Page 16 of Unethical

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you,” he says.

A breath of relief blows out from instinct, but then he pins my wrists above my head. The rough bark rakes the backs of my hands.

“Don’t talk or make a sound. Don’t scream unless it’s from pleasure. If you can’t follow directions, I’ll slit your throat and leave you to bleed out right here.” The words struggle to overpower the frantic beeps blaring from my watch.

I nod and he removes his hand from my mouth before turning his attention to my leggings. He bunches the slick material in a tight grasp before ripping the fabric down my thighs. When I consider screaming and begging him to stop, his threats silence me.

His hand lands at the juncture between my legs and before I can even react, two of his fingers plunge inside me. I gasp and release a silent cry, but his threat tightens my throat and keeps me from screaming. He pulls his fingers from me and then plunges back inside again. And again. He continues this onslaught until my eyes roll back against my will.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls.

His words get to me. His touch gets to me. He fucks me with his fingers and then draws out to swirl my clit before pushing inside me again. A rebellious moan escapes my lips, and I can almost sense his smirk beneath that mask.

“Are you enjoying a masked stranger fucking your sweet, innocent cunt? You’re a bad girl.” His muffled words are like delicate strings, and they pull tight until my pelvis curls andpushes my heat against his palm. He grinds the meat of his hand against me as he moves his fingers inside me.

Guilt swarms me like bees. Each stinging thought stabs into me with a jolt.

This feels so good.

This is so wrong.

I’m going to come.

I’m going to come to a psychopath’s touch.

In the back of my mind, I know something more will follow this. Masked rapists don’t just make their victims come before running off into the woods.

Just enjoy this moment, I tell myself.When was the last time someone touched you? Wanted you? When was the last time you didn’t feel so alone?

I buck my hips against him, gyrating my pelvis to chase the sort of orgasm I haven’t experienced in a long time. I snatch hold of that pleasure and selfishly ride it until my muscles contract at a dizzying pace and a wave of warmth rushes my brain. As his erection presses against the inside of my thigh, I spasm around his hand and scream out.

“You’re coming for me? Dirty fucking girl,” he says, his low, gravelly voice hidden behind the rubber.

As the orgasm wanes, I suck in air and lean against the tree. He pulls his hand from me and lifts his mask enough to slip his fingers beneath. Then he does something that sends another jolt of heat through my core.

He licks and sucks me off his fingers.

A low groan mixes with the wet sounds of his mouth as he tastes me. Then, without saying another word, he struts away from me with the confidence of someone deranged.

Once he’s out of sight, my legs find the strength to run again. I mentally note every feature I can think of in case I call the police, but what would I even say to them? A mentally ill manin a mask just cornered me in the woods and fingered me until I came?

Jesus Christ, I wouldn’t believe me, so how could I expect anyone else to?

I race into my house, lock the door behind me and, with an uncomfortable wetness between my legs, continue thinking about that man’s fingers inside me.

I’ve been assaulted.

I was attacked.

But why was the attack so one-sided?

And will it happen again?

Chapter Fifteen

Maxim

My knee fucking hurts. She got me good. I’ll admit that. But I couldn’t let her go once I had her in my grasp and could smell the scent of her desperation or hear the sound of her fear.

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