Page 9 of Noire Moon
“Such an inquisitive little flower,” the other one murmurs.
Hearing him keep on calling me that sends a spike of fear mixing with my arousal. He surely doesn’t know my name… does he? Is it too much of a coincidence that he’s using that nickname when my actual name, Posey, is so unusual?
To be honest, I fucking hate my name. The thing never felt like it suited me and always conjured up images in my mind of old ladies’ cloying perfume and ugly dried flower arrangements gathering dust on a shelf.
Rot and decay.
Not the things you necessarily want to think about every time you hear your name called.
No, I quickly reason with myself, he couldn’t know who I am. They might be a secret society, but they’re not interested in someone like me.
I’m not on a VIP guest list. I’m anobodywho won my ticket by accident because I just so happened to be in the right place, swiping my overdrawn card at the right time.
“I’m not. Just give me back to my friends.” God, this encounter has stretched my sanity to its limits.
Fingers grip my chin now and dig in painfully tight, partially squeezing my cheeks in order to drag my face upward, demanding I tilt my unseeing eyes toward whoever is lingering over me in the inky darkness.
As my throat swallows down, I blink several times, but still can’t make out a fucking thing, and another flood of arousal makes an appearance. Is there a link to being trapped in the dark with two strangers? Apparently, my pussy has discovered a new interest, and she’s one highly alert bitch. At the rate my chest is heaving, they can probably hear every thud against my ribcage, alerting them to the chaos raging beneath my exterior.
“Wonder what she’ll do for us?”
Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
“Maybe that band on her wrist is all for show, and she doesn’t want that at all. I bet she’s lying, and we’ll be hearing her safe word in another two minutes.”
The man at my front is talking about me like I’m not here. From the way he keeps going and doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that the other man hasn’t said a word, maybe this is what it’s always like between them.
Two hunters working in unison.
“How badly does the slut want to be returned to her friends, do you think?”
I am not being turned on by this. I. Am. Not. Repeating those little syllables to myself surely might strengthen my resolve. Surely, I can cling to hope that by saying it over and over again in my mind, there’s a possibility it will make it true.
A wicked chuckle floats between us. Another roaming glide of metal against my arm.
Those words to myself do fuck all. It doesn’t have the desired effect. In fact, it would seem I definitely have a kink for being used, and these two invisible figures in a dark room just illuminated that in my mind’s eye. There is now an illuminated runway complete with a baton-waving attendant guiding this aircraft to land straight into horny-ville inside my brain.
My mouth feels like it has been filled with sand as I try to swallow.
Cold and sharpness of a deadly edge—the kiss of a blade against delicate flesh—chases the movement of my throat in an instant, and my body lights up at the point of contact. This time, it feels sharp-tipped and leaves an unmistakable indent in my skin.
Two things register in my equally aroused and scared brain at the same time. First, that they must be able to see everything, even though I’m blinded by this void of blackness. Second, is that this psycho is pressing the tip of a knife against my throat.
A whimper falls from my mouth. I really try to fight it, I do, but it tumbles out and I immediately know that I’m done for. They know I’m locked in their sights and their jaws are already closing in around me.
I’m no longer prey to be hunted.
I’m the meal they’re preparing to devour.
Now, the only decision that remains is how long they’re going to take while they pick my bones clean.
Will they go about it slowly and methodically? Or will they tear me apart like bloodthirsty creatures who’ve been starved for months?
“Bet if we turned her around, the bitch would be humping your leg already. Pathetic.”
The one behind me doesn’t do or say anything, and it’s so damn unnerving. It’s as if he’s disgusted with me. As if he can tell just how my body is burning up on the inside and feels completely twisted upside down by the other man’s words.
“Hmm. Desperate to be choking on cock aren’t you, love… I can smell it on you.”
