Page 137 of Satan's Spawn
I squirm away from him, more so when his hands find my exposed knee, spreading my legs.
How the hell did he know I was dreaming about him?
“What are you doing?” I yelp, pushing them closed and trying to pry him off me, but he’s too strong. All Crayton does is spread me wider, forcing my jean skirt to rise up my hips.
Oh, this is fucked up.
So, so fucked up.
Fiery pits of hell level fucked up.
Yet here I am, at this guy’s mercy once again and not even asking for it.
“You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” He muses, focused on the area between my thighs.
The temperature in this booth is rising fast, the devil’s presence is bound to do that.
Either way I can’t stop it, which isn’t surprising since that deplorable place inside me doesn't even want me to try.
My mouth runs dry so I attempt to swallow, watching as Crayton pulls something out of his pocket.
Oh no.
The knife gleams in the dark when he flips it open, that grin nowhere to be found.
In its place is unchained lust, and a glint of hatred.
“I listened to your confession,” Crayton runs the tip of the blade up my inner thigh, the sting from skin breaking making me hiss. “Now tell me more about those desires you spoke of.” The blade slides behind my skirt, and I can feel it toying with my most private places. “Do they include something like this?” Crayton lowers his face to where he cut me, running his tongue along the streak of red.
“Fuck…” I breathe, licking my lips as his suction reaches the tender area.
I’m on fire in every sense of the word.
And my body may combust if it doesn’t get some sort of release soon.
Now that I’ve experienced a real orgasm, I’m desperate for another one and am still unable to attain one myself.
It’s as if my body needs his corruption to find pleasure.
A guttural sound erupts from Crayton’s chest right before my panties rip in one swift motion, my skin unscathed but exposed completely to him.
My dirty thoughts have included so many scenarios just like this, sans the holy grounds it’s taking place in.
I really am going to hell.
Well, at least I know the keeper there.
“We are in a confessional, Crayton.” I try to reason with him, but I can’t even convince myself to put an end to this.
“I’ve done a lot worse in one of these, trust me.” He continues exploring me with his knife, turning it around to run the back of it along the slit of my pussy.
It makes me needy, and wet, and certifiably insane.
“You’ve been bad, Little Ghost.” He circles my clit, then presses the metal harder against it.
I wince from the pressure, which is mixed with a pain that’s intoxicating. I wiggle in the seat, chasing more of the feeling.
Crayton can sense it because he lets out a deep chuckle.
