Page 37

My heart flutters and my hands find his mask again, but he stops me—and not in the soft way he did before. This time, his grip hurts.

I squirm beneath him. “Why don’t you show me your face?”

He plays with my fingers, intertwining them with his before he grabs my cheeks, squeezing them hard. His fingers feel like they might burn through my skin. He tilts my head back, forcing me to look at those dark, yet mesmerizing eyes.

“You’re not ready to see me yet.”

I push him back, but his body is like stone. “I deserve to know who you are,” I whisper, my breath catching in my throat. “Tell me why you’re doing this?”

His fingers brush my cheek, a feather-light touch before finding my lips. “I’m doing this to make you suffer for what you did, pretty girl.”

What I did?

“I haven’t done anything,” I bite at him.

He barks out a laugh. “That’s my point, baby. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t tell anyone what you saw.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as that flicker of a memory comes back. Not the boy at the kitchen table, but another memory…the missing memory. It’s a black hole, a tiny flicker that I can’t quite grasp. But it’s there… And it’s caused me to have nightmares my entire life.

He watches my clear torment and confusion with amusement.

Something flashes in his hands. My heart stammers as he presses the edge of the razor blade into my cheek, running the blade along my cheekbone.

He drops my hands, and I can almost hear my heart pounding louder than the music.

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” I tell him.

He softens and I can see a hint of a cruel smile, the outline of his perfect white teeth. Just pure emotion radiating from under that mask.

Hatred. Desire. Pure evil.

I refuse to touch him anymore, even though I instinctively want to wrap my hands around his waist and pull him closer. I let my hands fall to my sides.

He backs off, then chuckles. “No one will hear you or care. I could do anything I want to you right now, pretty girl. You came here knowing I’d be here, didn’t you?”

He has a point. Everyone here is dressed the same, so no one knows it’s me. The couple a few feet away are basically full-on fucking now. My hands I can control, my body I can’t. My hips shift and I grind against him, even as I turn my head away from him in clear defiance.

His breath is heavy as his demeanor shifts. I squeeze my eyes shut as he runs the blade down my body, cutting a diagonal edge of the fabric in the front of my shirt. One breast falls out, my nipple taut. I freeze, not daring to move. When I open my eyes again, he runs the blade down my belly with such precision to the point it tickles. He keeps his gaze locked on my exposed flesh.

The music shifts, causing my breath to catch, and instead of running his other hand over my breast, he tilts his head and gazes at me. As my hair falls over my chest, a sense of euphoria overwhelms me with him looking at me that way.

It’s messed up how much I enjoy him watching me. Even more messed up is the fact that he could end my life right now, and I’d find pleasure in it.

He’s playing with the blade like it’s a toy, shifting it in between his fingers. I gasp as he cuts the fabric between my legs, revealing the lace underwear I have on underneath.

My breath hitches, shallow and uneven, as he slips his fingers inside me, moving over the lace of my panties.

“You have such a dirty little fucked-up mind, don’t you, baby?” he says, watching my reaction. “So turned on by death.”

I bite my lip; my nausea returns despite the pleasure coursing through me. I moan as he hooks his finger right into my g-spot and rubs his hand in a circle.

He’s so different than he was even five minutes ago, like a whole new person is hiding in that darkness. His motions are soft and deliberate, my body tensing and melting all at once.

Keeping his fingers inside me, he lifts my body, cupping my ass in one hand. I have no choice but to wrap my legs around him, the pressure building to the point it’s torturous.

He lifts his mask for only a moment, just above his lips. He leans in and kisses me, soft and sensual—and it’s nothing like the vile things he’s saying to me. His tongue playfully dances with mine, and my primal instinct is to kiss him back. It’s orgasmic, so hot like a dream.

He fucks me against the wall with his fingers, holding me with one arm. I want so badly for him to fuck me, while the other part of me knows I need to push him away.