Page 35 of Panic-Button
“Give me that fucking knife!”
“Eat shit,” she grunted while slipping out from under me enough to swing her fist back.
This time I was ready.
I snatched her wrist before she could strike and slammed her arm down while crawling back over her to sit on her hips.
She thrashed about and yelled, “Get off me.”
But it was the way she spat in my face that made me stop and glare down at her.
Taking a deep breath, I wiped the wet spot off my cheek with the back of my hand and said, “That’s strike three.”
There were a lot of things I’d put up with. Disrespect was not one.
“Take your strikes and shove them up your ass!”
If she wanted to shove things up asses…
“Well, seeing as you already gave me some lube….” I paused long enough to lick her spit off the back of my hand.
Her throat bobbed in the most enticing way. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” And she knew it.
There were two choices she could make in this situation. Poking the beast was not the right one, which was exactly what she did. One second she was a fun little game to play. The next, she was fucking annoying. Throwing her arms and kicking her legs while screaming, “Fuck you. I hate you.”
Fuck nice. She was getting it hard and rough, and if she were lucky, I’d leave her ass alone.
First, I had to get my knife away from her. She kept swinging her fist to hit me with it and even managed to land a couple of strikes. Thankfully, they weren’t on the side of my head again, but I still felt it.
Little bitch had a tight hold on it, though. I was having trouble prying her fingers apart. The twisting about wasn’t helping. Every time I got somewhere, Marnie would jerk and retighten her grip.
“You better give me that shit.”
Marnie answered by turning her hip to bring her knee up into my back.
All right, where the fuck was that rope?
One glance over my shoulder was all it took to spot the golden cord. I snatched her wrist and stretched my other arm to grab it.
Binding someone was a pretty simple task to accomplish. A quick arbor knot after winding the rope around her wrists and bam, done. Quick and easy. At least it should’ve been. But just like the knife, every time I got somewhere, she’d pull a hand free.
That problem was solved with a firm slap to her face. A crack rang through the air, stilling Marnie’s fight. After that, she opted to grit her teeth while giving me the look of death.
“There. Now, isn’t that easier?” I twisted the fabric around one wrist before looping it over the other.
“You’ll get what’s coming to you.”
“Sure,” I snorted. She wasn’t the first person to say that, and I still had yet to meet this divine retribution. “And who’s going to give it to me, you?”
Marnie lifted her head up to hiss in my face, “You’re not the only one people should be afraid of.”
Now we were getting somewhere. I was tempted to bring up the frat boy she drugged, but that little tidbit of information might be useful later.
So instead, I sighed and pointed out the flaw in her statement. “I’m incapable of feeling fear.”
Or regret, remorse, or sadness. I used to wonder why people cried. Now I didn’t care.
