Page 62 of Turn That River Red

“I’m not human,” he purrs. “I’m the boogeyman. But I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you feel good.”

I swoon, my eyes rolling back in my head as he presses his lips to my neck and licks the blood away. I can smell it everywhere, coppery and pungent.

“You’re the devil,” I gasp out, terror coiling around me.

“A devil,” he says into the hollow of my throat, his breath making me shiver. “More or less.” He pulls away, eyes blazing with a madness that makes lust flare deep in my belly. He never looks away from me as he reaches down and pulls out his erection, as covered in gore as the rest of him.

“You can’t,” I gasp.

“Why not?” He pushes his hand up along the inside of my thigh again, and despite my best intentions not to, I still moan with pleasure as his fingers find my clit. “Because you don’t want me?”

“Because you’re hurt,” I gasp out, trying not to think about the blood on his fingers as he parts my folds to gather the wetness between my legs—a wetness I can’t deny as he swipes it around my clit, making me moan.

“So you do want me?”

“You’re a killer!” I scream, and Ambrose pulls his hand away from my clit and presses it against my thigh.

“That didn’t answer the question,” he says.

I stare at him, sucking down breaths. He looks like a nightmare towering over me, his entire midsection drenched in blood.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.

Something flickers across his expression. His fingers drift up into my folds again, and he slides two fingers inside me, making me gasp and squirm with pleasure. I try not to think about the blood on them. About the blood on his thumb as he circles it around my clit.

“I don’t know,” he says. “There’s something special about you.”

“You’re hurt,” I whimper, squirming beneath his touch. “You’re a killer. You’re?—“

“Let me fuck you.” Ambrose shifts forward, his blood-sticky erection pressing into my thigh as he continues to touch me in that way that makes me feel like I’m falling apart. “One last time. I want to remember how good this fucking pussy feels around my cock.”

I moan at his filthy words, at his filthy touch. His rubs me faster, and to my horror, I buck into his hands, groaning and arching my back.

“Well?” He crawls on top of me, shoving my bloody skirt up around my waist until I’m exposed for him.

Waitingfor him.

“If I say no, will you even stop?”

A dark cloud crosses Ambrose’s face. “Yes. But you’re not going to say no.”

He’s right. I hate that he’s right. I hate that I like what he’s doing to me, our bodies both drenched in blood. I hate that I don’t understand how he’s even doing all of this, that his belly is gaping open and still his eyes are bright and his touch is firm.

He really is the boogeyman. He really is the devil.

“What’ll it be, Mercy?” He slides another finger inside me, and I quake with pleasure. He’s the only man who knows how to touch me. The only man who knows how to make me feel pleasure.

“Yes,” I scream. “Take me, you damned monster!”

Ambrose breaks into a manic, terrifying grin. He doesn’t look human at all.

He’snothuman. That’s what he said.

A devil. More or less.

“That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear,” he growls, and I know I’m damning myself for moaning beneath his pliable fingers, for spreading my legs for this abomination.

But I don’t care.

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