Page 161 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder blade. “You’re going to take my cock like such a pretty slut.”

Another kiss.

“You’ll see.”

My breath catches. Not from the words—but how he says them.

Like I have no choice. Like it’s decided already.

“You’ll look just as beautiful dripping with my cum as you do covered in blood,” he whispers.

He kisses the curve of my bottom—slow, deliberate.

My body twitches, hypersensitive, but I don’t flinch.

“I’ll take the bar off now,” he says, voice low. “But you have to behave for me.”

His words crawl across my skin.

I nod—shaky, spent.

He rotates me gently onto my back and starts with one foot—unlocking the cuff, kissing the sore spot where the strap held me. Then he places my leg at his hip.

Then the other. Kissed. Placed opposite. Spreading me again—not to control, but to be close.

He kneels between my legs, clothed. I’m still bare.

My nightshirt pushed past my breasts.

Then he speaks—and I feel it, deep.

“I want you to obey me, Sunshine. To trust me. Can you do that?”

I nod—smaller, but certain.

He releases the cuffs.

His hands cradle my wrists, thumbs brushing skin, lips kissing each one.

Too gentle. Almost unbearable.

He guides my arms above my head, resting them on the pillow.

“Keep them here,” he whispers, my breath hitting my neck.

And I do.

His hand glides down—tracing my ribs, curving over my hip.

His mouth finds my breast—kissing first, then lapping slowly before pulling it into his mouth.

I moan—soft. Stunned.

I’ve never come in front of someone before. Never found pleasure from sex before. The intensity hasn’t faded—it’s just changed shape.

I can imagine what he’d feel like inside me and the thought makes me clinch.

If he asked for more now, I’d give it.

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