Page 115 of Psycho

I shook my head.

I should probably apologize, but the words were stuck in my throat, and nothing came out.

“Please,” I said when he wrapped his arms around my waist and hauled me up so I was sitting on the kitchen island. He pushed my legs open and walked in between them, pressing in so close to me I could feel his hard-on.

I should have stayed where I was at, not approach the fucking psycho.

“What do you want?” I asked, tilting my head to the side when he bent down close. He moved the tip of his nose up and down my jawline, and a shudder worked through me, only I wasn’t sure if the shudder was a reaction of my disgust ordesire.

My eyes fluttered shut, and he rocked his hips against me, and the shudder was now a full-blown shake as I brought my hands up and clutched his shoulders, trying to hold on to my bearings.

“It's your fault for coming to me,” he said, his voice gruff. “I was going to be good this morning and leave you alone. Drive you to school and let you get on with your education. Now…”

He trailed off, and I didn’t know if I wanted him to finish that sentence or not.

I licked my lips, my eyes opening.

He was watching me with a hungry look in his eyes. The same look a panther might give a gazelle.

I didn’t want to be the gazelle in this scenario.

His hand moved down from the outside of my thigh before coming back up again, then back down… and up…

Fuck.

“Do you like it when you make me bleed, baby?”

“No!” I answered quickly.

It didn’t matter that I had grown up with violence for most of my life, especially when Dad opened up The Basement five years ago. I didn’t enjoy violence. I didn't want to see it, and I didn’t want to enact it on others.

“No? That’s too bad.”

I blinked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He laughed softly against me, moving both hands to the balls of my shoulders and pushing me down until I was lying flat on the counter.

I jumped when he set one heavy hand down on my stomach.

“You’re so fucking addictive,” he muttered mildly, and I wasn’t sure if that sentence was meant for me or not.

I said nothing.

“Are you going to be my good girl and let me make you come before school? I’ll send you to class with wet panties, and every time you shift in your seat while the teachers drone on about differential equations or World War II, you’ll be thinking of me. Thinking of the insane way I drove you crazy and how badly you’d want to be back here, so I can drive you crazy a hundred different ways.”

I shook my head, even as my pussy clenched at his words, and a gush of arousal leaked out, wetting my panties.

Fuck.

“No? You don’t want that? You tell me no, and I’ll help you up and drive you to school. No funny business, Boy Scouts’ honor.”

He made a gesture with his finger that I was sure no Boy Scout in America had ever done before.

Who knew the fucking psycho had a sense of humor?

I opened my mouth to tell him no, but the word would not come.

I…

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