Page 34 of Little Spider

My breath catches. My mind screams no, but my body betrays me, warmth spreading despite the fear. I can’t answer that. I can’t.

You’re not answering, Raven. You’re making me impatient.

I type, barely able to see through the blur of tears.

I don’t know.

His reply comes fast.

Honest again. You’re learning. It’s good to admit it. That confusion. That ache. I could take it away, you know. Make it so you don’t have to think—just feel. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

I want to scream, but the sound is stuck in my throat.

Last question. Answer carefully: When I touch you, will you fight me? Or will you let me make you mine?

My stomach flips, and I can’t breathe. I know what he wants me to say. I know what I should say. But I’m paralysed, trapped between fear and something darker—something that makes me hate myself.

I don’t answer.

My phone vibrates again, and I force myself to look.

Open the door, Little Spider. One last time. Let me in, and I’ll make you understand why you can’t get me out of your head.

My hand hovers over the lock. I can’t do it. I can’t let him win. But the thought of him out there, waiting, makes my pulse quicken, makes something hot coil low in my belly.

A loud, deliberate knock. My breath catches, and I freeze, staring at the door.

You’re so close to giving in. Just let me in. I’ll make it feel so good, Raven. I’ll take that fear and twist it until it’s pleasure. You’ll cry, but you won’t want me to stop. I promise.

I grip the phone tighter, tears slipping down my cheeks. I don’t know what’s worse—my fear or the way his words make me ache.

Another knock.

Don’t make me break in, Little Spider. Be a good girl and open the door.

My hand moves without thinking, fingers brushing the lock. I yank back before I can turn it, choking on a sob.

My phone buzzes again, and I can’t help but look.

If you don’t open it, I’ll make sure you pay for making me wait. You don’t want me angry, do you?

I swallow hard, head spinning, every part of me torn between terror and the sick, twisted desire to know what he’ll do if I give in.

Another knock, softer this time, almost like a caress.

Let me in, Little Spider. Let me show you what it’s like to be mine.

I choke on a breath, fingers trembling over the lock. I don’t know whether I’m going to turn it.

And that terrifies me most of all.

I can’t move. My fingers shake so violently near the lock I’m terrified of dropping my phone. His words keep circling in my head, dark and sharp, cutting through the fear and sinking into something deeper—something I don’t want to admit.

Another knock, slower now, almost rhythmic. My pulse matches it, thudding against my ribs. I bite my lip hard, taste copper, and don’t care. I don’t know what scares me more: him walking in, or me unlocking the door.

My phone vibrates so violently it nearly slips from my hand.

If you don’t open it, I’m coming in anyway. But if you open it yourself, I’ll be gentle. I’ll take my time. Make you feel every inch of what you’ve been begging for.