“Please Wrath!” I scream.
He gives two more loads, breathing hard, then slams the shovel into the ground with a sharp thud. I’m neck-deep by the time Wrath finally turns to face me, towering above.
I don’t look at him. I can’t. I look everywhere else, anywhere else, my eyes burning, the tears spilling fast, mixing with the rain and the mud streaking down my face.
“You got what you wanted,” I choke out, dragging my watery eyes up to his.
He stares down at me, then he crouches, and I lower my head. His tattooed hand reaches out and clamps around my jaw, forcing my head back until my gaze meets his—those red eyes, that burn so blankly.
With his other hand, he brushes the wet strands of hair stuck to my face aside, then his thumbs wipe the tears from my cheeks as his gaze traces over every part of me. And for a second, just one, it almost feels like he cares.
Wrath releases me and dips his hand into his pocket again, scribbling something down before turning it in his tatted fingers for me to see.
Your tears are beautiful, my little corpse. But don’t be scared of me. Not yet. I’m only going to pry your throat open, nice and violent, until it forgets how to scream. Then, then you can truly be afraid of me.
My eyes widen as they shoot up to his, a small breath escaping me.
“Are you planning on killing me?” I whisper, barely able to get the words out as his fingers curl around my jaw again, thumb dragging across my bottom lip like he’s imagining it stretched open or shut tight around his dick.
He watches the movement like it matters, like my mouth is already his. My eyes flutter closed, but not from shyness. No. It’s from the sick twist in my gut again that I can’t ignore.
That pull I hate myself for feeling toward him. It coils low and tight in my pussy, heat flooding into something raw and ugly. He touches me like I’m delicate, like I’m wanted, and I’ve never felt anything like it before.
But deep down, I know what’s beneath it. I canfeelthe violence in him waiting to rip through. And still, my body responds like it’s starved for him.
What the fuck is this maniac doing to me?
His thumb slips past my lips, and I open my eyes, meeting his through my wet lashes. He presses down on my tongue like he’s claiming it, and his gaze, deep and demonic red, goes a shade darker and heavier.
Without thinking, I wrap my lips around his thumb, tight and a suction pulls, hollowing my cheeks. I see his body shift straight away, noticing the tension in his jaw, the slight part of his lips and the barely-there shuddering exhale.
His gaze shoot back to mine, full of wickedness and hunger, and I swear he’s seconds from tearing me apart and fucking me right there in the cold dirt.
With his thumb still in my mouth, his other hand moves to his belt as he drops onto his knees. The sharp clink of metal reaches my ears as he releases it and my stomach twists, nerves tangled in arousal. He doesn’t look away, not once, as he pops the button open, then drags his zipper down in one smooth pull.
My mouth fills with saliva, aching and wanting.
You don’t want this, Aurelia. Say something. Do something. Fucking stop this shit.
But I can’t. Because deep down, beneath the fear, beneath the filth, something darker is pulsing through me. Iwantit. I wanthim. The danger. The destruction. I want to feel it all.
I just watch as his hand dips beneath the waistband of his black boxers, disappearing and my breath stutters at the motion, the slow curl of his fingers, the unmistakable shift when he wraps around himself. He tugs once, rough and slow, and a low growl tears from his throat, animalistic, raw and vibrating through the air between us.
The rain falls harder, the earth around me cold and wet, but all I feel is the burn of him.
He’s about to choke me with that thing. And I’m about to let him or am I?
I hold my breath as his thumb slips from my mouth with a softpop, a trail of wet left behind. Then his hand sinks into the back of my wet, tangled hair, and he grabs a fistful before flopping his cock out like it’s nothing, like it’s not a fucking beast.
My gaze drops, and my mind blanks.
Holyfuckinghell. What the fuck am I seeing?
Long, thick and heavy with something more than just blood and arousal. It throbs like it’s alert and alive, like it knows exactly what it’s about to do to me. Veins coil down its length, swollen and demanding.
The skin is flushed tight, so fucking hard it looks ready to split. But what really sends a chill down my spine and what makes my breath shake, is what he’s done to it.
It has bell bars, but not the playful, cute silver ball type.