A monster is carrying me, and if he murders me, I will be sorry. I wave a floppy hand of agreement at him and discover I’m smiling, stupidly.Ugly monsters, are fiiine.If anything, being in his arms has a weird thrill to it.
It’s more important, more scary, that he made a man with a knife go bye-byes.
That makes my sensible parts awaken.Run!
Screaming will bring no one. Only Molly and Ron are nearby. I wriggle, experimentally, and he tightens his hold without breaking step.
Door opened, door kicked shut. The storm sounds grow softer inside the house.
I burrow my face into my own arm as he strides confidently down the hallway with his gait rocking me, as if he knows where he’s going. He backs through a door. Everything swishes around and around. I need to get sober-er. When the light is switched on, I groan and shade my eyes, wondering why the power is on already. Because it’s past midnight?
And then he speaks…
“A hot shower is needed.”
What? We’re in the bathroom? I struggle to sit up in his arms, but he’s already set me on my feet. Then he’s kneeling and attempting to pull off a sock, but the dampness makes it stick.
He’s already closed the bathroom door, so I decide not totry running, yet. He’s fast and strong. I need to distract himthenrun.
“These come off first.” He slips my parka off my arms and drops it then lifts one foot, hauls off the obstinate sock.
My legs threaten to collapse, and I grab his shoulder. Oh yeah, my plan is so working.
He puts a hand on my…under my…thigh to support me, and desire rolls upward from where that hand dents my leggings. Stunned, I’ve let out a gasp, and I’m staring at him as he starts to remove the other sock.
“Your foot is cold.”
Enthralled by his touch and with my body warming everywhere it shouldn’t, for I’m imagining him doing more than merely touching my feet, I bite my lip, softly. Thinking of him fucking me is just wrong, wrong, wrong. My breathing is labored. I have a death wish. I must have.
I am unquestionably cray-cray.
He’s tossed aside my socks and remained silent, but his fingers have gone from massaging my foot to kneading my thigh, and now…he’s moving his handhigher. I’m having trouble controlling my ridiculous arousal. Mustn’t pant.Slow down, slow down.Must not clench my hand in his shirt where those impressive muscles glide beneath.
Then he lifts his head and studies my face at the same time as he reaches under my dress and hooks his hand into the back of my leggings.Fuuuuck.His warm hand wanders, smoothing across the cleft of my ass. His fingers do not feel like those of a murderer.
He starts to pull my leggings downward, slowly baring me, though my dress still covers my rear.
“Hey. No. No.” My protest comes out low and rough.
I grab his hand through my dress to try to stop him, but it’sas useful as trying to restrain the storm mangling the sky over Revenant. Do I want him to stop? I do, maybe? My pulse wildly ratchets up, and I swallow.
My brain says no.The rest of me is in a meeting.
He turns his face upward. The nightmare, distorted flesh says this night will end with me dissected and spreadeagled on the roof for the crows to eat.
Until…
He cups my naked ass and drags the leggings and my panties past my trembling knees.
And, my pussy says,hell yeah. My lower lips are swelling, and I’m shamefully wet. I’ve not had anyone in my bed for more than a year. It’s that. It’s just that.
My clothes fall to my ankles, and I think they’re accusing me of cooperating.
“Wait,” I croak. “Wait. Please.”
“Why?”
Because. It’s not my reason but I splutter, “I saw you, at the door, the first time, with that other man.”
