Page 42 of The Trick

“Ha, that’s what I fucking thought,” he growls, digging his hand deeper against my dripping pussy. Even with the barrier of my minimal clothing, the warmth of his palm, mixed with the lingering arousal he left abandoned from his tongue, sends a heated surge through my body. “You’re so sexy when you’re desperate to come,” he purrs, mouth near my cheek.

My jaw tenses. “When I get out there, I’m going to grab my knife and, if you even think of following me, I will stab you with it,” I warn.

“I was hoping that’s what you’d say,” he groans. His stubble brushes against my face as his teeth descend onto my cheek.

Ew, why does he make cheek biting hot?

I fucking hate him even more now.

“Ew,” I say in protest, stepping away from him to wipe away the trail of saliva he left on my face.

A muffled chuckle sounds as he flicks his wrist upward, bringing his watch into view. “Listen, time’s ticking. If we are going to take this party across the street to the cemetery, we need to speed things up.”

“The cemetery?” I ask, confused.

“Oh yes,” he grins.

Closing the space between us, he tips my chin with his hand, forcing my gaze to his now fully masked face. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to strut that fine ass back out there without making a peep. No signaling for help, no calling the cops. Nothing, do you understand me?”

I roll my eyes. “Yep, whatever you say.”

Unamused with my bratty attitude, his grip tightens on my chin. “I may be crazy, but I’m also fair. I wouldn’t dream of inflicting the pain I have planned for you without a fair fight. Grab your knife and meet me outside the entrance of Satan’s,” he instructs.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m going to destroy the carefully curated tower of lies you’ve been building all these years, by showing everyone this,” he exchanges my chin for his phone. A few swipes of his phone later, grainy footage of me in the entryway, stabbing the reporter from earlier in the week to death flashes before my eyes.

I can tell by the way his head tilts, studying my face, he’s expecting a grand reaction from me. But I stand there, unmoved. I should feel something as I watch myself drive the knife into the man’s chest, but my emotions towards that traitor feel hollow unlike the beating in my chest that makes me want to pounce at him and choke him for the hell he is still putting me through.

“Why did you do it?” he asks.

“None of your business,” I deflect, about to pivot towards the door but he lowers his hand, trapping my wrist. His palm is so large that there’s room for him to still hold his phone while squeezing me.

“Let go of me,” I grit and surprisingly he lets go.

My heels lift, moving my determined pace towards the door when his cedarwood musk wafts at my nose as he swoops in front of where I’m walking. The chains that drape on his side tap at the wooden door he begins to barricade with his back pressed against it.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get my knife if you won’t get the fuck out of my way?” Exasperated, I pound at his chest but like a wall of bricks, he remains in my way and motionless.

“Relax, can’t I just wanted to look in your eyes one last time like this,” he says cryptically.

“You sound pretty confident. It’s almost as if you think you’re going to kill me,” I quip.

“Something like that.” He steps aside, brushing his calloused palm against my hand. “Remember, you run when I tell you to, not a moment before. If I get out there and don’t see you waiting for me, you’re not going to like what happens next.”

I lift my palm to his mask, giving it a not-so-subtle tap. “I haven’t enjoyed a god damn thing you’ve done so far, so don’t fucking tempt me with a good time.”

“I mean it, Blair,” he says in a reprimanding tone. “Chop chop, hellcat and remember your life depends on it.”

Laying a firm hand on my ass, he sends me off with one more spank that feels so good I almost forget how much I want to drive my knife into him the second that I get it back.

* * *

The beginning of Kid Brunswick’s “Heaven Without You” thuds against speakers, rattling the floor I’m standing still on. I try lifting my foot to take a step but for reasons beyond my comprehension, I can’t. It’s like the music is ripping through me, distracting my every sense.

I like this song but fuck, I didn’t realize it was capable of throwing my body into a state of hypnosis.

A rigid lump forms in my throat, only adding to this odd sensation that seems to be pulling me back to the hall of private rooms I just left.

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