I feel her breath uneven and quick beneath me, her chest heaving. “Make it hurt,” she whispers.
A nightmare come true.
“I always make it hurt, Ella,” I promise her, trailing my mouth down over her collarbone, the knife still to her throat so she doesn’t move. I push her jacket apart, giving me better access.
She sighs as my tongue dips down into her bra, gliding over her hard nipple. “Then make it dangerous.”
I freeze, my lips on the smooth curve of her breast. My anger shifts to something else. “How dangerous?” I ask her, my heart pounding so fast I can barely get the words out. I already have a knife to her throat. Just how far is she going to let me go?
“How do you feel about necrophilia?” she whispers, no humor in her words. I think about that bone in her hands. The one she held to my cheek.
I’m about to come in my pants, and I haven’t even taken my dick out yet. Who is this girl? “I don’t have many hard limits, kid,” I manage to choke out against her skin. Does she want me to kill her? A small part of my brain tells me this could be a trap. A rape allegation waiting to happen. But a bigger part of my brain—or maybe just my dick—is telling me I’ve hit the fucking jackpot.
She laughs and I bite her again, her laughter dying into a whimper. I push myself against her stomach, running my tongue between her chest, giving attention to her other nipple, biting it gently as it hardens in my mouth.
Another firework goes off, and this time I hear it explode in the sky. It’s not a practice. It’s the real thing. Green shimmers above our heads, and blue follows.
Perfect timing. If she starts screaming, no one will hear her.
“How old are you?” I make myself ask, glancing up at her, her nipple still in my mouth. She can’t see me from this angle, the way I’m still holding the knife, but I can see her.
“You don’t care about fucking dead bodies,” she says a little breathlessly, “but you’re worried I’m underage?”
Red sparks above our heads.
I suck her between my teeth, and she hisses, her eyes falling closed. “Just answer the fucking question.”
“Nineteen,” she whispers, and I toss the knife away, coming up on all fours, her body trapped beneath me.
She looks up at me, a smile on her lips, but she looks vulnerable, too. I like it.
“Nineteen, huh?” She’ll be the youngest pussy I’ve had in a while.
She nods. Red explodes above our head again as I glance up. I see the moon as the sparks of light disappear.
When I look back at her, I can’t read the expression on her face. Is this a fucking setup? Do I care enough to stop? I just ran after her. Tackled her to the ground. Held a knife to her throat.
She doesn’t care.
“Did you come here with just Natalie?” I ask her, trying to keep my voice even. “Is there some poor boy back there that’s going to be missing you?”
She just smirks up at me.
“You probably wouldn’t care, would you? You probably want me more, don’t you? You know that I’ll fuck you better.”
She bites her lip, doesn’t say a word. I want to destroy her.
I dive down, run my lips over her cheek, around to her mouth. A wet, sloppy kiss. “What’s wrong with you, Ella Christian? Why’re you so fucked up?”
She laughs, her body straining against me, her hands still over her head even though I’m not forcing them there. Still, no answer.
The world seems to spin a little as more fireworks pop off, one after another. I wonder if I should stop. I wonder if she really is crazy. But fuck it. I just killed someone. This would be the least of my crimes tonight.
She bucks her hips against me, and I bite her lip, feeling the skin give way against my teeth, tasting her blood in my mouth. She gasps, but she presses harder against me.
I run my tongue over her lips, my fingers clamping down on her bare thigh beneath her dress, over her socks. “You sure you want this?” I prod her, wondering if I’d stop. “You don’t even know me.”
She spreads her legs wider, and my fingers brush against her damp panties. She shivers, her breath catching for a second right before another firework explodes.
And then she says, “I don’t want to know you.”
Perfect.
I push her panties aside, slide my finger up her wet slit, circling her clit, wondering how she’d feel if she knew I just had a dead woman’s blood on my hands. But her eyes are closed tight, her throat arching upward as she moans, clouds of cold coming from her lips. I put my hand around her throat.
She wants to get lost. For some reason, she wants to disappear.
So do I.
As another firework sparks above us, she suddenly grabs my hand, her eyes wide. I still, wondering if she’s about to try to tell me to stop. Wondering if I’ll be able to.
“Hit me,” she whispers. Her voice sounds…choked. I feel her swallow, and I don’t know if it’s just the green fireworks exploding overhead that make it look like she’s got tears in her eyes, or if they’re real.
I feel my blood hot in my veins, my chest constricting. “What?”
The logical part of my brain tries to tell me to get away. She’s nineteen. Goes to a school for people with…problems. I don’t know shit about her. She’s already spread her legs for me, hasn’t screamed yet.
She’s either fucking insane or she’s setting me up.
But all the blood has rushed to my cock and I feel like I’m going to explode. Besides that, I chased her. If she’s insane…well, so am I.
“You heard me,” she taunts me, her eyes narrowed, her red painted nails digging into the hand I’ve got at her throat. I slide my finger down her slit, tease her wet opening. She takes a shuddering breath, but she doesn’t lie back. “Please.”
I shake my head. “Nu uh.” I push two fingers inside of her tight pussy, and I want my hand back so I can unbutton my jeans. “Ella, you don’t know what you’re—”
She drops my hand, and with my fingers still inside of her, as another firework explodes over us, she fucking slaps me.
My head snaps to the side, my face on fire. She didn’t hold back, and I know she did it so I’d feel exactly like this: Pissed the fuck off.
It feels good to be angry. Even better to have someone to take it out on.
Before I can think, I add another finger inside of her, stretching them and her. Her legs shake beneath me, a strangled moan coming from her throat, but when I turn my gaze back to her, she’s still staring right at me, propped up on her elbows.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask her, fingerfucking her harder than I should. Her body jolts with each thrust, her lips parted as she stares at me, something like fear in her gaze.
Good. She should be fucking scared of me.
When she doesn’t answer me, I grab her shirt, pulling her up so we’re nose-to-nose. “When I ask you a question, fucking answer me.”
She’s breathing hard, and her breath smells like alcohol. I realize she’s too young to drink, and then I realize I don’t give a fuck. Giving alcohol to minors seems like the most charitable thing I’ve done in the past few hours, so fuck it.
“Please,” she begs me again, a moan coming out at the end of the word. I want to stuff my whole fucking fist inside of her for slapping me, but I don’t think I actually could, not without ripping her apart, so I keep the three fingers in her, twisting them around as her eyes nearly roll back in her fucking head. “Please, hit me.”