Page 21 of The Art of Obsession
“Yes,” I seethe, brushing the nose of my mask along her cheek, a broken nose, ruined like a corpse. Because she getsthe horror tonight. “I’m the reason people lock their doors at night, believe in demons. I’m their darkest fantasies. I’m every fucking predator, serial killer, mafia lord, stalker, and rapist your twisted, little mind could ever conceive. Because I can be whatever the fuck I want to be. I’ve paid for that. You will pay the price to be my greatest work.”
“P-please!” she pleads weakly, trying to tug at the rope, but I tighten it, and I’ll cherish the marks.
“Yes, beg, sweet girl. Because, you, Little Quill, aremine. My historian, my woman, and my masterpiece in the making. You’re the art I will mold. I’ll desecrate you and violate you if I believe it will serve the bloody, gruesome business that is art. Creation is pain and pleasure, obsession and possession, fantasy and reality. It’s everything. It fills that hollow in our hearts and feeds upon our very souls. Tonight, I’ll have a piece of yours. Tomorrow? We will see.”
Before she can speak again, I reach into my pocket and tap the phone screen against her face, showing her the evidence. She gulps. Hot tears stream down her face as she takes in the sick messages of this “good guy” bragging to his friends about how he suckered another drunk, desperate girl. And the things he’d do to her later. I didn’t give a damn either way. I saw the message after his body was cold and swinging.
Twisting the rope stronger, I pull the lever on her seat and lower it just enough to give me more access to her. But I bind the rope to one of the handles in the backseat, keeping her in this position before I catch her thrashing hands, then pulling my knife on her. She freezes, but her breath is wild.
“How sweet…” I hum, tracing the knife along her breast where her nipple is so hard, it prods through the fabric of her bra and dress. “Your mind may lie, but your body cannot.” I trace the immaculate tip with the knife point, hearing her whimper.
In three seconds, I cut the straps of her little, black dress, exposing the alabaster skin of her upper chest and delicate collarbone. My eyes fall on the tender curve of her neck, a throat worthy of a vampire’s feast.
Her breath heaves and cleaves, plumping her pretty tits more. When I trail the point of the blade along that exquisite, narrow shadow between her breasts, she goes still, blinking, but more tears leave her eyes.
She won’t get my knife tonight. The knife is for scarring art upon the canvas of her flesh. No, tonight, she will get myteeth. A reminder of who has his jaws around her. But the blade serves its purpose when I drag it along her cheek and say, “Now, are you going to be a good girl and get in the passenger seat and allow me to drive you home with no protests?”
She clenches her eyes shut but purses her lips and nods weakly.
After I’ve shifted her to the other seat, I still bind her to it, ensuring she can’t move in the time that it will take to get to her apartment. Tonight, I will leave far more than a sketch on her bed.
9
“You’ll beg and crawl, too—when the time comes.”
Chapter Playlist:
“Control” – Halsey
ACHERON
How I lovethat silver fire in her eyes.
We’re in her territory now, where she feels she has the comfort and advantage. That will soon change.
I still have the rope wrapped around her lovely throat. With the cut straps of the dress, the upper slopes of her breasts are on full display.
“You’re a fucking slob, Everleigh,” I remark on the state of her apartment. I will expect her to take better care of her surroundings, but I have taken care of her future ones.
“Mmm, sorry,” she mutters, gasping from the rope. “Next time I’ll make sure to tidy up in case my stalker decides to drop by.”
I jab the handle of the knife on her lower back and command, “Move.”
Once I have her in the bedroom, I close the door, shove her onto the bed, and make quick work of tying her limbs to the bedposts. Loose enough that I may curl those pretty limbs but tight enough to send a message. As she’s taking deep breaths and struggling against the ropes, I draw the shades, turn off all but one light, then find a scarf for her blindfold.
She snaps her teeth, and I lightly slap her cheek. “None of that tonight, my sweet historian. This night will go down inourhistory. The beginning of many to come.”
“I’ll fight. I’ll scream!” she spits out.
“You’ll beg and crawl, too—when the time comes. But…” I hover over her, grinding my cock against her stomach, and let my breath cast along her face. “For now, this will suffice for your subservience.”
I retrieve the needle from my suit coat and inject the correct dosage into her neck. She shrieks, wildly shaking her head, but she’s already succumbing to the sedative. Enough to fog her mind and spread a warm lull to numb the tension in her body.
As she softens, her back sinking onto the soft sheets, I nod my approval, taking a moment to appreciate her uncontrollable surrender. She can still speak, moan, cry…clench, but no screams and no battle. I need her still and calm for my plans.
First, I remove my mask. And thrill in the sight of her. Something I envisioned the first time she strayed through the mist into that cemetery.
My cock hardens to iron. No, I won’t be fucking her tonight. Not here. But I will fuck that sweet, narrow throat.
