Page 69 of Hunting Pretty

I wanted to be angry. To scream and curse and hurl threats at him.

Instead, my glare broke all too quickly, my sobs shaking with unreleased pressure, with anticipation.

He brushed his thumb across my cheeks so tenderly, it startled me. But his voice rattled with menace. “You look so beautiful when you cry.”

Something snapped in me as he traced the handle along my slit. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“Please, no.” My cries stopped as a strange vibration fell over me as he teased my clit and pushed back my folds.

I felt almost disconnected from my body. What washappening to me? Why couldn’t I move? Why couldn’t I stop it?

All I could do was watch as he eased the thick handle inside me.

I shuddered with fear. With… illicitwant.

“Fuck, baby doll, you’re so tight. I can barely get this knife in.”

Slowly, he pushed, filling me. Spreading my pussy open. Until the smooth handle was in all the way to the hilt.

To my horror, a thread of pleasure shot through my tense muscles.

He began to pull that knife in and out of my pussy like he was fucking me with it.

My body clenched, muscles fluttering around the handle, like it was welcoming it. Asking for more.

I heard a moan and snapped my mouth closed when I realized it was coming from me.

He chuckled and the noise felt like it vibrated all the way down my spine. “You might not think you want it. But your body doesn’t lie. You’re soaking the sheets.”

I couldn’t deny it. Not even to myself. The wet sounds of the handle going into and out of my pussy filled the room, the sucking and slurping noise betraying just how wet I was.

What was wrong with me? How could my body betray me like this?

“You’ve already given your body to me, little doll,” he growled. “This pussy ismine.”

“No,” I whimpered even as I thrust my hips up for more.

My inner thighs twitched and my toes curled. Heat pooled in my lower stomach. I wantedmoreof him.

I wantedhim.

I wanted his cock.

God. The thought nearly made me sick.

“Look at the way you run straight into danger,” he mocked. “See the way fear turns you on.”

I hated myself as I felt my orgasm gathering, rising like a wave. “You’re sick.”

“No, pretty doll.” He leaned over me, the rough coolness of his leather jacket rubbing against my sensitive nipples as he fucked me with the knife handle. “Weare sick. You and I are cut from the same dark cloth.”

My gaze dropped to his lips.

What would it feel like to kiss him? To accept the darkness, repressed and coiled inside of me. To become the devil’s mistress?

“No,” I whispered, lips a hair’s breadth from his.

He grinned. “The way your sweet cunt is milking my blade saysyes.”

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