Page 9 of Scream, Little Thief

One of his hands caresses my burning flesh, while the other sneaks between my legs.

“You’re so wet,” Reaper murmurs, his fingers playing with my clit until I whimper. Even if I could, I wouldn’t stop him, because he knows exactly how to touch me. He knows the perfect amount of pressure, the precise circling of his fingertips, and just the right speed.

Without skipping a beat, he pushes two fingers inside me, and I almost come on the spot.

“You’re in desperate need of a cock, aren’t you, little thief?”

“Yes!” I gasp, riding his fingers.

Even though I love them inside me and on my clit, I need more. Something bigger. Harder. Deeper.

Without warning, he withdraws his fingers and pushes something long into my opening, inch by inch. I gasp as realization hits.

Did he just . . . ? Did he really . . . ?

Never slowing down, he pushes the handle of my own whip inside me, using the rest of it to rub my clit. My eyes roll back in my head, and I moan shamelessly, not caring anymore who might hear me or see me like this.

“You have no idea how fucking hot you are right now, little thief,” Reaper groans into my ear, “taking the whip like that. I’m so fucking pleased with your costume choice tonight.”

The frosty night air tingles on my skin, but all I feel is heat. All I hear are the sounds coming from the surrounding maze, the eerie music, the rhythmic pounding, the moans getting louder, and the whimpers of the other people.

Liquid heat races through my system, sizzling and burning hot.

“Oh my God . . .”

“I’ve told you once before,” Reaper growls, pushing the handle deeper into me. “There’s no God here. Only the Devil himself.”

My fingers twitch like they want to grab the whip, but they can’t. My wrists are still tied up behind my back, leaving me bound and helpless, at the mercy of the Mafia enforcer haunting me for data files I once stole. I never gave them back, and he never turned me in or tried to kill me. But he could if he wanted to. He could snap my neck in an instant, and I wouldn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly, I’m not so sure anymore he won’t harm me. With intent or involuntarily.

“Reaper . . .” Slight panic surges in my chest, but I don’t stop him. I probably couldn’t even if I tried. Only, the fear tightening my muscles is bigger than my arousal.

He catches my chin between his thumb and his forefinger. His eyes are as dark and deadly as I remember, but now there’s a hint of something else in them. Something softer.

“You trust me?”

I laugh hoarsely. “No way.”

Which is a weird thing to say, considering I’m kneeling in a secret chamber in the middle of a hedge maze belonging to the most exclusive sex club in all of the United Kingdom. My hands are tied, my legs are spread, and he just pushed the handle of my whip into my pussy.

Oh, and don’t forget the other people gathering around to watch us. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice more masked men entering the alcove, all friends of Reaper, just waiting for his approval to do to me whatever they want.

How the hell did I end up here?

Reaper hesitates, and for a moment, I think he’s about to finally take off his mask to reassure me. But he doesn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. He never has in all the time I’ve known him.

Instead he leans down until we’re at eye level, and I could almost kiss him if it weren’t for that damn mask.

“Do it now,” he whispers. “You’ll love it. I promise. Trust me.”

I don’t know how much a promise from a ruthless Mafia enforcer is worth nowadays, but I nod anyway. “Okay.”

He watches me intently. “Give me a color.”

“Green,” I say without hesitation, remembering the safe words.

“Such a good little thief.” He pushes his thumb into my mouth, and I immediately suck on it. “Now take what I give you. Take what you deserve.”