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“No? Even though you know what I am capable of?”
“I thought you didn’t kill them?” I ask.
“No power means no video,” he reminds me, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “No audio… I can do whatever I want, and there will be no one to save you.”
“You’re just trying to scare me,” I object.
“You wanted to know so badly,” he says. “Go ahead. Ask.”
I don’t say anything at first, because he’s right. It would be my word against his. We both know he can manipulate himself out of a supposed confession.
“Did you kill them?” I ask after a moment of silence.
“I did,” he says, still speaking softly. “Tell me something, Nora… Why are your thighs pressed together right now?”
“Let go of me,” I growl, trying to shove him away again. He lets me fight against him but ends up tightening his grip on my throat until I can’t breathe. When I stop moving, he loosens.
“You aren’t aroused, are you?”
“Stop it!” I demand.
“Let’s see…” he says, unbuttoning my pants with one flick of his wrist.
“Gabriel,” I say quickly. He slips his hand into my panties, and he kicks my feet apart so he can abruptly shove two fingers into my pussy. “Fuck!”
“Mmm,” he rumbles. “This changes things.”
“Gabriel,” I whimper as he slowly moves his fingers inside of me. “Wait, I…”
“Are you always this fucking wet for your boyfriend, or is it the fear that has your cunt dripping?” he asks.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp when his palm rubs my clit.
“Do you want to know how they died, Nora?” he asks.
“Yes,” I moan. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
“Martha,” he purrs. “She was stronger than she looked… I started by whipping her with a belt. She screamed until her voice gave out.”
“Fucking sick!” I snap.
“I wanted to know how much a human could take before giving up,” he says, his fingers working my pussy beautifully. Why is my body responding to him? It’s not just what he’s doing physically, but his voice. His goddamn voice in my ear is doing something to my brain.
“Please,” I beg, but I don’t know what I’m begging for. To stop? To make me come?
“Martha took every hit without a single tear,” he says. “Oh, but when faced with uncontrollable orgasms, she wept and begged. Still, she didn’t beg for death. I started removing her fingers, one joint at a time. She kept begging for mercy.”
“You’re fucking sick!” I growl, my thighs trembling.
“She fought until the very end, Nora. Until her heart gave out, she never stopped begging for life.”
“What else?” I ask, and he chuckles. Why the fuck did I ask that? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Tell me… when you left the first day… You got angry,” he says. “What did you imagine?”
“Bashing your fucking face into the table,” I snap.
“Good girl. What else would you do?” he asks, curling his fingers inside me. My moan is pitiful, and I find myself rocking my hips.
