Page 70 of Pen Pal

I sighed, relieved, as I grabbed the edge of the tree, stood, and crept out ofmy hiding spot.

Strong arms slammed me against the tree, and I screamed, Enzo’s scent flooding me as he pressed his body into mine.

“Caught you,” he chuckled.

I wrenched away, taking off into the forest, his laughter ringing all around me.

I ran until my legs ached, and I saw an abandoned, crumbling building ahead. It was dirty, covered with spray paint, and there was no way he’d find me here.

I ducked inside the peeling entryway, running through different rooms under a sign that readHollowbrook Haunted House.

Where the fuck was Hollowbrook?

Shaking my head, I ducked into a large room, fluorescent lights flickering. I lined my body against the concrete wall, hoping if I stayed quiet, there was no way he’d find me.

So I waited. I crouched on the ground, hiding in the shadows of the far corner.

“Little pen pal,” Enzo called out, his footsteps muffled as they crunched against the gravel. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

I giggled, confident that he wouldn’t find me in there. It was too dark, and I was too far into the building.

But his footsteps echoed, giving the impression that he was everywhere all at once. I couldn’t tell where he was, and when the door to my hiding spot creaked open, I gasped.

He rushed me, and I dodged him, but his arms snaked around me, trapping me against him. He turned, slamming me against the wall, his dark eyes promising to ruin me right where I stood.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his lips a whisper from mine. His hand grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, his other hand wrapping around my throat, the cold blade of a knife pressing against my skin.

His knife gleamed in the low light, the edge already kissed with my blood from last week. He wrenched my dress down, exposing my breasts.

“You belong to me,” he murmured, pressing the tip of the blade just below my collarbone.

I gasped as the sharp bite of steel pricked flesh, pain blooming in red. I whimpered as Enzo deliberately stroked his knife, slowly carving letters into my skin. Blood trickled between my breasts, over my nipples, the warmth a strong contrast against the cold night air.

I whimpered, torn between agony and something darker, something deeper.

Enzo leaned back, admiring his work—his name, etched into me forever.

His fingers dipped into the blood, dragging it to his lips. He licked them clean. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a possessive kiss against the fresh wound. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

I knew that he’d ruined me, and I never wanted to be saved.

“Now strip,” he ordered.

“Make me,” I breathed.

He smiled, fucking smiled at me, and I knew that he wouldn’t stop until he broke me. No amount of pain, blood, or tears would stop him.

He turned me around and slammed me against the wall, pinning my face to it as I whimpered, my raw flesh pulsing on my chest.

Enzo pushed my sleeves down my arms, my low neckline allowing him to push my dress down my body. It slid over me like a caress and pooled at my feet.

“Spread,” he commanded, his knife nudging my thighs. I whimpered, already on edge with him branding me, my skin buzzing. He nicked my thigh,and I yelped, spreading my legs wider, exposing my bare pussy.

He groaned at the sight, pressing the flat of his blade along my ass, spreading my cheeks as he spat on my back hole.

I heard him suck on something and stiffened when a finger pressed against the tight ring of muscle before I relaxed, and it slipped inside my ass.

“So tight,” he gritted, thrusting his finger a bit before he added another. My pussy clenched, begging to be filled, but I was at his mercy as he filled me, using me for his own pleasure.

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