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“Fuck! Let me go!” I yelled at the masked man.
Slowly, the asshole shook his head from side to side, and I squirmed in his hold. The grip only grew tighter and bruised my skin and pulled my hair. The disguised jerk’s dick was hard against my belly, and the smell of cedarwood mixed with whiskey excited me. A fiery pit swirled in me because this was what these fuckers do to me. They awakened emotions I couldn’t deny no matter how hard I pushed them away, and even with their identities concealed, they still did a number on my pussy.
Ghostface took the tip of his blade and brought it up to my neck, but my hands remained at my sides. My rapid breathing made my tits bounce as the steel ran over my tank and skittered across my navel. Slowly, the sharp tip nudged between the drawstring of my silk pajama bottoms, and he cut the thread in half.
Instantly, my bottoms fell to my bare feet, and I gasped at the sudden escalation of the situation. I was now half-naked in front of both men while the slasher ran the knife back up my skin and underneath my tank top. Tingles ignited while fear should have made me quiver, but I was turned on. I hated the feeling, but liked it all at the same time. My body remembered allthe ways they could make me feel, all the unwanted desires they sprang to life. The assholes knew how to please me, but first they must cause me pain.
“Slice me. Go on, do it. End this torturous intoxication you both put me through,” I hissed with need and reached up to touch the handle.
The fucker fought me; I’d caught him off guard as his breathing picked up a notch. He didn’t expect me to react in such a dangerous way, but they brought out the worst in me. A feverish feminine brute who was confused, but her mind was fogged by lust.
My phantom groaned as he gave up the fight, and I inhaled sharply as the blade skimmed the surface of my skin. The cut wasn’t too deep as the steel tip ran up the middle of my abdomen and blood trickled downward. Drips slowly pooled into my belly button and fell down below. The red surely mixed with the juices my pussy had produced from my untamed arousal.
I released the pressure on the knife as my phantom stopped skimming the blade across the surface and trailed over the top of my white shirt. I watched as the bright stain ran from one hard nipple to the next. The blade teased me as I bit down into my attacker’s flesh, and he snarled when my teeth clamped down. The sound ignited a fiery need in the pit of my stomach, and I released my teeth from him as I felt hands on my ass. They squeezed tight, and I instantly bit downagain while the slasher hissed from above. His massive erection pulsated against me.
I freed my mouth from him and breathed, “Again.”
The knife trailed back down toward the cut I had helped him inflict on me, and the masked jerk behind me slapped my ass. The motion made me arch my back, and the blade drew fresh blood, but from a tiny nick right beside the longer cut. A whimpered hiss escaped my lips with my head thrown back and my eyes wide open, trained on my phantom’s disguised face. I found the long black hooded eyes to be a horrific sight, but they fired me up. Underneath all my layers, I kept a wild creature hidden, but I was a sick fuck. I was as screwed up as them, and I didn’t realize it until now.
“Enough!” I exclaimed, but the blade cut short my realization as it departed from my skin and propelled me backward—into the arms of my other phantom.
Thirty-Three
Their Obsession
Liv
Ghostface slightly tilted his head to the side as the mask moved downward and slowly back up. He admired his work and my body being all fused up. Pent-up sexual tension surged from me as I panted with unruly, wispy hairs sucking in and out of my mouth. I quivered, but not out of fear. Out of undeniable want that I hated to admit was there, but it was all I could feel.
I examined the slasher the same way he had me and took in his dark attire. A black V-neck shirt displayed his ink and made him deliciously dangerous. His muscles were pronounced they bulged from under his shirt. The man was incredibly ripped in black denim jeans and black boots that he wore in a leisurely, untied manner.
“Did your mother never teach you to tie your shoes?” The question blurted from me before I could stop it.
Call me stupid, call me foolish. Hell, call me a dumb bitch, but this was what my phantoms did to me. They made me lose all hold on reality, questioning all my morals and seeking only them. I was on the brink of collapse and, piece by piece, I’d fall, bound to perish with their arms around me, never letting me go. But it was within their embraces, they’d piece me back together, leave me begging, and make me whole.
He peered at his feet and ignored my stupidity, but I could envision a sexy grin on his face. One I’d want to hit until he grabbed me by the throat and made me bleed again. Maybe slice deeper and make this pain go away—the never-ending ache they granted me that exists right between my damn legs.
Instead, Ghostface looked up and calmly leaned forward. His motion was cruel and excruciating as thoughts ran wildly through my head. He touched the tip of his finger against the end of the blade and pricked it into his skin. I watched as he didn’t even flinch, and his blood mixed with my own that was still left on the steel.
Sin pointed the blade at me and said, “Be a good girl and open your pretty mouth for Daddy.”
I clamped my mouth shut, pressed my lips together and wouldn’t open up. If memory served me right, they’d stick something in there. So, I zipped up tight.
Saint harshly gripped the back of my neck until I peered up into his skulled disguise, “Don’t fight us now. Open up, darling.”
“Mh-mh,” I answered with a closed mouth and shook my head.
“Fine. Be a sassy brat,” Sin snarled with irritation and grabbed my face.
His fingers dug into my cheeks and pressed them together. I maintained my reluctance, but he forcefully opened my mouth. Saint exposed my wet hole by shoving the black baton between my lips, causing my eyes to widen. He pushed the wand right down until the end hit my gag reflex and my eyesight grew watery. Saliva pooled up and dripped out from the sides of my mouth while the men groaned at the sight of me. All slippery and extremely wet.
“Assholes!” I choked out with a cough when Saint removed his baton from my mouth.
Sin only let up his hold on my cheeks for a second while Saint let go of me and before I knew it, Sin gripped my face again tightly until I winced from the pain. He didn’t stop there and pulled me forward toward the island while he walked around to the other side. I squeaked as he yanked me until my chest hit thecountertop and I faced him. His mask was only mere inches from my face as I felt the heat come off him.
I was dizzy, delusional, and stuck. Trapped with Sin’s blade back against my delicate flesh and the sharp steel nipped at my neck. The tip ran along my thudding pulse until the blade rested along my curved neckline. He could slice me open if he wanted to. Kill me on the spot and my phantoms could bask in all my red, fiery blood. But I knew I wouldn’t get that lucky. Because they wanted me alive, where my blood flowed through me and they’d make me drip whenever they desired. Or whenever I made them. Which made me fucking crazy.
“Spread your thighs, little obsession,” Sin ordered from behind his mask.
