Page 252 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

The clink of a belt.

Tears burn. Anger and heartbreak twisting like a blade.

“Get away from me,” I croak.

But he only snarls, “Stop telling yourself lies.”

He pulls out his cock—long, thick, painfully hard.

And my thighs betray me, clenching as slickness pools fast enough to make my head spin.

I whimper. I know how pathetic it sounds.

“Open your lying fucking mouth,” he commands, fisting himself, gripping my hair.

The blunt head nudges my lips—taunting, inescapable.

“Wrap your lips around me, Sunshine. We both know you’re starving for it.”

I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell.

I really do.

But the second my lips part, he thrusts deep.

My gag reflex triggers, tears springing to my eyes.

He grunts—low, filthy satisfaction rumbling from his chest.

Drives in again, slow but firm.

Owns me.

He talks to me the whole time.

Scolding. Praising.

Telling me how beautiful I look choking on the truth.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Take it. Take me deep, baby. You love this. You love me owning your mouth.”

I claw weakly at his thighs, trying to push him back. But it’s a lie.

And he knows it.

Every time he slides into my throat, I suck harder on the way out—rolling my tongue, hollowing my cheeks like I’m trying to wreck him the way he’s wrecking me.

“Look at me,” he snaps, yanking on my hair so I have no choice.

I do—and almost lose what’s left of my sanity.

His pupils are blown, voice a growl soaked in feral hunger.

“Relax your jaw,” he orders.

I obey.

Loosen and open for him.

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