Page 49 of Mayhem and Minnie

“Minnie,” I say her name, my voice harsh.

“Yes?” she asks innocently.

She grabs onto my side and moves her entire body on top of me, resting her head on my chest and regarding me from beneath her lashes.

Which she flutters.

Repeatedly.

I narrow my eyes at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” I grit out.

She gives me a smile as she continues to flutter her lashes.

She’s on top of me. Her body is flush against mine.

She’s wet. So am I.

The white shirt she’s wearing is almost transparent at this point, and I can make out the shape of her ass as she wiggles on top of me.

Fucking hell.

I must be going mad because for a moment, I can’t tear my eyes from that sight.

Just for a moment.

I shake myself and grab her. In the span of a few seconds, our positions are reversed. She’s on her back and I’m on top of her. This time, my hand is around her throat as it should have been from the beginning. My fingers massage her pulse before I start applying pressure.

But she doesn’t react.

If anything, she keeps looking at me with a mix of curiosity and innocence. Good grief, does she not recognize the danger she’s in? Does she not realize that in less than one second I could snap her slender neck with barely any effort?

She keeps staring at me.

Deeply. Penetrating.

Her eyes on mine.

She doesn’t blink, nor move.

She just stares.

As if one look from her could communicate what words cannot.

They’re dark, her eyes. So, so dark. Even with the light reflecting from above, they’re like two bottomless pits of tar.

As if following her cue, my eyes, too, don’t move.

I don’t blink, nor move.

I stay like that, with my hand around her throat and with my eyes on hers.

Everything blurs in the background until there’s only one perpendicular line of contact, from my irises to hers. As if there’s a whole other world behind our retinas—one that seeks to speak and to be listened to.

Even my breathing slows down until I’m not sure if I’m breathing at all anymore.

There’s something unnatural about my stillness—about the fact that I can’t bring myself to tighten my hold over her lovely neck and kill her once and for all.

---