against my teeth. I tug it loose and turn to spit it over my shoulder. She trembles under me, her hands moving to my chest to push me away, fingernails clawing but finding no purchase on my worn leather jacket.

“Don’t…kill you?” I tighten the grip around her throat and drag her until she’s on tiptoes. She wheezes, bashing her small fists against my arm and chest like it’ll somehow convince me to let her go.

I take out my six-inch hunting knife and press the flat of the blade against her cheek.

Her face goes deathly white. Her pupils are wide—too wide.

She must be coked up, and I can smell alcohol on her breath as she pants in fear.

Silly, silly woman. I bet she regrets that last line of cocaine. The too-sweet cocktail. Whatever else she indulged in tonight. Every decision she’s fucking made up to this point.

But it’s too late.

Releasing her throat, I slide my hand down her body, grabbing roughly at her breast. She shoots up to her toes again when I shove my hand between her legs, under the slit skirt of her black, figure-hugging dress. A dress that probably costs several months’s wages for most people.

“Or is this what you’re afraid of, princess?”

I rub my palm over her underwear hard enough to create even more heat between her legs. Her eyes are glued shut again, her lips pressed into a tight, trembling line. I trail the tip of the knife over her jaw, down her throat, between her collarbones. She goes still, only her hips moving from the force as I roughly massage her pussy.

The tip of the knife slices effortlessly through the thin straps holding up her dress, but only once the second strap is sheared through does the bodice begin to sink. I use the tip of the knife to encourage it down even further, exposing her breasts to the warm night air.

There’s barely any light left in the alleyway. A distant street light shines into the corridor, but stops several feet from where I have her pinned to the wall. But there’s enough ambiance for me to see the dark blade against her creamy flesh. To make out her nipples.

She whimpers when I drag the tip of the blade over those hardened buds, and then again when I slip my fingers behind her underwear.

I chuckle when warm arousal coats my fingertips.

“Should have known. The dress, the hair…” I lean in to smell the side of her neck, making her turn her face away with a panicked mewl. “The perfume. You’re out hunting for a man, aren’t you?”

Her gasp when I shove two fingers inside her pussy makes my cock crowd against my jeans, fully erect, painfully confined.

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