Page 11 of Toxic Things I Love About You

His lips were next to my ear, and I’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Fucking follow the rules and I’ll give you more soon.”

I practically melted against him.

Instead of getting more, he pulled away and all I could do was try to stand on my own power as I watched him lick his finger.

“You understand, Butterfly? You are mine.”

I straightened the shirt and cleared my throat, pretending I wasn’t at all affected.

“Well, that is certainly a better proposal than the marriage one was, I suppose.”

I swear I could see a new wrinkle appearing around his eyes, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I liked that I could get to him.

He reached for the keypad and pushed in the code. Next, he did the little biometric finger thing, and I was busy trying to squeeze my legs tight, pretending like I wasn’t ready to come just from walking.

The darkness greeted us as he pulled the door open, and the fresh scent of blood and bodily fluids wafted out. He waited for me, holding his hand out.

“No guns this time, Emilee. I want you to make him suffer.”

My heart melted.

“Romy-poo,” I said as I took his hand. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

He smirked and pulled me into him as we stepped into the room together.

My heels clicked and clacked, and something jingled.

“He isn’t passed out?”

We got closer to the single light bulb and a new hunger grew inside me.

“He’s chained to a chair? How fun! Is it harder to cut a body when it’s not all stretched out like a punching bag?”

We stopped at the table, and Roman shrugged.

“He’s awake, untouched. Unfazed just for you. I can hang him from the ceiling if you prefer. But he will be less tired, having been like this for the better part of the evening.”

He held up a smaller knife, and I took it.

“He’ll live much longer if you start with this. No stabbing anything above the waist for now.”

The little knife weighed almost nothing. The only reminder it was there was the cold metal in my hand as I closed the space between me and the guy. His chest seemed to be moving twice as fast as it should have been. His eyes bugged out of his head, and his nose flared. Muffled protests told me this might be a fun new experience.

“Do I know you?” I asked, walking around him like he was there for a little show rather than to donate his soul to my little collection.

“I think you look familiar. Do you ever wonder if we all have souls? Do you think that yours is black or white or what about pink?”

I studied him as I knelt down in front. I tried to be conscious of the fact Roman would be pissed if I flashed this guy, but there was only so much I cared about.

“I think your soul would be icky poop brown. You’re not very smart, are you? Sad.”

It was obvious the guy’s hands were well clamped down to the metal chair. I followed the arms of the chair down to his legs and to the floor. The chair was bolted down, and the guy’s legs secured just as well.

His nostrils were still flaring, and his eyes seemed to follow my own wandering gaze.

“Kinky, isn’t it?” I said.

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