Page 21 of Fright Night
“Why do you insist on not letting me sleep a full night?”
More silence.
Huffing, I shift, realizing too late our position. With myself stuck on my back, Knox is in complete control, able to lower or lift himself as desired. And he’s chosen to be low; the roughness of his jeans rubs against my core, my shirt having got pushed up at some point.
Note to self: start wearing pants to bed.At least, I’m wearing panties. Small miracles.
“You gonna talk?”
His head tips to the side, revealing a strip of skin above the collar of his shirt. A streak of white in a dark room, matching the creepy orange from his mask. For a second, it feels like I’mina horror movie, where the masked serial killer stares to freak out their victims while planning their attack seconds before enacting it.
Heat builds in the base of my stomach. Terrified of the fact, yes, but also intrigued.
Ugh, not the time.
“You’re being weird. And annoying. And an asshole. Keeping me awake all night last night wasn’t enough? Because of you I had the longest day of work today.”
Still silent.
My body tingles again, but this time with less pleasure than earlier.
“Can youpleasesay something?” Something I never thought I’d beg of him. “This is irritating.”
It’s like talking to a damn wall.
“Knox, this isn’t funny. I’m exhausted.”
Maybe it was my words, maybe it was something else, but he finally moves. Shifting forward, he reaches for something on the bedside table, and as he returns, his index finger trails down my bare arm until reaching my chest. There, he reveals theswitchblade in his grip, which he flicks open with a lowwhooshthat sounds similar to the blood rushing through my ears.
Panic seizes me and I curse the binds. “Uh, Knox?”
He brings the knife down, making my breath quicken. Aware there’s only inches of space, I lift my hips, attempting to buck him off. It’s a feeble attempt that accomplishes nothing but rubbing my core against the hardness between his legs. An effect we’re both clearly aware of, based on the low rumbling that seeps from behind the mask.
Clearly, I’m dumb for thinking that would have worked.
Because you wanted to entice him,the slithering voice of my unwanted consciousness taunts.You wanted to see how he’d react.
Ignoring the way my thighs crave wrapping his waist and rocking on him, the knife continues advancing towards me until I’m forced to stop moving or risk being cut. He positions the blade’s tip at my collar and uses it to drag the material lower.
“Wh-what are you doing?” My body stills because moving won’t end well for me.
There’s no answer but a nick into my shirt.
“Knox. Stop.” My plea is punched out between short words and even shorter breaths—both an effect of two contrasting feelings. “Please. This isn’t funny.” Begging him makes my tongue sour, but I’ll suck all the sourness from the word until my mouth tingles if it gets him off me.
He slices into my shirt until reaching the dip between my breasts. If he keeps cutting, my breasts will end up on display.
To Knox.
Why does that seem appealing?
Knox, who still isn’t showing any sign of speaking.
Wait…what if this isn’t Knox?The thought punches into my gut, as sharp as the blade against my skin.
He said he’s staying with a friend and that he had people checking on me. What if this is one of them, sent on Knox’s command? He’s staying quiet because it’d give away his voice.
If this isn’t Knox, it’s a stranger pinning me down.
