Page 87 of Cruel Shame

I lay as still as I could while he sliced at the ropes, panting over me like a salivating dog. He turned me onto my side and ran his palm over my breasts, murmuring that I was even more beautiful than Abby.

My lips tightened into a straight line. A moment ago, he called me a whore. Funny how these psychopathic types flipped their morals when with a girl willing to give them a chance.

The moment the ropes loosened their grip on my strained muscles, I melted onto the planks with a relieved groan.

“Get up,” he snapped.

“Help me,” I murmured. This wasn’t even part of my trap. Holding that position for ages had overstretched my muscles.

Father Neapolitan slipped the penknife into his pocket and offered me a hand. I wanted to spit on it and watch him dance around in disgust like a twat, but I had to say calm for my plan. I wrapped my fingers around his and let him pull me to my feet.

I stood, and a head rush had me reeling on my feet and teetering forward. Father Neapolitan caught me by the waist and held me steady.

“Easy,” he said, his voice gentle.

Right now, I was in no position to escape. I held onto his shoulders, breathing hard. “Have you done this before? You seemed like a professional.”

“Once or twice,” he said with a chuckle.

“Wow.” I bent over double. “Let me catch my breath.”

For a stalker who drugged and trussed women up, he was surprisingly patient at the prospect of having a girl touch him of her own volition. I tried to puzzle out if there was something in the Liddell gene pool that turned them all insane or if it was just something about the way they were brought up. Since I was more of a Liddell than Elizabeth, did that mean it was only a matter of time before I did something crazy?

Father Neapolitan cupped my cheeks with his clammy hands and smiled. The expression was more of a baring of the teeth, but when I forced a smile back, his eyes softened. With a low groan, Father Neapolitan leaned forward to capture my lips in a kiss.

I flinched back. “Whore? Remember.”

His eyes widened. “Of course.”

That knife was going to be a problem. I needed to divest him off that coat. “Let’s see what you’re hiding underneath all that fabric.” He placed a hand over his chest, I made a disappointed hum and placed my hands over his nipples. “It’s only fair, since I’m naked.”

He let out a shuddering breath, and pressed his emaciated organ protruding against my belly. “As you wish.”

With trembling hands, I unbuttoned his coat and pulled it off his shoulders. It fell to the attic floor with a clunk, making me wonder if he had a gun.

“Alright,” I whispered, trying to sound seductive, when all I wanted to do was hurl. “Lie back and let me ride you like a wild stallion.”

“Stallion,” he whispered, and flopped down beside his coat.

I moved it out from underneath him and placed my fingertips on his nipples. Father Neapolitan closed his eyes and groaned, the deep sound making my stomach muscles reverberate with disgust.

“Ride me,” he purred.

Trailing one hand down his sparse smattering of chest hair, I grabbed the coat with the other, ready to spring to my feet. As soon as I reached his crotch, I curled my hand into a fist and punched his balls with every ounce of my strength.

Father Neapolitan jerked up with an almighty howl. I scrambled to my feet, threw the coat over my naked body, bolted to the door, and flung it open—

Only to meet Lady Liddell standing in the attic stairwell with a gun.

Chapter Thirty-Three

My eyes locked with Lady Liddell’s, and a gasp caught in my throat. If it wasn’t for the false eyelashes and oversized lips, I might never have recognized the woman. She wore a gray tracksuit with a hooded top, looking like she’d just spent an afternoon jogging.

A blast of cold air from outside blew up the stairwell across my bare skin, making it pucker into goosebumps. I clenched my teeth to stop them from chattering.

Lady Liddell swept her gaze down the entire length of my naked body and back up to the rope still attached around my limbs and snarled. “Get back inside.”

I swallowed. Right now, a homicidal woman with a gun was preferable to what was waiting for me inside that attic.