Page 32 of Haunt Me

“I’m really disappointed in you, little star,” he murmurs, his words making my brow furrow in response. Before I can utter a single word, he continues, his voice tinged with anger.

“I’m not talking about getting drunk—that’s up to you. But I am disappointed that you’d be so reckless and stupid by thinking it would be all sunshine and roses to walk home in the middle of the night, all alone and shit-faced drunk, looking as irresistible as you did in that pretty red dress.” My throat tightens as I gulp,unable to find the right words. I remain speechless, sensing his simmering rage, not wanting to provoke him any further.

“Some men are disgusting predators.” His words echo in the air, causing my heart to pound in my chest.

“I know,” I softly admit, my voice barely audible, my fear palpable.

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m going to teach you a lesson.” My eyes widen, and I quickly turn to face him.

“If you’re going to be a bad little girl, a proper punishment would help prevent you from making the same mistake again, wouldn’t you agree?” he asks, his tone demanding compliance. Before I can respond, he forcefully spins me back around, pressing my back against his chest.

“Hands on the table, baby,” he commands, giving me a gentle push forward. I obediently complied, bending over and placing both hands on the table. His fingers glide over the back of my legs as he lifts the fabric of my diner dress, exposing my bare skin. Goosebumps rise on my arms, his touch sending a wave of anticipation through me.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down until they drop to the ground. My breath catches in my throat as the cool air caresses the intimate area between my legs. Using his foot, he nudges my feet apart, spreading my legs wider. Adrenaline surges through my veins, the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears and without warning, he plunges his fingers into me, eliciting a cry from my lips as I tightly grip the edge of the table.

With a menacing growl, he warns, “Once I’m finished with you—you’ll think twice before doing something stupid.”

My eyes roll to the back of my head as his fingers plunge into me with a voracious intensity, filling the once-silent diner with my passionate moans. A surge of warmth builds inside me, causing my legs to tremble uncontrollably. Just as I teeter on the edge of ecstasy, he abruptly withdraws his fingers. My eyes snap open, and a surge of frustration makes me want to slap him right then and there.

“Oh, I’m sorry—were you about to cum, baby?” he taunts, before forcefully thrusting his fingers back inside me.

A loud moan escapes my lips as I mutter breathlessly, “Fuck.” I slowly start to grind my hips in sync with his fingers, but he abruptly stops me by gripping my hips, holding me in place, unable to move an inch. A frustrated moan escapes my lips, and even without looking at him, I can already picture that snarky grin on his face.

He revels in playing with me like this. His fingers retreat, and when I steal a glance behind me, I see him reaching behind his back. My eyes widen as I behold the large, shiny metal object in his hands. A knife?

Fuck, not again.

He deftly twirls it in his hand, and before I can protest, he spins me around, forcefully pushing me down until my stomach lies flat against the cold surface of the table. Taking quick, shallow breaths, I feel the cool metal grazing my thighs, slowly inching its way toward my core.

“Don’t move, baby—I don’t want to nick your beautiful pussy,” he growls, causing my breath to catch in my throat. He rubs the handle of the knife against my center, teasingly, before gradually inserting it into me. The sensation of the handle is both foreign andexhilarating. He begins with a slow, deliberate pace, pushing it in as deeply as he can, and then slowly dragging it out, filling the room once again with hushed moans. A contented rumble emanates from his chest, intensifying the pleasure as he increases the speed, effortlessly plunging the knife deeper into me.

I wasn’t even aware that getting fucked with a knife was an option.

My breath quickens as the familiar warmth intensifies, building inside me once more. I feel the rush of disappointment wash over me as he removes the knife, leaving me empty and frustrated. The absence of pleasure hits me twice as hard. I turn around, my tear-filled eyes locking onto him. A single tear escapes, threatening to cascade down my cheek.

“What was the fucking point?” I shout, my voice filled with anger, pushing against his chest, but he remains unmoved. Stepping closer, his body presses against mine, and I can sense his hardness through the fabric of his pants. His hooded eyes meet mine, and he whispers, “Your punishment, darling. Only good girls deserve to cum.” Disbelief fills me as I gaze up at him, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

“Consider this a warning,” he warns, his tongue darting out to lick the knife handle before tucking it away. “Next time, I might not be so nice.”

My chest heaves and my cheeks flush as he walks out the door, leaving me in a state of frustration. So, this is it. No pleasure, no satisfaction unless I behave?

That’s fucking inconvenient, to say the least.

Sexual desire didn’t bother me before him. Hell, I never even thought about it. I was a virgin for almost 24 years, and I was content. But now, I crave it—I crave him. And he knows it.

Bastard.

Returning home in a daze, my legs tremble as I stumble towards my room. With a heavy thud, I drop my bag to the floor and collapse onto my bed. Trying to comprehend the events that just unfolded, I let out a long, shaky breath.

There was a knife…inside me.

Dragging myself to my feet, I strip off the dress that still carries the lingering scent of Argent. His aroma only fuels my frustration. I can’t believe what he did to me. Slipping into a thin, loose crop top and just my underwear—I crawl back into bed, consumed by an idea.

I’m frustrated and horny because of that prick, and if he doesn’t want to do anything about it—I will. Closing my weary eyes, I allow my hand to venture between my legs. A gasp escapes my lips as I feel how soaking wet I still am but before I can indulge further, the piercing ring of my phone shatters the silence, reverberating through the room.

Who the fuck would call now?

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, confusion washes over me as I see Argent’s nickname illuminating the screen. Frowning, I answer, my voice laced with annoyance, “What do you—”

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