Her heart is beating a mile a minute. I can read people like fuckin’ books. People wear their emotions on their sleeve. Doesn’t take much to sense fear.
I wait patiently to see if she’ll obey. “Please show me, Zain,” she whispers.
Too low. I force her to repeat it. Wanna remember this. “Louder,” I growl, gripping the handle so tightly my hand shakes.
“Show me pleasure, Zain.” Her eyes search mine for some sense of security. Instead of being her savior, I’m her demise.
A wicked smirk plays over my face. Don’t need to tell me twice.
I slam my body against hers, placing the blade against her neck. She lets out a shiver, hiding her face from me, burying it in her shoulder.Her panic is the air I breathe. Her heartbeat slows. I sink the blade into her flesh, piercing it enough to give me a steady drip of blood. “No,” she whimpers. Tears mist her pretty eyes. I grip her chin, forcing her face towards me. “Shh. Feel the pleasure.” The words roll off my tongue in a dark, silky cadence. My free hand digging around in my sweatpants pocket, I pull out two molly tabs and slip once under my tongue. She watches blurry-eyed as I let it dissolve under my tongue.
“Open,” I command. My vision loses focus as I watch the blood drip onto her leather jacket. Such a fuckin’ waste. My cock presses against her thigh. She can’t shake her head with my blade to her throat. I use the sharp edge to scrape up her pooled blood. I bring it to my mouth. My tongue darts out, twisting around the blade, lapping up every last fuckin’ drop.
She still doesn’t comply. The words leave my throat clipped as I grit through my teeth, “Now.”
She sobs softly. If I wasn’t so fuckin’ twisted, I’d almost feel sorry.Almost. A cynical laugh escapes my lips. Her struggle and fear just spur me on to push her limits. Haven’t even touched her yet, and she’s a goddamn mess.
She parts her lips, spit and saliva pool at her entrance. Her cheeks turn pink from the cold. Such a beautiful broken mess. Without a word, I slip it under her tongue and pull her chin up to close her mouth, ensuring she holds it there. Won’t take long to feel the effects. I figure I’ll drag her into the Cadence Building and make her fall apart before me. Every time she goes into that building from now on she’ll think about me. A memory imprinted on her psyche.
“Pain is the building block of pleasure,” I whisper into her ear.
She shudders, goose bumps pebbling her skin as I trace along her jawline with my fingertip until it reaches my handiwork. I rub my thumb over her wound. She winces. I extend my neck and lick the remainder ofher crimson offering. I grip her wrist and lead her out of the pale moonlight and deeper into the darkness behind the Cadence Building. I push open the back door, dragging in her behind me. Her tears have subsided. For now. Won’t last long. The door slams closed, reminding her how alone we really are. The smell of the wooden instruments and the freshly polished floor fill the air, erasing her cherry scent. Fuckin’ shame. My eyes adjust quickly to the darkness. Her boots thud against the floor, matching my steps as I pull her with me.
I weave through the back room effortlessly until we reach the archway leading to the main stage. It’s dark. The only light coming from the flickering candelabras stationed at each section of the auditorium on either side. The only sound is her subtle breathing. Killing her would hinder the plan. I deposit her in front of the Steinway grand piano.
“Take your pants off,” I demand. She’s gonna learn who’s in control. If she thought I was gonna go slow and sweet because she’s a virgin, she’s dead wrong.
I’m enthralled watching her reach for her button and zipper. Slowly, she lowers her pants and then unzips the side of her boots so she can peel them off. Her very fuckin’ existence is a sublime catastrophe. Why her body sends me into a frenzy I don’t understand, but my demons are screaming at me totake. Good enough for me. The lambent lighting dances over her skin.
My body tightens, and my thoughts grow louder. Afraid I might reach out and take every ounce of offering she can give until I leave her with nothing.Soon. Soon, I’ll strip her of herself until she’s a broken shell. She stands before me in a simple pair of black lace panties and her corset top and leather jacket. She could almost pass for a bad girl.
Almost.
The plush stool cushions her unsteady legs as I direct her ass onto the seat. “Play.”
What the heck is going on? Why did I agree to come here with him? What the hell did he give me? My body feels loose, and my mind is muddled. The fact I actually begged him to touch me fills me with shame. I’m mortified sitting on the leather stool in my panties. This is a mistake, it feels wrong, yet I’m dying to know where this leads.
How he knows his way around the Cadence Building sends up warning signs, but I push them down. I wonder if he brought me here to kill me? Is this where it ends?
No, no Vesper. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t have saved you from being raped.
My mind is dazed and confused. My judgment is clouded by his good looks and mysterious persona. My brain is stuck between fear and curiosity and…something more. My body and mind are at war with each other.
“Play,” he demands, towering over me.
My fingers tremble against the keys. I dare to look up at his face, the dark, amber candlelight has his eyes dancing in the flames.
“Why?” I ask meekly, slamming my legs closed. I’m vulnerable, but this strange feeling of euphoria has me slowly losing my inhibition.
He takes a measured step behind me, pacing. “You’ll see, songbird. Gonna show you how good pleasure can be.” His voice is sinister and ominous. His eyes burn into my backside.
My mind can’t wrap around how me playing piano equates tothat kindof pleasure. I shrug my jacket off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor at his feet. Closing my eyes, I swallow my trepidation and start playing. The auditorium fills with the gentle sounds of Hans Zimmer. My mind melts into the music, syncing to the keys. My fingers glide over the keys effortlessly with practiced precision. Just as I let the music take me over, he sinks onto the stool behind me, his arms coming around my stomach just above my panties. His body feels massive behind me; I’m shocked he fits on the stool with me.
When I miss a stroke, he says “Keep playing” his voice hums in a shockingly tender tone. My body heats. I time the strokes to my internal metronome, keeping the song flowing.
One of his hands glides up my chest and wraps around my neck. He’s shaking, as if hanging by a thread of control. His other hand brings the switchblade against my lace panties, tracing the blade along the front of my pussy and clit. My body is torn. I’m ashamed of the fire igniting within me from his sick, twisted game, but it’s also screaming to give in to the pleasure.
Each slow, calculated movement is made with precision, as if he’s playing my body like an instrument. It's as if he knows me better than myself. He teases me just enough to make me flustered. I lean back, resting against his chest as I try to keep my focus on the piano in front of me. I miss another key.
