Page 37 of Hollow Forest

“Didn’t you know?” He breathed in my scent. “Monsters get just as much enjoyment from smelling their food before they feast?”

Heat flooded my cheeks, but the next moment his mouth closed over my pussy. There might be a cotton strip on the way, but oh merciful heaven! His mouth! The heat! The way he French kissed my pussy sent me high on a burst of pleasure.

In the background, he flicked open a knife. There wasn’t time to be afraid before the blade descended. A flick of his wrist, and the panties tore.

“Bellisima,” he growled—

And fucked me with his mouth.

There was no other word to describe it. His tongue lashed me with obscene precision, circling and then plunging, alternating between slow, savoring laps and fast, greedy flutters that made my toes curl. I couldn’t even grind against him. He had my hips pinned so tight I felt every throbbing heartbeat in my clit. My hands clawed at the cushions, desperate for leverage, for anything to anchor myself as the world funneled down to the fireworks detonating in my core.

He groaned like a starving animal as he ate me, and the vibration drove through my bones and straight into my head. I was unraveling, coming apart, and he didn’t care how loud I was. I gasped and cursed and begged him not to stop.

And then his fingers joined the attack. Two slipped inside me in a single, practiced motion. He curled them, searching and prodding. I cried out when he found it, the magic spot that made my whole body shudder.

I was close.

I was right on the edge.

Every nerve in my pelvis sang with such blinding clarity. I was at the mercy of his unrepentant mouth and those wicked, forceful fingers.

“Yes, yes!” I chanted.

He curled his fingers even deeper, and I fucking convulsed. The impending release hit so hard it was almost painful. My body clamped around his hand. I screamed, incoherent, and dug my nails into the couch for dear life. The masked man just held me down and tongue fucked me right to the edge, relentless and ravenous.

I splintered. The pleasure was so sharp, yet I couldn’t make a sound. My mouth hung open, airless, as I crested that perfect peak. My vision sparkled white at the edges.

In the distance, an alarm blared. The sound had no meaning, not until the masked fiend drew back.

I shrieked. The orgasm had been right there.

“It’s midnight.”

Those two words. Those two fucking words!

“No!” I croaked, air refusing to fill my lungs. “No, it’s not!”

We had time. Didn’t we?

When I slumped back, pulse riotous, he released me and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like a murderer satisfied with his handiwork. The mask looked even more sinister, staring up at me, but the eyes behind it glinted with a wild, demented joy.

“It wasn’t even late, how is it midnight?” I snapped, raking my fingers through my loosened, limp ponytail. How long had we been at the festival? I hadn’t looked at my phone when I’d texted him. And then there was the panicked run, the incident on the road, and the ride back with everything that followed.

Dammit all to hell!

“You want to come, angel?” he growled, leaning over me. His hands were inches from my body.

I needed them. They belonged on my skin as he devoured my flesh! I pursed my lips. He fucking knew I did! He could see, taste, feel how badly I needed to come.

His voice turned gruff. “You know what to do. You can end this. Touch me.”

But I was too mad to agree. He’d timed this on purpose!

“What happens if I do that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

His sparkled with fiendish delight. “You know.”

“No,” I croaked. “I really don’t.”