That Sik Luv

Aero

I sit at the back of the dark office, kicking one of my boots up on the desks in the corner, legs spread wide as I sit back in the chair, running a finger over my mask-covered lips.

Hardening at the sound of her breathy screams beneath the crack of the door, I lick my teeth beneath my mask, running my hand over the rock forming down my thigh at the idea of her helplessness. I gaze at the wooden door with hooded eyes, awaiting the results.

She’s either going to die as the little lamb of her own naivety, or she’s going to morph into everything I hoped she could.

I’ve given her the olive branch. Let’s just see how smart my little doll really is.

A few seconds of silence pass, and I roll my eyes. If a guy as stupid as Jacob Erdman actually finds a way to take my fun away from me, I’ll do worse than what I had already planned.

I drop my heavy boot to the floor, about to stand, when the handle to the door slowly twists open. Watching with delightful humor, I see Jacob’s back slowly exiting the room, his hands raised before him. My little doll holds the knife to his throat, pointing straight at him with a strong arm and a darkened fire in her heated gaze as she backs him away from her.

She’s got some fire in her. That passion and grit beneath the good girl facade that aches for violence. It’s what I need to see if she stands a chance at surviving. There’s nothing I love more than a good fight in a woman.

My jaw flexes, and something of a growl leaves my throat as I stand.

“Just…just take it easy now. I was just messing with you. He said…just messing with you,” he stutters, the fear in his tone evident.

As they make it out of the room, I eye her white button-up shirt, ripped open with a white lacy bra beneath it. One of her tights is sitting lower on her exposed thigh. He touched her.

He touched her.

Touched her.

My nostrils flare beneath the black ski mask, my back teeth grinding together. I can’t yet decide if the idea turns me on or enrages me.

Without a second thought, I silently approach Jacob from behind. Briony’s eyes widen, finally connecting with mine, seeing me appear from the darkness. I stare at her, absorbing that lively look about her now that she’s actually conscious in my presence. Her beautiful blues narrow on me, her brows lowering, as she looks at me almost confused.

Before he even knows I’m there, I wrap a single hand around his neck. He whimpers in shock, his eyes darting wildly as he looks back at her for help. I walk him to a nearby desk in the dark office as he thrashes in fear. Throwing his head against the surface, I pin his weak, whining ass to the wood by his neck, sending pens and papers flying onto the floor near my boots.

“I’ll take it from here, darling,” I murmur beneath the mask.

Her lips part as she nervously glances at Jacob, then back at me, panting as she points the knife at us. I tip my head as she stands there, staring at me.

Those plump, wet lips. That delicate little neck covered in lies. I watch her breasts rise and fall beneath the opened shirt as she keeps the knife on me, unsure of whom to trust. Unknowing of the man before her.

I love watching as her mind whirls, feeling the full effects of her entire little world flipping upside down. I want her to hate me. Need her to keep feeling that ghost of fear that’s crawling like spiders beneath that porcelain skin. I want to hurt her so fucking good.

“What are you going to do to him?” she asks, just above a whisper.

Studying her face, my eyes travel from the curve of her lips to those deep blue eyes again. The ones I rarely get to gaze at. Jacob tries to get up, yelling out for help, so I slam the side of his face back against the desk again by his neck. Surprisingly, she doesn’t even flinch.

Tipping my chin down, I peer at her through my upper lashes.

“Watch his face change when you return.”

Her throat bobs, her eyes rimming with tears as she shakes her head. I give her one silent nod and she gazes like an imbecilic doe caught in the headlights of raw pragmatism.

She doesn’t want to believe me. Not yet ready to abort her values, her beliefs. But the facts remain. Saint and his father are determined to end her one way or another. Saint with his own fucked-up amateur plans and his father’s, on their way to being fucked up by me, both of them using others to do their dirty work like a couple of rich cowards playing puppets. What they don’t realize is the toys they think they’re playing with are about to run the show.

Kicking her leg up on the surface of a nearby desk, I watch as she folds the switchblade, tucking it back in her tights against the smooth skin of her inner thigh, pulling them high enough for me to see the very edge, the curve of that deliciously tight ass beneath the pleated skirt.

I contemplate slitting Jacob’s throat right here on the table, then grabbing her hips and fucking that sweet little ass right over his dead and bleeding body, but somehow find the strength to refrain.

“What part of you did he touch?” I ask as she drops her leg.

She reaches up with two fingers and taps her mouth, then the back of her neck. Staring at her, the heat builds inside of me at the visual.

“Which hand?”

Her eyes wrinkle in the corners as if she’s reluctant to tell me.

“Which fucking hand?!” I demand, making her jump.

“Right…the right,” she stutters quickly.

I give her another dismissive nod.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks, buttoning up her shirt, not once taking her eyes off mine.

Some part of me loves the fact that she needs to know more of who I am, but I’ll never tell her. Not when keeping the mystery alive is so much fun. And necessary.

“Go,” I demand.

Her eyes find the door, then return to me.

“I said fucking go!”

“No, no! Briony, please don’t leave! He’s going to kill me!”

Jacob’s pleas fill me with disgust and insurmountable joy.

I shrug my shoulders at her. “It’s true.”

Briony’s horror-filled gaze finds me again. If she’s not going to leave, I’ll be forced to show her exactly who the fuck I am.

“Put the hand out,” I instruct him calmly.

Jacob shakes his head against the table. I tighten my hold on his throat, his eyes bulging as he struggles to take in a breath. Finally, he raises his right hand, putting it forward on the desk.

“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord,” I recite, flipping open a new knife with one hand. “Isn’t that right, kid? Isn’t that what they’re teaching you these days?”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Jacob yells into the wooden desk.

My lovesick eyes find my intimidated little doll. I’ve entirely piqued her interest as she watches with dilated pupils, her pulse practically felt from across the room.

“Crazy,” I reply with a sigh, staring directly at her.

Without removing my gaze, I stab the knife through Jacob’s palm, the blood slowly leaking around the wound as he cries out obscenities. I release his neck, standing straight as he remains pinned to the desk, watching as Briony’s eyes redden. Her mouth is frozen open as she blinks, tears falling down the soft skin of her cheeks. I saunter towards her, enjoying the fear that’s bubbling in her veins with every step I take.

“Just another lamb to the slaughter, love,” I whisper, reaching up and wiping one of the tears from her face with my thumb, eyeing it in disgust. “Don’t cry for him. Those tears look fucking hideous on you.”

I push my thumb into her mouth, feeding those pathetic tears onto her tongue. Her lower lip trembles as I slowly remove my thumb from her soft, warm mouth, and a satisfied grin spreads across my face while Jacob’s wails of pain continue in the background.

I lean forward, my mouth inches from her ear from behind my mask.

“You’re such a good girl, Briony,” I whisper, my fingers sliding up under her skirt. She flinches, closing her eyes before realizing I’m only tapping on the knife between her thighs. “Listening to the cryptic words from a man she doesn’t even know.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asks breathlessly, her chin raised boldly.

I pull the ski mask up just enough to expose my mouth. Her eyes immediately fall to my lips, lingering there for a moment before returning to face me, eye to eye. We’re only inches apart, and I can practically taste her on my tongue already. I put my thumb in my mouth, sucking off the actual taste of her tongue, groaning around my digit before answering.

“Because you haven’t bloomed,” I say directly. “I can’t end something that hasn’t had its proper chance to live. That would be…indecent of me.”

Her forehead wrinkles as she calculates the wording.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asks suddenly, trembling before me.

“No,” I say, tipping my head and rubbing my jaw. “Not today, anyway.”

She shrinks into herself, arms wrapping over her chest, and it brings me such joy.

“Get back to class. He’s waiting.” I give her another nod, dismissing her. “And watch that face.”

She glances nervously at Jacob behind me again, who’s still begging for mercy, before slowly stepping back, eyeing me with suspicion.

“Don’t forget your books, sweetheart,” I call out, pulling my mask back down over my face.

She walks into the supply closet to grab the stack she dropped. Edging herself along the back wall, she’s sure to keep her eyes on me until she finally turns, slipping through the office door to make her way back down the hall.

I turn back to Jacob and shake my head at the work ahead of me.

This guy really thought he could fuck what’s mine.

Guess I don’t like the idea after all.