Page 9

MARISELA

I shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as I did.

I’d always known I had a thing for violence.

Liked watching my own blood rise to the surface and pool over.

But I’d never actually stabbed anyone before.

Thought about it, sure. Fantasized about what it would feel like to jump one of my father’s men, hold a gun to their head, and fuck them till I decided to blow their brains out.

But who hasn’t?

Fantasies were very different from the reality of it.

The blood warmer than I imagined it being.

And the thrill… Well, that was goddamn intoxicating.

Arousing in a way I didn’t think possible.

Part of me wanted to twist the blade, plunge my arm inside the gaping wound and feel around for a bit.

While another part of me wanted to see what it was like to make this fucker snap, force him to wrap his hand around my throat and squeeze until we both saw stars .

Except my shadow man appeared to be just as fucked up as I was.

His erect cock digging into my stomach as he leaned forward and groaned against my ear.

The sound more pleasured than pained before he lifted his mask to just under his nose and sank his teeth into my shoulder.

I heard the distant clank of metal hitting asphalt, telling me I’d dropped my knife, but I had no recollection of actually letting it go, as my arms closed around the back of his head and tugged him closer.

His breath hot and minty against my skin and his neck muscles tight and rippling under my touch.

I wanted to see his face as much as I didn’t want to know who he was. There was just something so erotic about the idea of getting fucked by some stranger. About parting ways and never having to see him again.

I didn’t care that my back was scraping against the wall.

Didn’t give a shit about the friction burns on my thighs as he ground himself against the tight material of my pants.

While the fact he was ruining my clothes as he continued to bleed out from his abdomen was more of a turn-on than anything else.

I reached a hand between us, slipped it into his pants, and listened to the deep moan he made in his throat as I brushed a palm across the blood pooling on his right side and used it to ease the movements of my back-and-forth motions.

Drawing out long, red strokes from base to tip.

Exploring the smooth skin. Pressing my thumb against the little slit at the top before gripping the end like a joystick.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.

Didn’t much care either. The satisfaction I felt each time he met one of my strokes with a drive of his hips was all the encouragement I needed.

My orgasm teetering on the horizon as I released my grip and yanked him closer, practically forcing this stranger to fuck me through the several layers of clothing that still separated us.