Page 9 of Cain

And now? Oh, lord, now all I can think about is having her beneath me, sliding inside her and making her helplessly scream my name, begging me to continue.

I can feel the obsession devouring my deranged mind, eating away at whatever sanity I have left. Her intoxicating scent infects me, consuming every thought until I can’t think of anything else.

I should have stayed away. It would have been safer for her. This was a mistake, a grave mistake that could put her in danger. But little does she know, no one can escape my wrath if they hurt her. That would be their demise.

God, if she only knew. If she knew what I want to do to her, without a moral compass or any decency, it would only scare her away. If she knew the extent of my obsession, my unhinged thoughts, the way I want to ruin her, her body … her little pussy. If she knew the way I want to make her squeal with pain, begging me to stop—or to continue … but I know that once I start, there’s no going back. I know that by the time I’m done with her, she’ll never want to leave.

Wandering the mall’s corridors, I light up a smoke in a stupid attempt to calm my mind and my racing thoughts. How foolish do I sound? Like a child who thinks they’ll slip away with a lollipop or a tiny, stupid toy.

People are staring at me. God, I want to murder them, one by one, for provoking my temper with their fucking pointless glances. After all, touching her doesn’t purge my impulse to slit the throats of anyone who dareslay eyes on her or even allows themselves the faintest, unholy thought about her.

As I walk past a flower shop, my gaze catches on a single crimson rose standing alone in an empty vase. It’s flawless on the surface, yet something feels off about it, as if there’s a reason it’s been left on its own.

Strange, because it looks fresh, vibrant, alive. Out of all the flowers in the shop, this one draws me in. There’s something beneath its obvious beauty, something that makes me want to ruin it. To savor its scent, take in every bit of its perfection, and then tear it apart.

Just like I want to treat Katerina. I want to ruin her, shape her into something beautiful, but the way I see it. I want to break her and make her realize what true beauty means.

I walk inside, move closer to it, and hold it between my fingers. Flawless and fresh indeed.

“Need any help, sir?” the florist asks with a bright smile.

I take out a ten-dollar bill and hand it to her. “Just this.”

A faint and awkward smile laces her lips as her eyes linger on mine for a little longer. She hesitates for a bit. “Is it for a girl?”

My eyes dart involuntarily and catchherpassing outside the flower shop. She’s alone now; her friend is not anywhere nearby. “Not just any girl.”

I walk outside, unable to resist the urge to be around her once again.

Her eyes linger on me for a few seconds before they smile at my sight. Her captivating glacier-blue eyes can smile brighter than her gorgeous, full lips could ever do.

Damn, every time I see her, she’s more beautiful, radiating absolute sexiness and elegance. Her blonde, long, and silky hair cascades on her defined shoulders and laces her prominent collarbone.

“It’s you again!” She smiles. “My savior.”

Fuck, her perfume smells like roses. How didn’t I realize it before?

I halt a few inches closer to her and let my eyes examine her. She’s different. She’s carrying a bag. She probably bought something. I peek at the bag hanging on her shoulder, and there I see it.

She bought the dress I had suggested.Good girl. She listens.

She notices my stare, and her cheeks turn reddish. She blushes at my presence, and that makes me even harder for her.

“You were right, after all. The dress was beautiful,” she says.

I look at nothing but her full lips and tongue. I can’t stop thinking a million ways that I want to ravish her pretty mouth until she chokes and gags on my cock. I want to bite that well-defined cupid’s bow on her upper lip until she hisses from pain as my teeth sink deeper into her skin.

“Everything looks beautiful on you, Katerina.”

She lets out a hesitant sigh. My brows furrow in question.

“The way you pronounce my name is …”

“Wrong?”

“No, it’s …” She tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear. “Different.”

“Different?”