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I brush my lips against hers. It’s like the first night I met her all over again. On her knees, bottom lip wobbling in fear. I wanted to break her back then, and now I want to break her even more. Her breath hitches the moment my lips brush against hers, and I tighten my grip to the point of leaving a bruise, just in case she has the means to escape.
I force my tongue against hers, cutting off her airway.
I eat away at her resistance.
Hell, I want to devour her until her very last breath.
Which might be sooner then she realizes.
8
ARA
Ican hardly breathe, and my heart is an erratic rhythm as Luca’s threat devours me.
It’s also hot and heavy. A little sickening. I don’t know how to stop its consumption.
In here he can do anything he wants to me. And to resist Luca Armani only brings his monster to the forefront.
He likes the struggle. Wants the fight. I’m still not entirely sure why he hasn’t killed me yet. Still, I can’t resist my own compulsion to see this through. Even if it kills me.
He bites down on my bottom lip, his other hand grazing beneath my loose sweater. I can’t move; I’m pinned beneath him. Then something more deplorable happens. Warmth floods my core.
No. I’m not attracted to this.
His firm grip twists and pulls at my breast through a thin bralette, and a small moan escapes me. The moment it does, his grip tightens around my throat, and this time a new dread fills me.
I can’t breathe.
Panic takes over, and for the first time in a long time, I’m taken back into that room at twelve years old. Back into my family home. Dark brown—almost black—eyes staring at me through a mask, promising nothing but death. I thought I’d shut out those memories. I thought I left them behind in that house when I promised myself I’d never fear death or another human ever again.
Luca promises it. Wants it. He considers me as my eyes water, and now I try to fight, clawing at his hands. His other hand continues to assault my breast and then slides into my baggy sweatpants. Fuck, is he really going to take everything from me right now?
I try to slap the hand away, but he nudges against me with such force the friction begins to bring an unsettling pleasure. His massive hands begin to rub the fabric of my panties, pinching through them as he takes and takes. I can feel myself building. Uncomfortable in the realization my body is reacting to him.
My gaze is locked on his. The mask completely gone. This is the cruelty I’ve been tracking for months. This, right here, is the monster exposed. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it, Ara?” he asks with a cruel smile. “To see me up close?”
My sight begins to fade in and out. Fuck, this can’t be the end.
After everything I’ve done to get to this point. I have to see this through to the end. This was the only thing to give me purpose for the last fourteen years. And it led me to this…
Luca releases his grip, and I gasp for my first breath in what feels like forever. He pulls away, clearly disgusted. “This atrocious getup should not be a turn on, Ara.”
I’m gasping, but when I look up, I see how hard he is, his cock pressing against his dress pants. I can’t help but lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I realize now, this is what he wanted from me upon our first encounter in his family mansion. The fear. Real fear.
He repositions his uncomfortable cock. “Do you understand now?” he asks, a trail of calm back in his tone. “I can, at any point, end you, my little stalker.” He begins to undo his belt and my eyes are glued to the action. “You want this, don’t you, Ara? Hiding behind a lens and sneaking around in the shadows. You like the thrill.”
“That’s not true,” I rasp.
“Then explain why you’re soaking wet for me.” He raises his hand to his lips, his tongue gliding along it satisfied. His hand freezes at the top of his zipper as he leans forward again. I’m in a trance. I can’t run away from him. It terrifies me how my pussy throbs. I’m disgusted with myself.
He forces two fingers into my mouth, looming over me as he appraises me. His fingers reach the back of my throat, forcing me to gag. I can taste myself as they glide against my tongue time and time again. His gaze is dark and unreadable. I don’t know if he’s turned on or if he wants to break me. Most likely both.
I hate my treacherous body. He’s taken every bit of my control. I know I can fight back, but only if I really do want to die tonight.
“The wigs you wear and this fake get up,” he purrs. It doesn’t even sound like his usual clipped tone. This is the side no one within our social circles sees. If they did…they would never approach him again. He is all consuming and malice. The devil reincarnated. “I wonder who you’re trying to be? If I had to guess, you’re trying to be my filthy little whore.”
“I’m not your anything.”
