Page 32 of The Trick

He nods his head so enthusiastically that the blade nicks his flesh, drawing a bead of crimson.

I release my hold on him, slapping a palm against his cheek. “That’s a good boy,” I tease.

Knife still in my hand, I move toward where Blair stands with her bottom lip trapped beneath her front teeth. A ravenous expression claims her face as I knew it would. She loves knives, after all. Thepotential for bloodshed is practically foreplay for her tastes.

Clearing my throat, I address Kevin. “Let me school you on how claiming a woman like this goes,” I stop just in front of Blair, so the tip of my knife hovers over the small glass vial on her necklace. “Winning a contest doesn’t make her yours. It simply makes you an obstacle, one that I have no problem getting rid of if need be. See this Katrina isn’t the one that graced your TV screen and she certainly isn’t the one Washington Irving had in mind. Trust me Kevin, I’m doing you a favor. You wouldn’t last five minutes alone with her. This Van Tassel is mine.”

Always has been, always will be.

I tap the edge of the knife against the necklace I gifted Blair, watching the way her chest rises and falls. I can practically smell the arousal on her and, would you look at that? I think I heard a moan.

Easy baby, it’s just the tip.

Another inch forward and the knife makes a clinking sound as it taps the delicate glass.

I need to be careful, I don’t want any blood to spill from ityet.

“Isn’t that right, Ms. Van Tassel?” I ask.

She licks her lips, her seductive expression is all the response I need before Glinda steps in.

“That’s enough of this pissing contest.” She directs her statement mostly to me. “And put that knife down, now. You made your point.” Glinda says, shooing me away like a pest. “Now get.”

Glinda turns her attention to Kevin to console him and his friends, so it’s just her and I…and a sea of onlookers, but once the DJ finally starts playing music again the heated stares dissipate.

I move my ringed index finger to her cheek and although her skin prickles in response, I know it’s not from fear, or at least the kind that most people experience, because fear turns my little hellcat on. And after the night I have planned for us both, there will be more than blood dripping from her body.

Finger still on her face, my thumb rubs at the button on my ring, but what it will do to that contraption she is wearing isn’t meant for anyone’s eyes but mine to witness, so that will have to wait.

I inhale, watching the way her body and mind are at war with one another.

“It looks good on you,” I say, continuing to stroke her cheekbone.

“Oh, your gift?” She says looking down at the harness.

I lower my head, so the mask brushes against her ear. “No, the blood.”

Her eyes lower to where my finger is drifting down her chin. I begin to trace a delicate line down her neck working my way across her ample cleavage that spills over her bodysuit, I smile even though she can’t see it through the mask.

The way her eyes are locked on my mask, makes my cock hard, thinking of the somersaults her stomach must be doing, reading every mistake she made, hiding behind her days of being FinalGirlsRock_666.

“Well, would you look at that. If it isn’t the fucker that’s been following me around for the better half of, what, fifteen years now?” she sneers, with an arrogant and devilish grin.

I take a step closer, close the space between us.

“Yep, and now I’m the lucky fucker thatownsyou for the night,” I murmur.

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” she says, motioning to my mask, just to be a fresh little brat. I know she fucking heard me. Loud and clear.

I lower my palm from her cleavage and down to her hand, squeezing it as I lower my masked face. “Are you scared?”

“Nope. Not even close.” She rolls her eyes, trying to keep the smirk that wants to break free. “What’s with the weird writing on your mask? Into arts and crafts?”

I groan, increasing the pressure on her wrist. “No. It’s there so when you're forced to look at me, all you can see are your lies and in return, I get to see how turned on you are when you’re close to death.” I release her wrist and, of course, instead of running away, she simply moves closer to me. Shifting her weight forward, she glides her palm overtop my pants, cupping her fingers at my trapped bulge. An audible gasp from a random patron in the distance is the only reminder that we aren’t alone and that we literally have a room full of people looking at us like we’re crazy. They wouldn’t be wrong. I am many things, and crazy…for her, is most definitely up there on that list.

“Sounds like a dream come true to me,” she breathes before, tapping her fresh little hands against where the three ridges of my cock lay beneath my pants.

A laugh breaks through my lips causing a pissed off expression to form on her hauntingly beautiful face.

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