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I’m absolutely desperate to keep away from him, so I force myself to keep going. He’s older than me. Surely he can’t keep this up much longer.
I break through the thick growth and run into a chain-link fence on the edge of the property. The foliage camouflages it, but it gave the familiar rattle when my body careered into it. My fingers grip the metal loops as I run along the length of the fence, hoping to find an opening big enough for me but too small for him. It’s too tall for me to climb, and with his muscles, he’d probably clear it with ease.
I’m so focused on finding a break in the fence that I don’t realize I’ve come to the end of this side until I slam into the panel running the other direction. I’ve run out of room.
I’m cornered.
In a desperate attempt to escape him, I grip the fence and try to climb. Hand over hand, foot over foot, I grip the spaces between the metal and haul myself upward. From sheer fear and willpower, I make it to the top. Tears spring to my eyes as I hoist my leg over the top railing. I only need to get my other leg over, and then?—
Firm fingers close around my ankle and rip me downward. My crotch slams onto the top of the fence, and a scream rips from me as the metal meets my pelvic bone. But there’s no time to wallow in the anguish because he’s pulling me back down. I send my foot into his face, and he groans, seemingly enjoying the pain I’m causing him.
“If you think I like tears, imagine how much I love blood,” he growls as a trail of red trickles from his lower lip. “This is all just foreplay, eighty.”
My hands bleed from clawing at the fence, which only makes it more difficult to hang on. It’s like trying to grip something after smearing your palms with oil. Strength exits my body with each breath, and I have nothing left to give as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to the ground.
His hands pin my arms to the cool grass. When his face nears mine, I spit in it. The moment I do, he spits back, and his blood-tinged saliva lands on my cheek.
“Stop, please!” I scream as I writhe beneath him.
He swipes the spit from his face. “I thought I was pretty fucking nice to you. You weren’t hurt by what we did back in the truck, so why’d you have to go and make me chase you, huh?”
“Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
“It’s a bit late for that. I can’t let you go now that I’ve seen how terrified you are. I drink up fear like it’s liquor. Right now, you’re a bottle of Everclear.” He takes a deep breath before leaning over and licking the spit and blood from my cheek. “And I’m a fucking alcoholic tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, though I don’t regret trying to escape. I’m just sorry I got caught. “Just don’t kill me. Please.”
“Kill you? I have no plans to kill you. I had something else in mind. Will you be a good little whore and let me play, eighty?”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Because it’s the cost to take all of you. Mouth, pussy, ass. Whatever I want. It’s how much you charge to let men like me do anything to you.” He sits up, keeping his weight on my hips, and draws the money from his pocket before tossing it on my chest. The bills catch a slight breeze and try to flitter away.
If I reach for the money, I’m agreeing to let him do what he wants, and part of me wants to let the money float out of reach. A large part of me. But he’ll do whatever he wants, even if I don’t take the cash.
I reach for the bills, grabbing all but one of the twenties that’s flown just a finger’s length out of reach. He leans forward, grips the last bill, and shoves it against my chest.
“Fine,” I whisper as I accept the last twenty and tuck the money into my bra.
Kane...Tobin—whoever it fucking is—strips off his shirt. A multitude of tattoos covers his torso. I can’t make out the individual images beneath the moonlight, but I can see the glint of a knife as he pulls it from his waistband. My hands immediately go up, expecting him to attack me, but he lifts the blade and slices into his own chest. A soft groan vibrates his throat as he pulls the knife away from his skin, then fists my hair and pulls me up to his chest.
“Lick my blood,” he growls as he pulls my face toward his skin.
My tongue touches the thin red line, and a metallic taste races over my tastebuds. He pushes the back of my head and grinds my face into his cut as if it’s not enough for me to taste it. He wants to cover me with it. And he does. Warm liquid coats my face, growing sticky as it dries.
He pushes me onto my back and raises my skirt. Blood splatters on me as he leans over and pulls my underwear away from my body. Using the knife, he cuts through my panties. Warm blood drips onto my pussy, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel good.
But then I feel the stiff metal blade as he grazes my slit.
Panic ratchets through me as he spreads me with one hand and puts the blade inside me with the other. It’s not big, but that doesn’t matter. If I move a single muscle, I’ll cut myself a second vagina.
“Please get that out of me.” A tear falls from the corner of my eye.
“When you’re wet like you are from my blood, a small blade like this does nothing to you. It goes in and out so smoothly. But when you’re dry? That’s when it cuts.” The blade moves in and out of me again. “As long as you stay still and don’t tense up, you’ll be just fine.”
He fucks me with the blade, and he’s much gentler than I expect him to be. Especially after that chase. But then he pulls it out of me, turns it around, and grips the blade in his powerful hand instead. He winces as it sinks into the meat of his palm, but he doesn’t seem otherwise fazed.
Then he sinks the handle inside me, and all gentleness evaporates.
