Page 22 of Killer Bones

And I’m to die at his hand unless what he said to me, whispered out of earshot of Montez and his men, is the truth.

The deal where I gave him my body.

Even I know it is a gift he already possesses.

“Are you really a k—” He stifles my words by slapping his hand over my mouth. His hand is beneath my nose, his muscled body shifts against me, and a subtle thrill stirs…a snake unwinding. A blight on the stars of my normal existence.

Do I have a death wish?

Unasked, I lick his palm, my tongue slowly gathering his taste from his skin, and he lifts it from me, then winds my hair in his fingers. He almost twists my hair from my scalp and gives a massive jerk.

My neck is taut and curved back by his fist, I wince and open my mouth wide. It’s the same position I used on the woman whose throat I cut.

“Bad girl,” he growls.

With difficulty, I swallow. He wants to know if he can trust me. It’s funny until it isn’t.

“You’re afraid of what I might say.” My voice is hoarse, and I say that so very quietly.

If saying things here is a worry, it will be doubly so at this party. That could be a weapon, except I am sure he will exterminate me on the spot if he suspects I will blurt it out to his enemies…

And that is what he means by trust.

“I am getting tired of waiting. Why do you write about killers?” I hear the smile in his tone then the sound of a zip, feel his fist moving behind my ass. He picks me up and hoists me backward to sit on top of his thighs. “Open.” He slaps my legs wider then puts his cock between them. Hand at the front of my throat, he holds me sitting and close to his chest as his cock thrusts upward. It nudges at me, and almost enters before it slides past.

With teeth, he latches onto the muscle that runs to my shoulder. Those teeth sink in, deep, deeper.

Fuck.

My shoulder spikes with delicious pain and I gasp. His cock pokes again, slips along, catches on my entrance…almost where it needs to be.

Ugh. Lust hits like a freight train, smashing thoughts to splinters.

“Your poor cunt keeps neglecting to swallow me.” He’s teasing me?

He slaps his palm over my clit and pussy, and he keeps it there. The weight of his hand, the circular pressure… He’s definitely teasing me.

Warily, I put my good hand over his, grind my ass into him.

“No.” He taps my clit with a finger. “Direct me, Izzy, and I’ll put a fucking needle through you. Somewhere.”

Oh god. I’m holding my breath.

He pushes my head forward so I can see how his finger touches me, presses, revolves. “Can you not behave?”

“But…” I almost whine for I’m fantasizing.

My kinks are many and evil.

The steel needle slipping into my skin, popping out of me. The well of blood. The pain, the minor gleeful horror, and the slow but sure tang of dark pleasure.

Sadism both repulses and attracts me.

I’m dragged back again, and he slaps my pussy, hard, makes me jump and yelp, but a lustful wave chases the pain so I make a sigh that morphs, quietly, into a moan.

“Oh you little bitch. Pain is your key, your kryptonite.”

His soft laugh, the thrust and withdrawal of his cock that doesn’t quite enter, it’s an intimate insult, a finger sloppy-fucking my brain. If he’d release me, I’d look. I want to see the head of his cock appear down there, jutting, to see my nakedness against him, my arousal coating him. I want to see how he has me in his hands.