Page 75 of The Cute Psycho

The hands of a killer.

A quick intake of breath and I realize there's a change to him. No longer the playful rogue from before, he's now a predator on the prowl.

Why does it excite me even more to know that he has the power to snuff the life out of me? It would be so easy, hands around my throat, a snap of my neck, and he'd end me.

And why do I want just that?

I can almost imagine the way his fingers would dig into my flesh, just under my jaw, tightening his hold until I can barely breathe before letting go, granting me a small respite. There's this hidden part of me that wants him to dominate me until I'm begging for mercy, and it both scares and excites me.

"What are you doing now?" I'm dazed as I look at him, all ink and bulging muscle, his chest rippling with every small exertion. I want to spread my palms over his flesh, feel his hardness under me, and as I try to do just that, he stops me.

He shakes his head, amused.

"The moment you touch me, Hell Girl, I'll combust," he drawls, his fingers still drawing circles over my naked flesh. "I'm barely in control as it is. The moment my cock is out, or you, God forbid, place your hands on it, I'll lose whatever control I have left." His voice is thick and strained, and I can see he's trying to fight himself.

He trails the back of his hand over my damp panties, and my breath catches in my throat as he skims thatextremelysensitive part of myself.

A part that no one but me has touched before.

A blush envelops my features at that train of thought, but I'd read enough online to know what to expect, and that knowledge only serves to make me even wetter, my pussy leaking out in an attempt to get him to give it the attention it craves.

"You're wet for me, aren't you, Sisi?" he asks, sliding the material aside to push his finger between my drenched folds, feeling exactly what his voice—his very presence—does to me. He moves slowly as he takes some of the moisture, coating his entire finger and lifting it up to his mouth.

I watch hypnotized as he opens his lips—those sensuous lips that should be illegal on a man—placing his finger inside and sucking.

"You make me like this," I answer breathlessly as he uses his tongue to lick every last drop.

What he doesn't know is that from the moment I first saw him, he made me feel like this. I may have failed to recognize it then, but the second he'd directed those black eyes at me, his hands on my throat as he'd lifted me in the air, I'd been painfully aroused, my entire being tingling from his nearness.

"Fuck, Sisi. You have no idea what those words do to me," he rasps, his eyes half-closed, a pained expression on his face.

18

SISI

He's on his knees between my parted legs, and I move my eyes lower, to his pebbled stomach, the ink only serving to emphasize the tight squares of his abdominals more. His waist tapers down, and I note his wet pants, and the way they mold to his hips and...

I swallow hard as I see the contour of his cock, and I get an idea of what my words do to him.

I'm not ashamed to admit I'd explored the internet in my quest to find out why he makes me feel this way, and I'd read enough to know thatthatisn't the norm. But then again, everything about him is superlative, so I shouldn't be surprised that his cock is an outrageous size too.

And yet, even as my eyes have a hard time believing somethingthatbig will be able to fit inside of me, I can't help the way I squeeze my walls instinctively, almost able to imagine him sliding in and...

A moan escapes my lips, the image too vivid, my body more awake than ever.

His gaze darkens as he watches the way my pussy slowly contracts, more wetness pouring out of me.

"Damnation, Hell Girl," he growls, palming that monster in his pants. "Your pussy's too fucking perfect," he says, shaking his head as he keeps on staring.

Suddenly, his hands skirt along the edge of my panties and a breath catches in my throat as he slides them down my legs. The action is so tantalizingly slow it's only building up my anticipation—and my frustration.

He chuckles when he sees my impatience, leaning down and teasing my lips with his own.

"I want to wreck you, Sisi," he whispers, his mouth hovering on top of mine. There's an intensity to the way he looks at me, and I truly believe him capable of doing just that. If anything, I'd welcome it.

Maybe even beg him for it.

"I want to tear you apart and put you back together." He trails his tongue down my face and onto my chin, goosebumps appearing all over my skin. "But in the reconstruction phase, I'd keep something of yours," his teeth scrape along the curve of my neck, "so that you're never whole without me."

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