Page 14 of Haunt

But he doesn’t speak again, nor bother to repeat himself as he leans in close. I hear the shift of something above me, and I can feel the brush of his arm against my hair as he settles forwardto lean against the shelves behind me. Which, of course, presses the length of his body to mine, an unyielding wall between me and escape.

“Stop,” I whisper, jerking on my hoodie to try to free myself. “Stop,” I say again, stronger this time, and shove against his chest.

Harrow only chuckles. It’s a low, soft sound from behind his mask, and he leans forward until the plastic of his mask brushes my cheek. “But I haven’t even done anything to you yet,” he murmurs in my ear; the words are so soft it feels like he’s telling me some kind of clandestine secret. His voice is deeper than Ravage’s, though I can’t tell much else about it. His hand on my jaw moves, blindly pushing my hair back behind my ear softly, gently.

Like he fuckingcares.

My soft growl of protest only makes him huff a soft chuckle. Without warning, he presses his palm over my mouth, gripping both sides of my jaw and pushing my head back against the shelf behind me. Again I feel the brush of his mask against my face, and I close my eyes at the fearful anticipation that has my stomach twisting with panic and…something I refuse to name.

“I’m not like Rav,” he murmurs. “I don’t get off on you fighting me and making me hurt. In fact”—his fingers flex in warning, tightening painfully on my jaw—“I suggest you do what I say, little girl. I won’t hesitate todisciplineyou if you need to be convinced to behave.”

Fuck.A shudder goes through me that’s not quite from fear, and I whine behind his hand as he pulls back. Again, I jerk against the shelf, ready to wiggle out of my hoodie if that’s what it’ll take to get free. Even though I’m fully aware that my hoodie being stuck is no longer my biggest problem.

Harrow is.

His fingers slide down my jaw, stroking over my neck and causing me to shudder with the memory of how it felt to come with Ravage’s grip so tight I couldn’t breathe. That makes him chuckle, as if heknowswhat I’m thinking, but his hand doesn’t stop. Instead, it disappears, and he leans against me as his hands stroke up my back, dragging my hoodie up with him.

For some reason, I’m more terrified of him than I was of Ravage. He’s just so quiet, and not nearly so playful. This feels moreserious, somehow. Even though this whole damn thing is the epitome of serious and terrifying.

“N-no,” I breathe as his hands move to my front to continue pushing my hoodie up and up. I grip his wrists blindly in the dark, gazing up at where I think his eyes might be behind his mask. “Don’t—” He grabs my sides in a bruising grip, pulling a yelp from my throat, which has him huffing a soft sound of amusement.

When I say nothing else, his grip loosens. All I can bring myself to do is writhe as he drags my hoodie up further, easily tugging it over my head and arms until I’m left in my bra and leggings in the cold closet. Shivering, I flinch when I feel his hands back on my body. He cups my jaw in one hand while the gloved fingers of the other skim the bottom of my bra, tracing the line of it under my breasts.

Trembling, I reach up to grip his wrist at my jaw, somehow less afraid to touch this hand than the other one. “Wait.” The word is out of my mouth before I can help it. “Please, I just—” One handed, he unhooks the clasp of my bra nestled between my cleavage, causing the material to fall to either side before he smoothly pushes it off of my arms to fall to the floor.

The moment I move to cover myself, he shifts to grip my wrists in one hand and pushes them up above my head. The hold is so tight, it feels like my bones are grinding together in his grip as my hands press almost painfully against the shelves.

He doesn’t seem to mind that it’s dark. The fact doesn’t deter him from cupping my breasts in his hand, the slide of leather smooth against my skin. My back arches instinctively, a whine escaping from my lips when his thumb brushes over my nipple.

“I don’t—” His fingers tighten around my wrist, and his hand moves to knead my breast almost painfully. The warning is clear, and I close my eyes hard in the darkness, as if that will change any of this somehow.

He takes his fucking time teasing me. Exploring my bare upper body with his fingers and his palm until I’m quite literally shaking against the shelves, tremors going through my body no matter how much I try to keep myself still. My breathing is the only sound in the darkness of the closet, and I’m glad he can’t see my face.

I’m not sure I’m keeping it together well, and that probably shows very clearly in my expression. At least in the dark I can deny it, and he can’t see how?—

My gasp of surprise is loud in the small space as Harrow shoves me to my knees, his hands on my shoulders to keep me there. Instinctively, I reach up, one hand pressed to his thigh and the other on his wrist like I’m going to dig my nails into his skin. But the moment I even brush my nails against him, he lets out a long, low sigh that is very clear.

Especially when his grip on my shoulder tightens to the point of pain. It’s enough to make me let him go, and I drop my hand like his skin is scalding.

His hands leave my shoulders, but I’m not exactly left confused about what he’s doing. Not when I hear the clink of his belt buckle and the sound of a zipper being pulled down. My stomach twists with dread and I jerk back, as if I can go anywhere at all when I’m basically straddling his boots on my sore knees. The floor under me is hard and unforgiving, and thecold from the concrete is stealing the warmth of my skin, making me shudder.

I flinch when his fingers smooth over my hair, stroking my head like I’m his favorite pet. He’s so relaxed and unhurried in his motions, which somehow makes this worse. At least with Ravage, I had some idea of what he was doing, and tried to use his impatience to my advantage.

It had gone pretty well, if I do say so myself.

But Harrow isdifferent.He’s terrifying in a different way, and I’m so fucking scared of him that I can’t even bring myself to consider hurting him in the ways I’d hurt Ravage.

His fingers twining through my hair pulls me back to the present. Instead of petting me again, he grips my hair, not quite hard enough to hurt as long as I don’t try to yank away. “Please…” I murmur, part of me wishing I could see his face in the dark. At least his eyes behind the mask, but all I can really see from the scant light from the hallway are the outlines of his boots and legs.

Harrow doesn’t acknowledge my pleas. He guides my face closer to him until I feel the tip of his cock slide against my lower lip. I inhale sharply, jerking in his grip, but he holds me completely still with just his hand in my hair, fingers tightening in warning.

At his urging, I open my mouth, lips parted, but he continues to tease me. He presses himself between my lips, just enough for me to feel him on my tongue, before pulling out and letting his cock rest against my lip. My breaths come in anticipatory huffs from my open mouth, and he shudders at the feeling, though his grip doesn’t waver in my hair. He doesn’t pull back whatsoever, and instead slowly thrusts into my mouth once more, until I have to relax my jaw in order to keep my teeth off of him.

I’m pretty sure that would get me in a world of trouble, even without him saying so. He pulls back again, his movements slowand steady and a little teasing. All I can do is wait until he presses back in, deeper this time.

My hand comes up, my fingers hooking over his belt with a soft sound of protest. He doesn’t do anything to retaliate. He doesn’t even seem to mind, so I grip his belt more confidently, a whine building between my lips as he continues to push deeper.

God, he’s fuckingbig.My protesting whine is loud in the darkness as he keeps going, his fingers in my hair are still tight enough I can’t go anywhere or do anything except take it. “Relax,” I hear him murmur when he feels my jolt from his cock brushing the back of my tongue. “Just relax, little girl.” His words are comforting murmurs, but they do nothing to stop the trembling in my thighs or the way I grasp desperately to his belt.

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