My mouth falls open, and I hope it’s a nightmare. I hope that this is some sort of a twisted joke that’s gone too far and I’m supposed to laugh it off now, then go home and text the girls about it.
But I have a feeling that if I so much as breathe wrong, the situation will escalate to the worst.
“If you’re not into that option, I have alternatives in mind.” His hand slides from the top of my head to the hollow of my cheek and then down to my lips.
In my life, I’ve never been as frozen as I am right now. And it has everything to do with his cold touch. It’s callous, devoid of any care, and absolutely terrifying.
This must be what it feels like to have your soul ripped out by the Grim Reaper.
His fingers slide down to my throat and he squeezes the sides hard enough to make me lightheaded and establish who holds control in this situation. “You can get on all fours so I can stick my cock in one of your remaining holes. Probably both and in no particular order.”
I wish this was a façade, but there’s no ounce of deceit in his tone. This crazy bastard really won’t hesitate to make good on his promises.
It’s only now that I realize what deep trouble I’m actually in.
This psycho will devour me alive.
If I thought I was hollow for weeks, then this will definitely end me.
Decimate me.
Tear me to pieces.
He must sense my distress, considering the trembling of my whole body. I’m like a stray bird in the middle of the windy night, being pushed in all directions.
“Which option will you go for?” the stranger asks in his casual voice that could belong to dukes and aristocrats.
There’s unnerving ease in his movements and manner of speech. As if he’s a robot that’s running on some fucked-up battery.
But at the same time, it’s like he’s at war. He escalates the events so quickly that the nature of his actions turns unpredictable.
And I’m not staying around to find out to what lengths he’ll take this.
Using the element of surprise, I spot the chance where his grip is somewhat relaxed on my throat, and I lunge up.
My heart soars with the explosive fireworks of adrenaline when I feel him losing his merciless hold.
I did it.
I—
I’m not even finished celebrating in my head when a loud thud sounds in the air. The air whooshes out of my lungs when my knees hit the rocks with a lethality that knocks my thoughts from my head.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe…
That’s when I realize that he’s brought me down with a violent squeeze around my throat and a shove on the top of my head.
And this time, he’s out to choke me. My nails dig into his wrists, my survival instinct kicking in like that of a trapped animal.
But it’s like I’m colliding with a wall.
A fucking unmovable fortress.
He even compresses his fingers until I’m sure he’ll snap my head from my neck.
“The running away option wasn’t on the menu, now, was it?” His voice sounds far away and mingles with the ringing in my ears. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s deepened, lowered, turning a darker shade of black.
Way worse than the colorless night.
Even his dim eyes have become desolate—worse than any hue I could picture.
At this moment, he’s nothing short of a predator.
A callous, cold-blooded monster.
“P-please…” I croak, and it echoes like a haunting ghost song in the night surrounding us.
I can’t even pray that some passerby will find us. After all, Devlin chose this place because it’s isolated.
Devlin and I chose this place.
Who thought we’d experience such different yet tragic fates in it?
“Please?” he drawls the word, as if testing how it sounds on his lips.
I try to bob my head, but it’s impossible with his hold on my neck.
“Please use your lips or please use your cunt and ass?” He pauses, then pushes me backward until my upper half is tilted in the cliff’s direction. “Or please turn you into a masterpiece?”
Choked noises leave my lips, sounding more animalistic than human.
It’s that escalation again—the reminder that this is a power play and if I keep fighting, he’ll simply make this way more horrendous than I can possibly imagine.
No matter how hard I struggle, the inhumane stranger seems oblivious to it. In fact, he lifts a shoulder manically, like a damn criminal who feels no remorse whatsoever for his crimes.
“If you don’t choose, I’ll do it for you—”
“Lips,” I strain, unsure of how I manage to get the word out.
I’m not even sure how the hell I’m still conscious, considering the raw power he’s holding me with.
It’s only after the word leaves my mouth that he slowly eases the brute force of his fingers from around my neck. But he doesn’t release me and continues imprisoning my whole being in front of him.
I inhale a copious amount of air, my lungs filling with oxygen to the point of feeling burned, caught in a chokehold and stabbed in the chest.
He raises a thick eyebrow, appearing beautiful, gorgeous even, but it’s the type of beauty that notorious serial killers use to lure their victims. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he kills for sport.
And that’s definitely the wrong thought to have under the circumstances.
It’s insane how I’ve often thought about death but when push comes to shove, I’m terrified of it.
The stranger from hell slides his thumb against my upper lip, sensually, almost lovingly, and it’s even more frightening. Because from the way he’s behaved and talked, I’m almost sure there’s not a gentle bone in his body.
“You’ll let me stuff my cock between these lips and fill your throat with my cum?”
My neck heats since I’m not used to being spoken to this way, but I lift my chin. “I’m not doing it because I want to. I’m doing it because you’re threatening me with worse. If it were up to me, I would’ve never let you touch me, you sick bastard.”
“Good thing it’s not up to you.” Still keeping his hand around my throat, he slides down his zipper with his free hand, the sound eerier than the crushing of the waves and the whooshing of the wind.
When he pulls out his penis, I try to turn my head the other way, but his grip on my neck forces me to watch every single detail.
He’s big and hard, and I don’t even want to think about what made him so hard.
Something warm presses against my lips and I clamp them shut, glaring up at him.
“Open,” he orders, his hand clenching my hair, allowing no room for negotiation.
But I hold on to the fight in me. To that glimmer of hope that maybe he’ll change his mind and this whole nightmare will be over.
I should know better.
A monster can’t be changed or derailed.
A monster’s only aim is to destroy.
“I can always use your ass and cunt. In that order. So unless you’re willing to soak my dick with your blood and lick it clean, I suggest you open your mouth.” He hits me across the lips with his dick and I have no choice but to loosen my jaw.
If I don’t, there’s no doubt that he’ll keep his word about the other option and I’m not ready to find out how far he’ll go.