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Less than three feet apart. My feet are still planted where I stopped.
A hiccuped sound startles me. Reaching up, I find my cheeks wet. Andrew isn’t the only one crying. But he’s the only one begging.
I don’t say a word. I don’t plead for him or beg the stranger to stop. Instead, I continue to stand here.
Watching.
The man before me smiles. His hand wraps around the hilt, the blade sliding free of Andrew’s lower back. Standing straight, his feet on either side of the writhing body on the forest floor, he surveys me.
His eyes wander, making me feel more exposed than the cold wind ever could. My skin is flushed despite my body shivering.
His right leg swings over Andrew, and he walks closer. Confidently, he approaches, the bloody knife dripping at his side. His left hand shoots out, gripping my chin, and his fingers are surprisingly gentle as he holds me still.
Forcing me to meet his eyes, he smiles, the dry paint making his white teeth pop more. He looks almost wolfish, ready to devour me.
My eyes drop to his lips at the thought. It only makes him smile harder.
Tilting my head back, he slams his mouth down onto mine. This time, his touch is anything but gentle. His fingertips are harsh, and his lips cruel. Teeth attack my bottom lip, punishing me when I refuse entrance. But my denial doesn’t last long.
His tongue attacks my own. He takes charge, owning my mouth. My body isn’t my own. It takes everything I have not to respond, but a small moan still escapes.
The kiss turns to small pecks, insistent and repetitive. Slowly, they trail across my cheek and down my neck.
The angle he holds me at is painful, but I make no move to stop him. My arms stay at my side, my fingers twitching. If I reach out, I know it’ll be to pull him closer, not to push him away.
His taller frame hunches slightly, his lips still attacking my skin. He slows as he nears the base of my neck.
Pain rips through me, and my scream punctuates the air. His teeth latch on bruisingly tight. Painful and erotic.
My arms shoot up to push him away, my hands shove at the front of his body, but he’s a wall of muscle. His abs ripple under my palms.
His teeth finally release me, and his head pulls back to look down at me. The grip on my chin lowers to my throat.
There’s no hiding my reaction. My chest heaves, my breasts brushing him with every inhale. My beaded nipples stand out even in the dark, my bra doing nothing to hide my arousal.
At least he can’t tell how wet I am.
His blue gaze roams me again, a smirk taking over his face.
Maybe he does know.I glare.
Shame fills me at my body’s response.What the fuck is wrong with me?
My eyes drop to his straining cock, the bulge in his trousers obvious. My inner walls flutter with want.
We’re both sick.
The hand on my neck tightens when I gulp. His thumb rubs back and forth, his gaze narrowing.
I shuffle when he steps back, my chest expanding with a loud breath.
“Stay,” he demands, pointing at my feet.
But it’s too late. Panic and disgust roll through me, and I need to leave, to get somewhere safe before I do something that can never be taken back. Like fucking the man who’s killing my stepfather.The man who saved me.
I push that thought away because the night’s not over yet.What if I’m his next victim?
My stomach roils, and my feet move of their own accord. My tired body protests as I run. My heart drops when I don’t hear footsteps behind me, but before I can dwell on what that means, something shoots past me, embedding itself into the tree to my right.
