“I said open your eyes,” he growled, his fingers digging into my chin.
I whimpered, slowly cracking my eyes open. A loud gasp tore from my throat, a gentle stagger backward but he yanked me back until my body was pressing impossibly against the lean muscles.
The mask was still on his face and closer, it looked more grotesque. My heart pounded, blood rushing in my ears.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he taunted, head tilting as if listening more closely. “I can taste your fear.”
Rain trickled down my temples, cold as ice, mixing with the sweat beading at my nape. My lashes were heavy, soaked, but I forced my eyes to stay open, refusing to blink.
“Little witch.”
A breath shuddered out of me at the name, the ridiculous, endearing thing he had often called me.
“Tonight, I’ll eat all your tears, all your screams, and the horror in those pretty eyes.”
His knuckles brushed my cheek, ice-cold, sending a tremor through me. The other hand trailed lower, over soaked fabric and trembling flesh, until it cupped my ass.
The mixture of adrenaline and desire turned electric inside me, sizzling beneath my skin as rain beat down in relentless torrents.
A gasp tore from my throat when he flipped me, forcing me down onto my knees over the nameless, barely standing gravestone. The stone dug into my palms as I caught myself, wet soil yielding beneath my fingers.
A tug, firm but measured, guided me forward, my hands sinking into the earth while my hips were raised.
The air shifted behind me, thick with heat and something more dangerous.
I barely breathed as he kneeled, his fingers catching the hem of my skirt, rolling it up my waist in one slow, deliberate motion.
A gust of cold air kissed my exposed skin before my soaked panties were yanked down, the elastic biting at my thighs.
“Don’t make a sound, Mrs. Raskov.” His body pressed flush against mine, his lips at my ear, his voice a ghostly rasp. “They like it quiet around here.”
A fist tangled in my hair, jerking my head back as a sharp whimper caught in my throat.
The night felt alive around us, the trees whispering, the rain murmuring, the graves holding their breath.
Then I felt it; his cock gliding over me, teasing, brushing against my heat before dragging lower.
A violent shiver wracked through my arms as he pushed inside, stretching me in one hard thrust, knocking a moan loose from my lips.
“Oh, my god.”
My fingers clawed at the dirt as he pulled out and slammed back into me, each thrust harder, deeper, more punishing.
The storm inside me built; an intoxicating mixture of fear, arousal, and the forbidden.
Tears clung to my lashes, or maybe it was the rain, maybe it was everything all at once; the weight of the night, the grave beneath me, the ghostly figure behind me claiming me like I belonged to him.
I tightened around him, my body betraying every ounce of sense I once had, every warning I should have heeded.
His voice was a low snarl at my ear, dragging me deeper into the abyss. “Next time a ghost comes out of the shadows to scare you…” He thrust into me harder, punctuating each word, each sinful promise. “Remember how you were fucked by one. Andremember how you came apart, dripping all over your mother’s grave.”
What?
My what?
“Yes, Beth Raskov,” he rasped, his voice wrapped in smoke as he slammed into me, his nails digging into my hip. “You’re currently being fucked like a slut on the grave of your dear mother.”
He thrust harder, his breath thick with cruelty, searing the shell of my ears. My heart raced, an itch pressing into my eyes.
