HauntingAdie {1}

C30

The Manipulator

He has the strangest ability to suck the air from my lungs with a simple look.
And when his terrifying words accompany the deadly stare, it feels like I don’t
have any lungs at all.
The hoodie parts and he slowly pulls it down my arms. The material drops to
the floor, where muddy shoes have trekked across a thousand times tonight.
It feels like a cruel metaphor. Along with my clothes, my flesh and soul will be
stained tonight.
“Someone could come in here,” I whisper, my voice barely penetrating the
tension in the air.
He smiles—a wicked smile that tells me he wouldn’t mind if someone did.
“What do you think they’d do?” he implores as he lifts my shirt, the pads of his
fingers grazing my skin. Goosebumps rise, a physical reaction from the electricity
dancing across my skin wherever he touches me.
“Do you think they’d watch?” he asks. “Do you think they’d enjoy the sight of
your naked flesh on display? Maybe they would get off on seeing your dripping
pussy reflected back at them everywhere they look. Or the pretty flush on your
chest when you come. I think they’d even enjoy watching your eyes roll to the
back of your head when my cock fills you so fully, you can’t fit any more of me
inside you.”
A shot of fear injects straight into my heart, forcing the muscle into overdrive.
But yet, my body still responds in a much darker way.
Just like his words, I feel my pussy pulsate as my panties gradually dampen
until it’s exactly like he said—dripping.
Would I be okay with a stranger watching? I don’t think so. But something
about the way he paints the picture makes me wonder if I’d let it happen anyway.
“You’d be okay with other people seeing me naked?” I challenge breathlessly,
watching my shirt flutter to the black floor. His fingers drift up my spine, slow
and deliberate. They burn like lava searing my flesh.
“No,” he murmurs in my ear. I watch him through the mirror, his eyes drifting
down until they’re targeted on my chest. The band of my bra tightens, the material biting into my skin before it loosens. The black lacy cups supporting my
breasts fall and bare me completely.
My nipples are painfully tight. When he catches sight of my hardened peaks,
his tongue drifts across his lower lip as if he’s salivating at the sight.
“You want to know what I’d do?” he questions. “I would let them watch. I
would let them watch me claim you as mine and own every inch of your body.
They would watch my cock fill every one of your holes and then watch you cry
because of how hard you came. And then I’d fucking kill them. My cock would
still be wet from your cum as I’d slice their throats for even daring to look at
what’s mine.”
The fear inside me tightens into a sharp point, threatening to pop the balloon of
sanity I have left.
“You’re psychotic,” I gasp. This time he laughs, the dark rumble traveling
straight to the apex of my thighs.
“You will learn to love it,” he murmurs distractedly. His attention has been
pulled away as his hands drift across my flat stomach and cup my breasts. I don’t
have small breasts by any means, I was blessed with good genes. But the size of
his hands—they’re so big that they make my breasts look small, barely
overflowing his hands.
He’s a monster. Inside and out.
Still, I feel my panties becoming more drenched.
It shouldn’t be possible for the body to concurrently feel hate and desire, but I
suppose we would all be lifeless without the complexities of human emotion.
He squeezes my breasts, nearly to the point of pain.
“I’m going to fuck these soon,” he promises before releasing them and moving
his hands to the button of my jeans.
With a single flick of his hands, my actions creep in no stealthier than a bank
robber in a vault full of money.
What the fuck are you doing, Addie?
Fuck, I don’t know. This is wrong. So, very wrong. But I don’t stop him from
unzipping my jeans. Nor do I stop him from hooking his thumbs on either side
and pulling them down.
He helps me out of my shoes first and then slips the jeans completely free. I’m
left in nothing but my black lacy thong.
I swallow, my heart racing as I take in our reflection. He’s still fully clothed,
his eyes ping-ponging across the mirrors to look at every angle of my undressed
state. He looks as if he can’t decide which mirror to settle on. I fight the urge to
cover myself. I find the act of hiding more embarrassing than standing almost
fully naked in front of a beautiful man.