“I’ve never fucked a monster before,” he murmurs, savoring the idea. “But tonight? I’ll make an exception. No power. Virgin. Andsofucking pretty.”
What the hell?
Monster?
Does this lunatic actually think I’m one of the things from his deranged little cult?
He didn’t just pick a random girl.
He pickedme.
He wrenches my head back again, so hard I swear something in my neck nearly snaps. His other hand slowly trails down my body. Squeezing. Testing. Then—
He reaches for my jeans. Pressure. A snap. Then the slow scrape of metal sliding down.
“Fuck, yes, little monster,” he whispers, desecration thick in his voice.
He pushes my jeans down my thighs. Then his hand slips inside my underwear. He forces two fingers into me. It’s sudden and cruel … and meant to hurt.
If I could scream, I would.
“Not wet for me yet?” His voice drips with amusement. “Shh, baby girl. It’s fine. You’ll get there. They always do.”
The world spins as he shifts me in his lap, fingers withdrawing, then forcing their way into my mouth. Three fingers shove inside, pushing too deep, pressing my tongue down.
I choke, throat locking hard around the intrusion. Saliva floods my mouth. He groans as my lips stretch around his knuckles. His fingers press deeper, down my throat, past the point of breathing.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Fuck, that’s what I wanted. Gag for me, baby girl. Just like that.”
He works them inside my mouth, fucking my throat with his fingers, watching every twitch, every helpless reaction.
My body rebels, trying to fight.
He smiles, gentle and unhurried, like this is something we’re doing together.
And then, just as abruptly as he started, he pulls his fingers free. Strings of saliva stretch from my lips to his hand.
He pants, chest trembling. His pupils devour me, tracking the spit still on his hand.
He shoves his fingers between my legs. This time, they slide in more easily.
A wet, perverse groan spills from his lips.
“There we go.” He sounds fuckingdelighted. “Finally getting wet for me.”
I’m not. IknowI’m not. But he wants it to be true.
“Christ, you’re tight. I could split you open right now, baby girl. But …” He sighs, almost disappointed. “Can’t risk you getting those powers.”
What fucking powers?
Jameson clearly drank the Flavor Aid and lost his fucking mind.
He yanks my head up like I’m prey, something he caught. Then he roughly shoves his fingers inside me—again and again. He wants to break me from the inside out. I’m just a hole for him, a place to leave his filth.
I feel it—sharp, splitting pain—but my body stays limp. Useless.
Traitorous tears slide over my temples and pool in my ears. I won’t let him see fear.I won’t. So, I hold his gaze. Unblinking and silent.
