Page 30 of Creep
“You clearly didn’t do a good enough job.” I swing my gaze to him with confusion and anger etched on my face and he’s smirking at me, clearly trying to get a rise out of me.
“Don’t talk about shit you know nothing about because like I’ve told you before, you know nothing about what I’ve been through.” I attempt to spit venom into my words to get my point across, but his tongue running along my skin turns into his teeth grazing up and down and I lose my train of thought. More heat pools at my core and floods through my body. Confusion clouds my mind as my pussy begins to throb.
“What,” I clear my throat, trying to clear it, while also attempting to gather my thoughts. “What are you doing?” I try to pull my arm away, but his grip on me turns to stone. He brings his brown eyes to mine, peering through me and straight into my soul.
It’s an otherworldly experience feeling like someone can see straight through you to the depth of your soul. You feel naked, laid completely fucking bare to them.
Toxicity runs through my veins. His touch is venom in my bloodstream, slowing my heart and weakening my body. I’m paralyzed and it becomes difficult to breathe.
“I’m doing whatever the fuck I want. Now shut that pretty little mouth.” I snap my mouth closed, not wanting him to stop whatever it is he is doing to hurt me. The result of his anger is not the kind of pain I want right now, but I like what he’s doing to me far too much to ever admit it aloud, much less to myself.
I feel the sharp point of the knife push into my skin. My eyes snap open automatically at the sensation of pain.
“If you want to cut, if youneedto cut, if youneedthe pain, you come to me and I will be the one to give it to you. Do you understand me? You are no longer allowed to bring this knife, or any other sharp object I will add,” he quirks his brow to let me know he already knows what I’ll try, “to your skin while you are in this house with me. That will be my fucking job. If you want to hurt yourself, I will do it for you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. That’s final.” I swear I feel my jaw unhinge in my shock.
How dare he.
Rage boils through my bloodstream, every ounce of my lust gone.Lust? No. It was only confusion.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You think you have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do with myown fucking body?I don’t know what sick fucking notion you have in your head about me, but let me tell you some—” I’m cut off by the blade dragging across my arm, leaving a trail of blood in its path as it bites through my skin.
“Well, would you look at that. It seems all I have to do to get you to finally shut the fuck up, is to cut you. I’ll keep that in mind. Second, did you forget you’re my fucking property? Your beautiful, scarred, and bloody body is mine to do whatever I fucking want with.”
I vaguely hear his words as I stare at the cut he gave me, his voice muffled. It's longer than the ones I usually give myself—though not deeper. I always get lost in the moment and end up with short, deep, and mutilated cuts. It’s almost like I’m in a frenzy and I completely lose myself when it happens.
But his is a much cleaner cut, and for some reason, even a fucking cut onmybody, surrounded by dozens of others I did myself, his feels more like me than the rest. And I fucking hate it. I don’t even know what it is, but I don’t want to think about it right now either.
My eyes must have drifted closed because, without warning, I feel Vincent’s lips press to mine in a desperate kiss, his tongue instantly seeking mine. I open up to him, tangling my tongue with his. The water continues to rain down on us as he moves back, pulling me with him. He shifts my legs on either side of him, but not before ripping my leggings down my legs. He grips my ass cheeks in both of his hands, grinding my body down on top of him. I have no idea what’s going on, but all I do know is I’m so fucking lost in this moment and never want to leave. The pain, the pleasure, all of it mixing together creating the ultimate storm of chaos.
A moan escapes my lips as he trails his mouth down my neck, sinking his teeth in deep enough to pierce the skin. I hiss at the sting and then moan as it transforms into heat pooling at my center. My pussy throbs the more bite marks he leaves.
I bring my hands to his hair, tugging the strands in my fists while I continue to grind myself on his jean-clad cock.
He pulls his head from me, “You fucking want this, don’t you, baby doll? You can try to lie to me all you want, but this,” he cups my pussy, his fingers putting enough pressure on me, they almost tear through the delicate fabric of my panties.
“This can never fucking lie to me. Even though we’re in the fucking shower right now, I can still tell how wet you are.” He pushes harder against the material and they tear, allowing him the access to shove his fingers inside of me and for the first time, I moan instead of scream.
“You see how easily I pushed my way inside of you, baby? That’s because you fucking love it.” He continues to pump his fingers in and out of me and I rock my hips along with the movement of his hand. I tilt my head back, my hair falling down my back and brushing my tailbone. Vincent wraps my hair around his fist and tugs, my neck arching higher the harder he pulls.
“Keep your head like this, do you understand?” I don’t answer him at first, lost in the moment, so he yanks my head, ripping strands of hair out. “I asked if you fucking understood?” He stops moving his hand inside me and it snaps me out of my reverie.
“Yes. I understand you.” My words come out breathy, giving away how turned on I really am, but at this point, I’m way past caring. I want more of what he’s giving me.
He lets go of my hair and begins moving his fingers again. “Good girl.” He curls his fingers up, massaging my walls and hitting a spot which has my legs shaking. My pussy clamps around his fingers at his words, showing him just how fucked up I really am. At the angle my head is tilted at, it’s hard to see a thing, especially with the water, but I still manage to see his smirk.I hate how hot his smile is. Pure, sexy fucking evil.His straight, perfectly white teeth, with literal fangs gracing his mouth. Fangs which have left bloody bite marks all over my body.
Pleasure pools in the pit of my stomach and heat spreads from the tips of my toes, upward. I think this is what the beginning of an orgasm feels like because when he fucked me last night was the first time I have ever felt anything like this. I rock my hips faster against his hand, my clit rubbing against his palm.
I feel the cold of the blade press against my exposed throat and I don’t want to stop, but with the way it’s pressed against me, I freeze. I’m all too aware of the fact all he has to do is push in at a certain angle and I’ll bleed out in seconds.But would it really be such a bad thing? Death brings peace, it brings nothingness.I smile. The fear is still present, but pushed to the side at the thought of dying.
“I wonder what I’m going to do now, baby doll. With this blade pressed to your throat, there are so many options. Your neck stretched taut as it is would make slitting your throat much more difficult, but definitely not impossible. All I would have to do is put in a little more effort and it would sink into your skin like hot butter. Slicing you up and making you bleed all over is what I’m thinking about right now though. I can see it now. Your blood running down your beautifully fucked up body, flooding the shower floor beneath us and turning everything the most beautiful shade of red.”
I dare to defy him by bringing my head down to look him in the eyes. The blade digs deeper into my skin, but I push against it. “Do your worst, baby.” The fire in his eyes at my words should have me worried, but I’m not. I don’t care if he kills me. I am so fucking tired of fighting this battle every day.
What’s the point? Holley is off at college, free from our parents. And yeah, Ben can threaten her all he wants, but he wouldn’t ever hurt her, I don't think. All of his anger has always been directed towards me. Besides, Holley was always only a fucking excuse for me to be a coward. I have always been too afraid to fight back, scared of what would happen if I ever did break free.
Ben’s abuse is all I have ever known and I have always been too terrified to know what would happen if everything changed. Would things get better or, god forbid, get worse? If I would’ve had the courage to speak up, would Holley and I have ended up in a foster home with even shittier parents? Foster parents who would have abused us both, or worse, her instead of me.
It was a chance I never would have taken, therefore, I remained a coward and stayed hidden in the shadows with my secrets. Secrets I kept from everyone. I never made friends at school and I only remained at school long enough for the classes I needed to be in. Then I would ditch.
