Page 45 of Never Die for a Sinner
She backs up against the wall, jumping when she hits the chair in the corner.
She shivers, trying to come up with a reason as to why she’s in my room, and, even in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, I can see that she’s gone pale.
“Looking for something?” I step into the room, and I swear she jumps with every thud of my boots on the ground.
“I-I-I . . .” she stammers, her eyes darting for any possible exit she can find.
There isn’t one. There’s no way out for her. Not unless I allow it, and now that I’ve got her cornered, I’m feeling anything but generous.
She’s going to regret the moment I caught her sneaking around.
“You know it’s rude to go through people’s things.”
“I was just looking for something,” she lies. “I thought I lost an earring.”
“Is that so?” I taunt, rounding the post of the bed.
She backs into the corner, as far away from me as she can get, and secretly, I’m fucking begging for her to give me a reason to hunt her.
I’ve never cared much to play with my food before I eat it, but prissy little Ava Ryan . . . that’s a different story.
For the past year, my thoughts have been plagued with what I’d like to do with her. How badly I want to hear her scream for me. How I want to hear her moan my name and beg me for more.
After this afternoon, I’m strung tight and barely restraining myself from throwing her onto the bed and showing her how good it feels to give in to me. I wasn’t lying when I told her she needed to get laid.
I just left out the part where I would cut the dick off any man who tried.
“You see, little ghost . . . I think that’s a lie.”
She swallows nervously. Poor thing is even shaking as if I’d hurt her.
She’s not wrong. I do plan on hurting her. I just plan on making it feel like fucking heaven when I do.
She shakes her head, tongue darting out to lick her soft pink lips.
“N-no. I thought I lost it when I was dusting.”
“Really?”
I step closer. She realizes she has nowhere left to run.
“You see, the funny thing about that, sweetheart?” I stop right in front of her. She flinches when I raise my hand, brushing the soft chocolate hair back from her face and leaning close. Fuck she smells like heaven. “You don’t wear earrings.”
She freezes for a moment before cold, harsh clarity washes over her, and her eyes widen to big pale-green saucers. I chuckle darkly under my breath, and just when I’m about to press against her, she darts.
She doesn’t make it far before I catch her around the waist, dragging her down to the bed. Her stomach hits the mattress, and a gust of air pushes out of both of us when I fall over her. I keep most of my weight on my knees and hands, using one to wrap around her throat from behind.
Dragging her head back, I press my lips against her ear, a mix of lust and anger at her snooping washing over me.
“I’m sorry,” she rushes, clawing at the comforter beneath her.
“Not so fast, little ghost. Let’s talk about this. Why were you snooping through my room?”
“I already told you I wasn’t,” she growls, her throat bobbing under my hand.
“And I don’t believe you. What’s the matter? Didn’t get enough in the closet the other day?”
“Fuck you,” she seethes, and I can’t help but laugh wickedly.
