Predator

24

Liam lifted her easily, fitting himself beneath her. His lips nuzzled her, his tongue teasing, making her squirm. He pried her legs apart, sucking loudly on her folds.

She shuddered, the slick sounds echoing in her mind, her body involuntarily clenching around his tongue. Liam's deliberate teasing pushed her to the edge, his fingers spreading her lips to insert his tongue.

Amelia's eyes widened with confusion and fear, her body trembling as he toyed with her. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, drawing more nectar from her.

Liam's eyes glittered with unspoken intent. "Didn't you say you'd kill me if you had the chance?"

"Stop eating..." Amelia's breath came in gasps.

Her skirt, once pale, now bore the marks of his touch.

"Open."

Liam's voice was commanding, his fingers forcing her jaw open as his tongue explored. The girl, usually compliant, smiled as she shared his release with him, mimicking his tone. "Tastes good?"

"How does your own flavor taste?"

Silence.

Liam didn't respond. His finger wiped her face clean, his expression neutral, his eyes unreadable.

"Didn't taste it." He bit her lip hard, a brutal kiss that left her breathless, the taste of semen lingering in their mouths.

"Mm..."

Amelia's face flushed as she gasped for air, a soft whimper escaping her lips. "Let... go!"

The kiss broke, leaving a trail of saliva. Liam's voice was a deep rumble. "I think it tastes pretty good."

Despite her defiance, Liam wasn't angry. Instead, he returned her kiss with a smile and handed her a Damascus steel knife, its blade glinting coldly.

Amelia's eyes were a mix of confusion and caution.

Her clenched fists were pried open, the knife placed in her palm, the sharp edge facing him.

"For protection." He watched her tense body for a moment before turning to the wardrobe, leaving his back exposed to her.

Holding the knife, Amelia hesitated.

Kill him.

Kill him, and you'll be free.

Another voice warned: What if this is a test?

The knife inched toward his back just as he straightened up. "Found it."

Startled, she hid the knife behind her.

"Come here." Liam held a worn brown dress, ready to slip it over her.

Amelia hesitated. "It's dirty..."

"Like wearing my clothes?"

Her chest heaved with anger. "Dirty..."

"I washed it."

Before she could retort, he added, "My mother's."

...

The dress was too long. Liam tied it at her knees, exposing her legs. Stripped down to his underwear, he joined her on the bed—she still held the knife, its blade pointed at his chest.

He kissed her lips lightly, closed his eyes, and said, "Sleep."

Amelia lay awake, trembling.

His breath was warm, his eyes closed.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do it now."

"You should have known when you gave it to me that I want your life."

Gathering her courage, she aimed the knife at his heart.

She struck with all her might, but Liam caught her wrist, the knife dropping to the bed.

His face inches from hers, he smiled. "I told you, it's not time yet."

With a swift motion, he pinned her beneath him, the blade at her throat.

"Like this. You must become a sharp knife."

Amelia swallowed nervously as the blade retreated.

He lay back down, murmuring.

"Sweet dreams."