HauntingAdie {1}

C16

The Manipulator

Millions of thoughts run through my head on what I could possibly say to get
out of this. I’m sorry clearly wasn’t good enough.
“You’re going to shoot me?”
My bladder is threatening to explode, and the knowledge that I might die in a
puddle of pee brings tears to my eyes.
“I’ve already said I’m not going to kill you,” he responds, his tone dripping
with impatience. He punctuates his response by dragging the tip of the gun down
through the valley of my breasts. The gun continues its path down my stomach,
stopping at the edge of my leggings.
“Take these off.”
My lip trembles and a single tear slides down my temple.
“Please, don’t do this.”
He cocks a brow, and the act is damning. He looks so damn unimpressed with
my pleas, causing another tear to trace the path of the first.
“Now, Adeline.”
Sniffing, I finally listen. Hooking my thumbs in the band of my leggings, I pull
them down. I’m only able to reach mid-thigh before his body gets in the way.
He takes the hint, lifting up and ripping the leggings down the rest of the way.
More tears follow suit.
“T-shirt next,” he orders, jerking his gun to signal his order. I lift up and slide
the shirt over my head, laying back down with a huff.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes tracing over the curves of my body.
Fucker is lucky I’m wearing my black lace set tonight.
He doesn’t fucking deserve it, either.
He leans over me again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on my
shoulder.
“Do you know what these mean?” he whispers, kissing another spot. I shudder
beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing
across my skin.
I don’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“They mean that I own you. Marked you as mine.”

The tip of his tongue darts out, trailing my flesh as he moves down towards my
breasts.
“Don’t—”
His teeth pierce the swell of my left breast before I can finish my pointless
demand. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut as he leaves another mark on my skin.
Once he’s satisfied, he renews his path with his mouth, leaving hickeys on both
of my tits and several across my stomach. And all I can do is just take it. Because
that gun in his hand is keeping me pliant—just like he planned.
When my body is well and abused from his teeth and tongue, he lifts up and
forces my thighs open. I strain against him, but it only hurts me in the end. He’s
too strong.
His pointer finger curls in the edge of my thong, tracing the lining from the
juncture of my thigh, down towards my center. Before he reaches my clit, he pulls
the material out and runs his finger up and down the fabric, his finger a mere inch
from my pussy.
I want to cover my face because I know he’s feeling my body’s betrayal.
“These are soaked,” he rasps out, his lips still wet from his saliva.
“That’s called discharge,” I snap, hoping my lie turns him off. He smiles in
response.
“As much as I hate to say this to you, I’m no stranger to a woman’s pussy and
what it feels like when it weeps for me.”
I curl my lip in disgust. “Last time I checked, most girls weep because they’re
upset. Take a hint.”
He chuckles. “Little mouse, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He then pulls my
thong to the side, baring my pussy to him, and the arousal glistening from within.
He mutters a curse under his breath as his eyes devour every inch of me. Another
tremble of my lips has me biting down on the traitorous flesh.
Keeping one finger hooked in my underwear, he points the gun in my face with
the other. I recoil, pinching my eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp.
“Relax, I just want you to suck on it.”
It takes several seconds for his words to process. To process that he didn’t pull
the trigger, and I’m not dead. When they do, my eyes snap open, and I glare at
him.
“Why the fuc—” He taps the tip of the gun on my mouth, effectively cutting
me off. The rest of my words dissipate as he slides the gun across my lips, as if
he’s painting them with lipstick.
“Suck,” he orders, his tone deepening with finality. Closing my eyes against
more tears, I open my mouth and let him guide the gun between my teeth. I
squeeze my lids tighter as I twirl my tongue over the cold metal, cringing from
the nasty taste.