Page 58 of Shattered
“I might not be you,” she said, standing. She grasped the sides of my mask, her fingers warming the leather. “But I understand it. At least some of it. I’m just as messed up as you are.”
“You know who I am,” I said.
“I do.”
“You know what I do. What I’ve done. I killed your roommate. I could kill that best friend of yours tonight if I wanted.”
“Jake?” she asked. I nodded. Her eyes softened then, flicking back and forth between the blank lenses of my mask. “I’m not saying that it’s right,” she said, “but you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
“And you still want me, after all of that?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
We stood there for a moment, her hands on my mask, our feet close, sharing the same space.
“I want to give myself to you.”
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t used to this. This feeling. The media likes to portray this idea that people like me can’t feel emotion, but the opposite is true. I felt everything when it came to myself, but nothing when it came to other people. Why would I be remorseful when I knew that what I did was the right thing? Society might disagree, but who was the rest of the world to decide what was right and what was wrong?
And yet this feeling, this…connection with Melissa. It unnerved me. I had grown used to being alone, taking comfort in the fact that with one more predator dead, another person could sleep soundly that night, even if it took me closer to my own grave.
But Melissa made me want to stay.
“You’re right,” she said. “I do want you to punish me. However you want. Whatever you want.”
She was daring. I could give her that.
“I’ll rip you apart,” I warned.
“Then destroy me.”
I studied her for a moment. She knew what she was doing. But did she understand the pain I could cause her?
I took a contact case from one of the pockets on my pants. I handed it to her.
“Put these in. Use the walls to guide yourself back to the bedroom,” I said.
She nodded and did as she was told, no questions asked. I turned off the light, then lit the candle and waited for her to return. When she did, her eyelids were open, but her eyes were completely black. She opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her.
“These are called blindfold contacts,” I said, taking her arms in my gloved hands. “They take away your sight. But you have experience with lenses. You know how to remove them.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
I guided her until her knees were touching the mattress. “Bend over the bed.” I sucked in a husky breath through the voice changer. “Take off your underwear.”
She slid off her bottoms, then leaned over the bed, lying with her wet slit pressed into the mattress. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for me, but not seeing anything. She was shining wet, ready for me. But I had other ideas.
As I lifted my gaze, she stood quickly, ready to take off her paint-stained shirt. I slammed a hand into her back, knocking her down to the bed again. She whimpered.
“I didn’t say take off your top,” I growled. Then I ran my hands down her back, groping her full ass, my fingertips grazing her glistening lower lips. She moved her hips into me, and I smacked her ass hard. She moaned, but it wasn’t enough. The damn gloves were too much padding. It wasn’t the kind of pain I wanted to cause her.
I ran my fingers along her sweet flesh and played with her until she wiggled. But she was careful, making sure to only move her hips the slightest bit. I wanted to lick her. I wanted to taste her so fucking bad, my cock twitched whenever I thought about her slick folds on my tongue. But that wasn’t the kind of punishment Melissa was looking for. We could pretend that this was about what I wanted, but we both knew the truth: Melissa wanted pain, and she was asking me to give it to her.
I moved my damp fingers over her ass, dipping into that tight rosebud.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass before?”
“No,” she breathed.
