Page 75 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
“You can’t see it all unless I take this off, but you’ll never get that part of me.” I lean down close, then grab her jaw and twist her head so she isn’t looking at me anymore. “What it says is true,” I whisper into her ear.
I can’t touch her anymore.
I remove my fingers from her and push them into her mouth.
Obediently, scared, she parts her lips and I shove my fingers to the very back of her throat. I feel her gag, my hand splayed along her jawline, over the top of her neck.
She is nothing but a body to me right now, having physical, bodily reactions. I feel nothing, making her convulse. I feel nothing, speaking horror into her ear.
“Iamfucking pathetic,” I whisper, speaking the words Stein carved into my chest, starting just below the lump of flesh on my throat. There are worse things, too, written onto my torso, over my kidneys along my back. ButI am pathetichurt the most. I was thirteen and Stein caught me watching porn, hand around my cock as I saw other girls but dreamt of her.
I was naked when he punished me for it and his reaction was only laughter as I spelled each letter out for him, Rex and Arthur and Constance drinking beer as they watched my misery with smirks on their faces.
“And now, so are you.” Then I lower my head and I bite the side of her throat, hard enough she finally,finallystarts to scream around my fingers inside her mouth, teeth gnashing against my skin. I laugh as I taste iron on my tongue and give her enough air to suck in a breath.“Do you want to leave me now?”
Chapter29
Karia
He pushes his fingers further down my throat and saliva edges around the corners of my mouth. A desperate sound wrenches free from my lips, strangled with his hand in the way. My neck stings where he bit me, and my stomach starts to hurt as my head spins. From the wine, from him; I don’t know, but either way, I am grotesquely intoxicated.
Yet Iwantto speak. I want to answer him.No, I don’t want to leave, you stupid boy. I am not scared. You are not frightening. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be.
I bite down on his hand then because I can’t say a word when he’s gagging me with his fingers.
But he doesn’t remove them.
I clamp my teeth harder, feeling the bones beneath and tasting myself on him as I remember how he commanded me to do justthisbefore, when I was sedated for him.
He likes to be bitten. He probably never knew that until me.
A groan leaves his lips, and my body grows hotter, my fingers fisting the sheets because despite the drool around my face and his punishing position, he isn’t hurting me and he doesn’t scare me and I will repeat it inside my head a million times until it’s true.
I dig my incisors deep into the knuckles of his fingers, my pulse pounding inside my temple, but he only pushes himself further down my throat until bile burns up from my stomach and I’m forced to widen my jaw.
Then he abruptly pulls back.
I gasp for breath, my lungs squeezing together as I dig my nails into my palms with the padding of the white sheets buffering the sting.
He is straddling me with his body weight as he jerks my head to face him. His damp fingers tremble as he strokes my hair back from my face in the strangest, most tender gesture, a paradox of what he did only seconds before. His eyes follow the path of his bare fingertips along my cheekbone, his chest heaving beneath his hoodie, eyes wild and dark as he studies my facial structure like it is the most fascinating thing to him.
Like he didn’t just bite me, or gag me, or try to scare me.
Like I didn’t just bite him back.
Or maybe like he wants to break apart every bone beneath my skin.
I tuck my elbows tighter to my body but resist the wild urge to push him off as the wine swirls too fast inside my head and I am trying to catch up with everything that just happened in only a matter of heartbeats.
Through it all, not once did I try to fight him off. I pulled down the collar of his shirt, but I did not push him away. Surely he noticed?
I am pathetic, it’s true, just foryou.
My mind stumbles over the scars under his throat, the jagged words, the inches of flesh desecrated with some sort of blade, dug deep into his beautiful skin.
How dare he?
It’s what comes from my mouth first as he calms, pinning me down with his knees splayed over my hips, our bodies so close and yet his mind is out of reach.
