Call Me | American Psycho Reader Insert

Chapter 6

With a brutal yank, Y/N pulled her shirt over her head, the cold air of the alley hitting her bare skin like a slap. She felt his teeth graze her neck, the letter opener still at her throat, a silent threat that kept her from fighting back. Her mind was a tumult of thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last, but she pushed them away, focusing on the here and now. Survive, she told herself. Just survive.

Christy's body went limp, her eyes glazed over with a mix of horror and resignation. She felt his hands move to the button of her skirt, the zipper giving away with a metallic hiss. He pushed the fabric down, his mouth moving to her exposed collarbone, his teeth nipping at her flesh. A whimper escaped her, and she felt his smile against her skin, a twisted expression of victory.

Y/N's touch grew more urgent, his hands roughly guiding her to her knees. The concrete was cold and wet, sending a shiver down her spine, but she didn't dare protest. She knew that any show of defiance would be met with swift and brutal punishment. So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let him have his way.

He undid his own pants, the sound of his zipper echoing through the alley like a gunshot. Christy felt the tip of him against her cheek, a hot, pulsing presence that made her stomach turn. "Open your mouth," he ordered, his voice harsh and commanding. She complied, her jaw trembling with fear and revulsion.

Y/N's hand fisted in her hair, pushing her face closer to him. "Take it," he growled, and she did, her teeth clenched around him, the taste of his arousal mingling with the coppery scent of blood. He groaned, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. This wasn't sex, it was a display of power, a reminder of who was in control. She could feel the letter opener at her throat, the slightest movement could mean her end.

Christy's eyes remained closed, focusing on the sensation of his skin against her tongue, the way he grew harder with each stroke. It was a macabre dance, one she had no choice but to perform. Her mind had gone numb, a survival mechanism that allowed her to endure the unthinkable. She took him deeper, her throat working around him, the sensation almost mechanical.

The tension in Y/N's body grew, his breathing ragged as he approached climax. His grip in her hair tightened, pulling her closer, forcing her to take more of him. Christy's eyes watered, but she didn't dare pull away. The letter opener remained a constant threat, a reminder of what would happen if she didn't satisfy him completely.

Finally, with a strangled cry, Y/N released himself into her mouth, the warmth of his seed filling her, mixing with the taste of metal and fear. She swallowed reflexively, her body's natural response to his dominance. He held her there for a moment longer, his chest heaving with exertion, before finally letting her go. She fell back, gasping for air, her knees bruised and trembling from the cold concrete.

He stepped back, tucking himself away and wiping his blood-stained hand on his pants. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a sickly sweet praise. Christy pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaking, her clothes torn and stained with blood. She stared at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, trying to process what had just happened.

Y/N took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Remember," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Not a word of this to anyone. Understood?"

Christy nodded, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I won't tell."

They parted ways, the alley swallowing up the darkness of their encounter. Y/N walked away, the letter opener still in his hand, feeling the sticky warmth of Paul's blood on his skin. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but he couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through him.

When he arrived home, Evelyn was waiting for him, dressed in a silk negligée that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, a hunger in her gaze that was all too familiar. But tonight, he felt nothing but revulsion. He had no interest in her, not after the rush of power he had just experienced.

"You're late," she pouted, stepping closer to him. "I was hoping we could... make up for lost time."

Y/N could see the hunger in her eyes, the same hunger that had fueled his own actions just moments before. But now, as he looked at her, all he could think of was the blood on his hands, the feel of the letter opener slicing through flesh. He couldn't bear the thought of touching her, of letting her hands on him. "Not tonight," he said, his voice flat.

Evelyn's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, not tonight?" she demanded, her voice rising. "You've been gone for hours. Where were you?"

Y/N's eyes were cold, his voice a monotone. "I had business to attend to," he said, brushing past her. The smell of blood and fear clung to him, a scent that would forever be etched in his memory.

Evelyn's expression shifted from surprise to anger. "Don't you dare ignore me," she snapped, her voice a whip crack in the quiet apartment. She followed him into the bedroom, her eyes scanning his blood-spattered clothes. "What the fuck have you been doing?"