Page 64 of From Hell

His command is accompanied by a sharp dig of the knife under the elastic of my knickers. I do as he says, placing my head on his chest and closing my eyes, breathing in small gasps. I hear Margo and her friend move past us, closing the door softly behind them, leaving me alone in the room with a madman and a dead one.

Then the cold blade travels up and kisses my neck like a lost lover.

Where my scar is.

I don’t move, I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot, just like that time. Jagged memories of being held hostage, harsh fingers digging into my neck, come screaming back…a smooth voice telling me to stay, cold steel burning like acid as it cuts.

My captor shuffles me back until we bump the edge of the coffin. Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I’m aware of Jaxon hoisting me on top of the casket lid and then grabbing my ponytail, tugging my head back until I’m lying on my back.

“Spread your legs.”

Another command as the tip of the knife grazes down my body, over my clothes. One hand pushes up my dress, keeps my legs open, and the other slashes off what little underwear I have left, exposing me to the room. Brief pain mixed with cool air assaults me, just as Jaxon does, burying his face between my thighs, nipping the slick wet folds with his teeth.

At least, I hope it’s his teeth. It could be the knife.

It’s only then I realize I’m lying on a goddamn coffin. All that stands between me and Henry’s dead body is a slab of mahogany.

But fear and reason float off into the void as he licks the pain away, teasing my clit laboriously with his tongue, igniting sparks in my core. Heat builds throughout my body like Hell’s Inferno. Rushes of pleasure pull me under. Wave after wave swallows me whole.

Balancing on the casket, I grip the edge of the polished wood, unable to do anything but look at the intricately coved ceiling above and die a little at a time from every slow and hard suck from the Devil between my legs.

“Oh, God, please,” I moan, the pressure becoming too hot, too intense all at once.

“God can’t help you now,” he says softly in a dangerous tone, fingers plunging inside me one last time, filling me up, fucking me hard. As my thighs quake and my body shakes, the storm raging inside me breaks, striking liquid fire through my veins.

“Jaxon.” His name spills out from my lips like a cry as I come, trembling on the casket, relief wracking through my chest like misery unchecked. He stands and looks down at me, gaze dark.

I lie there, lifeless, helpless, tingling from top to toe, breathing in and out. My eyes search his for something, anything. What was that? Why does it feel like a dream?

But the polished wood beneath me, the stillness of the room we’re in, and the murmurs outside bring it home. The stinging between my legs wakes me up…slowly. It’s not a dream.

There’s blood around his mouth.

Blood.

My gaze travels down to the knife in his hands and the red drops on the blade’s edge. Jaxon blinks rapidly, silver eyes widening as if seeing me for the first time. Fear flashes across his face before he shuts it down. He grimaces then, disgust curling his lips.

“You should go.”

Before I can reply, he backs away, the emotion that spilled through the mask slipping away, his body stiff like he never bruised the slender parts of my neck, didn’t run a knife over it, the carnal smile on his lips a distant memory.

The orgasm he gave me...a stark reminder that I’m weak when it comes to him.

“Jaxon—”

“Get the fuck out, Laine.” The coldness in his voice and the abrupt change in him bring me back with a jolt, and I hurry out of the room.

The elegant affair celebrating Henry’s fake life is still in full swing when I stagger out of the viewing room, pulling my dress back into place. My heart is off to the races, my mind a jumbled mess, when I burst through the back door and into the blinding sun.

The warmth of summer slides across my bones, chasing away the demons pursuing me all the way, until I reach my car.There’s something about stark, bright daylight. In all the movies, monsters turn to dust when they enter the light.

I fumble with the keys, a pricking sensation on the back of my neck making me look back.

A figure in black is watching me from the window of Henry’s house.

It’s Jaxon…coal dark eyes swallowing me whole like the pits of Hell, reflecting back all the bad things I’ve done.

And all the sins I’ve yet to commit.