Page 10 of Villainous
He shakes his head. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
I have no words for his response, and I can’t think of another lie, so my heart beats harder than the rain on the roof for the remainder of the ride.
When the car comes to a complete stop in front of the Italian-style mansion with its reddish rooftop, fear eats at me like a disease. What exactly is he going to do to me?
Once we’re inside, my steps toward the bedroom feel as if blocks of cement are tied to my feet.
He kicks the door and thrusts me onto the bed, and my ass bounces on the mattress.
I scoot away from him, but he grabs my boot, yanking me closer to him.
He’s unpredictable when he’s in a state of rage, and whatever punishment he’s about to do, I hope it’ll be over with quickly.
He yanks my hoodie over my head, then removes my shirt and leggings, exposing my lacey bra and panties.
“When will you get it into your thick skull that you belong to me? You’re mine until you take your last breath. On your knees.”
His eyes are feral, and the vein in his forehead throbs. Fear paralyzes me as I lie there, frozen.
“If I have to force you to do it, then we’re going to have a problem, little dove.” His tone is darker than a night in October.
I hope the pain won’t be too unbearable for me to take. An ounce of me hopes the rage simmers down and he comes to his senses. I nod, and slowly, I sit on my knees, avoiding eye contact with him. I don’t want him to sense my fear of him, or what he’s about to do will be the thing that actually breaks me.
“Put your hands behind your back.” His warm breath tickles my cheek, and my heart slams into my chest.
Biting my lip, I do what he says, and he takes a strap thing and wraps it around my arms, then hooks it to the headboard.
He takes a knife from his holster and trails the cool metal down to my torso, then down to my stomach.
Terror overrides my senses, and tears burn in the backs of my eyes. I try to keep them down by biting my bottom lip. Finally, I work up the courage to shift my eyes to his face. It’s wiped clean of emotions, but his eyes tell a different story. They tell a story of rage, brimming and feral like a wild animal. His eyes make my anxiety spike out of control.
“You need to learn a lesson on leaving me. You need to feel my pain because I’ve been lenient with you. My love for you has made me weak, but not anymore.”
I can tell admitting he still has feelings for me was a big mistake because his mouth goes to his usual default pout.
He cuts my lace bra, and it falls to the bed. My nipples are erect from the warm air, and goose bumps sprout on my skin.
He trails the knife down to the inside of my panties, and he cuts the thin fabric, then tells me to sit up so he can remove them.
Knife play has always been one of my favorite kinks. It’s the adrenaline that it gives you and a high of fear and excitement at the same time. Not the part where he cuts me—I don’t care for that—but the cool feel of the knife, that it can hurt me, gets me off.
“Lie back down, and spread your legs. I want to see how wet your pussy is.”
Villainous knows what turns me on and what won’t. When we were in high school, he took the time to study my body like a map.
Immediately, I do what he says, and my eyes study the excitement on his face. We’ve done knife play before—it was always our kink—but something in my gut tells me this punishment is going to be brutal. This won’t be something I will enjoy.
Panic breaks out inside of me like a bad rash. I want to fight back and scream at him, do something. But I’m paralyzed. My pulse accelerates so hard in my throat that I think the veins are going to burst, and the room spins like a hurricane. My words are caught in my throat, so I lie there, studying the patterns of the ceiling. Then a sharp pain erupts on my skin. Tears sit on the inside of my eyes, and my gaze drifts down to my lower side where he penetrated my skin, and drops of blood leak onto the crimson sheets.
“You tell me why you left, then I’ll make your punishment a lot less painful.” His tone is calm but deadly as poison.
I do what I always do when I feel defeated. I gather up all the saliva in the back of my throat and spit in his lovely face. It lands on his slightly crooked nose, which he broke playing football in high school.
His laugh is deep as he wipes the spit on the blanket. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“The reason why I left you was because you weren’t good enough for me. You’re horrible in bed, and you’re too stupid to know how to use your big dick.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could comprehend what I said. They were all lies. I figured he needs a jab at his ego before whatever he’s about to do to me. He’s already got it in his mind that he’s going to hurt me severely, so might as well push his buttons.
