Page 55 of Pretty Little Psycho

He doesn’t respond while he drags the tip of the knife down my belly, careful not to break the skin. He cuts through my skirt and flings it to the cement floor. I’m shivering now despite the humidity. Am I going into shock?

He grunts as he slices through the fabric of my panties, tearing them to shreds. “I want you all to bear witness,” he addresses the room, “to the claiming of Maureen Blackwell. She belongs to Atlas and Valentin and me. You may look but never touch. Her blood has cursed us. But that ends soon.”

Oh, fuck. Is he really going to kill me?

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Riot… please.”

He strokes my cheek. “Shh. Relax.” He leans down and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to cum so fucking hard.”

My traitorous clit spasms. “What are you going to do?”

“Feast on you in this sacred place. Your tears and cum will spill onto this altar. I’m going to have my pussy and eat it too.”

I shudder as he pulls back the tender flesh, exposing me to the entire room. “If a single one of you initiates touch my pussy, I will kill you. If any one of you sees someone touch my pussy and you don’t kill them, I will kill you after I kill them. Understood?”

A collective murmur of agreement breaks out in the room. What the actual fuck is happening to me?

Riot traces his thumb in circles around my clit, and I buck. “That’s a good little slut. Open up. Show them how bad you want to cum for me.”

I can’t control it. Every touch from him sends my body into a state of ecstasy. I try to stifle a moan, but I choke, and it turns into a wail.

He leans over and licks the length of my entrance from taint to nub. “Mmm, taste that sweet cunt,” he grits out while beckoning for Valentin and Atlas.

I’m unraveling, unafraid of them watching me now. In fact, it’s starting to turn me on. I can’t help it. The ache in my swollen nub festers as Valentin and Atlas take turns thrusting their tongues inside me. I rock toward it as much as my restraints will let me.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper as Valentin and Atlas’s dive in together, their tongues entering me at the same time. They kiss each other passionately while they devour my pussy, their tongues crossing and twirling feverishly as they lap up my juices and each other’s saliva.

Riot eyes me like a hungry wolf. “For the raven,” he mutters. “The Blackwells may have cursed us but now we have one of theirs.”

He grabs the knife and slices it into his own hand. He holds his open wound over my body and lets the blood splatter against my breasts. “This is my offering. My sacrifice. You are ours, Firecracker. Our light. And we are the darkness.” He smears the blood on my chest. “In absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt. In the absence of light, darkness prevails.”

Valentin takes the knife and does the same thing. “Mors tua, vita mea. Your death, my life,” he murmurs with my juices still dripping from his lips.

I’m covered in blood and about to cum just as Atlas follows suit by cutting his hand and holding his open wound over my chest. “Mors vincit omnia. Death always wins.”

A buzz thrums in the room like a pulse. The stone altar is suddenly hot against my flesh. I glance between them to see their eyes glowing. My core spasms like it’s been jolted with electricity. Fuck. I grind my hips against the stone as something deeply carnal comes over me. What is happening?

The initiates begin to chant so loud my ears ring. Fuck. I want it to stop but the three of them are touching me again. Their fingers pinch my nipples and circle my nub. I close my eyes and surrender. I don’t want to fight it. It feels too good.

An orgasm tears through me as the humming gets louder. I feel like my ears will explode at any moment. But I don’t care. I open my mouth and scream as an onslaught of spasms grip my core. “Uhhh,” I moan over and over again. I can’t stop. Their hands move faster, pressing harder on every erogenous part of me. Everything is a blur. My back is raw from rubbing against the stone altar. I don’t stop, though. I need to keep chasing this high. I can’t get enough.

And right when I think I’m going to die, Riot kisses me hard on the lips. He kisses me like he cares. Like he wants me… like he needs me. I kiss him back and lose myself in his breath.

It’s dark when I come to. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. I’m not in the altar room but in a bedroom, wrapped in soft sheets. My body aches. Every muscle hurts to move. But I roll over and see Riot’s back. It’s covered in markings. They’re not like tattoos, but raised, scarred, symbols that almost look like they’re alive.

By the way he breathes, I can tell he’s awake. “Why did you bring me here?” I whisper in the dark.

“I told you last night. To show you what we are,” he mutters.

I want to reach out and caress his back. But I don’t because it’s quiet and peaceful, and I don’t want to disrupt it.

“No, I mean here. In your bed. Why did you bring me here?” I ask.

The silence is so loud it’s deafening. It goes on for what seems like an agonizing amount of time. Endless quiet as the tension between us begins to climb and then seemingly fizzles out.

He turns onto his back and glares at the ceiling. “You’re mine. You sleep in my bed.”

My heart flutters for a moment. His voice is soft and achingly beautiful. “I thought you said I belong to all three of you…”

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