Page 19 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I close my eyes tightly, willing my body to relax against hers. Maybe she's one of those psychos who thrives when people are struggling, so if I don't fight back, she might find me boring and finally leave me alone.

I feel her body slightly pulling away from me, but I’m not stupid enough to let my guard down. I opened my eyes to find her staring at me.

“What do you want from me?” my voice became hoarse. “What have I done? Why are you attacking me?”

She cocks her head to the side, making her look innocent. “Attacking you? Angel, I’m trying to worship you.”

I can’t help myself. I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and attempt to twist my body to throw her weight off of me.

However, she immediately anticipates my move, wrapping her legs around my waist and hooking her feet behind my back. She then encircles an arm around my neck and tangles her fingers through my hair. I find myself tangled in a blanket of limbs, unable to move.

“That’s it, angel,” She chuckles, “I love the feeling of your muscular, strong arms caging me in.”

“That’s not — I’m not trying to — Briar!”

“Keep shouting my name, angel. Ugh, has anyone ever told you how fucking yummy you are?” She drops her forehead against mine. Our eyes clash, and she smiles so widely that I just notice the dimples on her cheeks. “Don’t tell me. Because then I may have to find those other bimbos and kill them for tasting you before me.”

“Briar,” I will my voice to be collected. “Let go and get off me. Now.”

“I don’t think so," she murmurs, tightening her arms around my neck with a sigh. "Forgive my sins, angel, for I intend to savor every inch of your delectable body until your deliciousness has thoroughly blessed me.”

For fucks sake.

An inhuman sound vibrates between us, and to my horror, the sound is coming from me. I'm making those strange noises as the tip of her nose trails against my jaw and below my left ear. Then, I feel the tip of her wet tongue tracing circles against the skin of my neck, eliciting a growl from me.

I can’t think.

My mind is so clouded I’m momentarily speechless as my hands clench against her waist.

Fuck. What the hell is happening?

I feel her chest vibrating from her chuckles, and I can’t help but feel something else in my chest other than how my heart is propelling.

Unpleasantness—Yeah, that must be it—not pleasure. I can’t feel anything with this crazy woman unless it’s hatred and disgust.

“This is the last and final time I’m going to ask you, Briar.” I force out. My voice sounds rough. God, I’m going to take a hot shower to wash the scent of her and her warm, sweet-smelling saliva off my skin.

“Ask away, angel,” she murmurs with that grin. “You can have whatever you like.”

She wiggles her hips again, and my fingers dig into her waist to the point that I know should hurt her. She doesn’t seem fazed, though.

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Of. Me.”

“You’re like a broken record,” she sighs as if I were a toddler needing reprimand. “Don’t you have anything new to say?”

Like a rubber band stretched to its limit, I snap. “You’re fucking revolting. I can’t wait until the senator gets rid of the likes of you from society. The moment we’re out of here, I will make your life a living hell.”

All traces of teasing, flirtation, and humor are wiped away from her face.

I swallow hard and hold my breath as she slowly gets off me in one fluid motion, giving me the space I asked for. I can’t help but shiver the moment the cool air envelops me after she takes the warmth with her.

“It’s a good thing we’re in the restroom, angel. You need to shit out that stick that’s deeply stuck far up your ass.”

I let out a cruel laugh that I don’t even recognize in myself, “I guess it's true what they say. You are fucking crazy, you psychotic murderer.”

That finally makes her pause.

Her face is stoic.

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