I scream.
It’s black and white, its long legs crawling over my skin.
Panic explodes through me.
I scream again and fling it onto the bed, jumping back, my heart pounding as I lose sight of it.
Suddenly, his hand is at my neck. He pushes me down onto the mattress.
“Fear is for the weak,” he says, his nose brushing my hair as he inhales me.
He shoves me farther up the bed, his knees forcing my legs apart.
“Are you weak, Emily?” he growls against my skin. His voice reaches my ear and pulls a gasp from my throat.
I shake my head.
He pins my wrists above my head. His mouth finds my neck, kisses turning slow as he moves downward. I am already naked beneath him, nothing in his way, nothing to stop him from taking me again.
He leans into me, twisting his head as his face rubs against my skin. He trails lower, his breath ghosting over my stomach, every nerve ending screaming as I wait for what comes next.
I gasp as my eyes fly open, the spider crawling back toward my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, trapping my scream in my chest as his laughter fills the room.
He gets up, plucks the spider away, then places it on my chest. It crawls over my skin, and I gasp, my body shaking.
He nudges it with two fingers, guiding it as it moves across me while I remain frozen. His voice drops to a whisper against my skin.
“Itsy-bitsy spider, up and down he goes.”
He moves it closer to my face, whispering against my ear.
“Itsy-bitsy spider, up your face he goes, counting every shiver, nice and slow.”
He chuckles and guides the spider back toward my breast. In the blink of an eye, he slaps my chest, and the spider is gone.
He grabs the sheet and wipes my breast clean as he sings softly, “Itsy-bitsy spider, got killed by a big bad wolf.”
My body trembles. I am not sure if it is from the sting of the slap or the relief that the spider is finally gone.
I close my eyes, swallowing hard as Zayne leans closer to my face.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers. “Scared?”
His eyes lock onto mine, his mouth curling with a quiet chuckle.
I nod, my body still shaking.
He doesn’t give a shit.
He giggles as his head lowers between my thighs.
“You are the poison that makes my mind sick,” he says, tapping his forehead with his palm. He leans closer to my throbbing pussy and looks up at me. “You are the food that feeds my sick psyche.”
He laughs softly, then looks down again. “And I want to eat you up.”
He pulls me lower, spreading my legs wider, and buries his mouth against me. I gasp as he opens me fully, his tongue tracing slow circles from my clit down to my slick flesh. His teeth drag lightly, consuming me completely.
I swallow hard as my fingers tangle in his dark hair, gripping tight.
