Page 33 of My Girl
He lifts his boot. Blood rushes to my fingertips, filling me with warmth. I start to twist my body, complying with his orders. Then I push myself up again, ready to run for the stairs?—
He grabs my stomach, pulling me back. Metal pins spike into each point of contact with him, and I squeal. He turns me around, manipulating me until I’m on the ground underneath him again.
“The hell is that?” I cry.
“Spread your legs,” he demands.
My neck stiffens. It’s stupid to refuse the demands of a murderer, but I know he won’t kill me. If he was going to, he would have done it last night, or the first night, or even ten minutes ago, but he hasn’t yet. I shake my head furiously. Crave grips my thighs, pulling them apart. Thin spikes breach the sheer fabric of my stockings, jabbing my skin.
“Spread your fucking legs,” he murmurs. “Or I will bleed you dry right here.”
I whimper. My legs spread. My brain is empty, stuck on survival. On primal instincts. On lust.
Get him to fuck you,I tell myself.If he fucks you, then you’ll be safe.
But how does that even make sense?
A blinding light flashes. I squint my eyes. After a few seconds, my pupils adjust.
Crave holds my phone over me, the flashlight on the maximum setting. The bright bulb illuminates his mesh, turning his eyes into hollow globes.
He rips off my stockings and thong with his free hand, leaving the skirt bunched up at my waist, then he lowers the flashlight, illuminating my pussy. I bring my legs together, and Crave smacks my thighs with those spiked gloves.
“What? You don’t like it when you’re not in control, little girl?” He tilts his head. “You only like fucking people when you can usethem.But you can’t use me. I’m the one who uses you. I’m the one who owns you now. Isn’t that right, little girl?”
My cheeks flame. “I don’tusepeople.”
“No, you just steal from them.”
Chills cover me from head to toe. How does Crave know that? Has he been watching me without my knowledge?
He unzips his pants, stroking his pierced cock with the same needled gloves, the metal jewelry shifting across his hard length. My mouth salivates, my pussy muscles clenching.
He wants me so badly that he’s handcuffed me. He’s kneeling on the ground and using a flashlight to see my pussy.
I’m powerless and powerful at the same time.
You’re fucking crazy,I think to myself.You can’t be turned on by something like this. He’s fucking with you. Using you. Tricking you. You don’t hurt people. He does! He’s hurting you right now. Messing with your head.
I have to be angry. He has no right to do this.
“Are you stalking me now?” I hiss.
“Me stalking you?” He drops the phone, and the flashlight beams toward the ceiling, giving us extra light. “Is that what you call those surveillance cameras you put up in your own apartment?” I twist to the side, refusing to face him. He continues, “What, little girl? Are you afraid a big bad man will steal from you, just like you stole from him?”
He leans down, licking my clit, slurping it up. The sensation sends shivers up and down my body. He lifts up, still leering at my pussy.
“God, what a selfish little cunt,” he murmurs. “You’re the one who fucked those idiot men and stole their credit cards, who doesn’t see people for anything more than objects. But you’re an object too, aren’t you, baby? You’re just a little toy to be fucked and broken by a man like me. And one day, when I have no use for you, I’ll throw you away. Kill you like the rest of them. And you’ll love it, won’t you? An object discarded. At least your death will give me some amusement.”
Desire incinerates all the logic in my brain, replacing it with tension. At the same time, my blood pressure rises.
“Fuck you,” I say.
“You may hate me, Rae. But this little thing?” He pinches my pussy folds between those spiked gloves. The sharp pain jolts through me. “This meaty little thing needs me. Wants me. Yearns for me.” He traces a finger down my slit. “You’re sopping wet, little girl.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“That’s what this pussy wants, isn’t it? A little cunt like yours, desperate for my rough hands.” He adjusts his touch, pinching a new area of skin, and the pain trickles through me again. “You’re so used to controlling everything, dictating every consensual thing in the bedroom, that now that you’re with me—a man who takes what he wants—you can’t help it, can you? You’re so wet, it’s disgusting.”
