10. Role-Play

10

Role-Play

Violet

Nixon takes a step back. His eyes dart from Saint to where he has his hand wrapped around my stomach. "Oh hey, Liam. Your girl and I were just talking. I swear."

"Liam?" Saint repeats, quiet enough that I'm the only one who hears it.

I look over my shoulder at him, expecting to see those haunting blue Xs for eyes, but tonight, he's wearing a ski mask. And with no light in the room and the hallway being dim, I can't make out anything more than dark eyes—too buried in the shadows for me to decide if they're familiar.

All I know is that Saint isn't Liam, even if Nixon seems to think so. It makes sense, given they're the same height and similar builds. That, and the fact that Saint's hand is casually wrapped around me like he's my boyfriend and not the man who killed him .

"Is this some kind of weird role-play or something?" Nixon asks, his eyebrows pinching as he takes in Saint's ski mask.

"Hear that, Violet?" Saint's gravelly voice sends a shiver up my spine. "Want to do a little role-play?"

I shake my head because I don't know what Saint has in mind, but his voice drops, and the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me that whatever he's thinking can't be good.

"Don't lie to me, kitten." Saint drags his hand up my chest, gripping my throat and using his thumb to force my chin toward Nixon. "We both know you want to. You're the one who started this by accidentally finding yourself alone in here with him after I warned you not to."

"I was looking for a bathroom."

"With company?" Saint tightens his grip on my throat, making my breath stutter. "I think you wanted to see if I'd live up to my threats because you're a curious little kitten and had to know where I'd draw the line. It's cute that you think I have one. Especially where your safety is concerned."

"My safety?"

"Did you think he'd just take no for an answer? You should know him better than that." Saint presses his nose to the back of my hair and inhales through the ski mask.

And I don't know what's making my skin prickle more—Saint holding me close or what he's insinuating. That being down here alone with Nixon is as dangerous as being with Saint. I've heard the rumors around campus that Nixon can be aggressive in relationships, but I never saw that side of him, so I didn't think much of it.

Not until Nixon had me alone in this room, and something about the shift in his expression didn't feel right.

"Do you want my loyalty, Violet?" Saint's voice is low in my ear. "Do you want to see how far I'll go for you?"

"No," I whisper.

Nixon steps forward. "I can leave you two."

"Stop." Saint's voice thunders through the room, freezing Nixon in place.

My heart races as he releases my throat, and I choke for a breath.

"You wanted that date with my girl, didn't you, Nix? The one she never gave you?" Saint's fingers trail slowly down between my breasts. "You wanted to know how she tastes."

Saint reaches the hem of my skirt and slips his hand under it, dragging the backs of his knuckles along the inside of my thigh, peeling my panties aside.

"How do you taste, kitten?" He drags two fingers through me, putting pressure on my entrance and teasing that line.

Once he coats his fingers in my excitement, he pulls them out and lifts his ski mask just enough to shove his fingers in his mouth.

"So sweet."

My eyes widen as Saint sucks his fingers into his mouth again. He's tasting me. His tongue rolls slowly, and the vision of all the wrong things he could do to me plays in my mind .

When he's done, he reaches his wet fingers into the back of my hair and tugs my neck to the side, licking a path up it before pulling down his ski mask again.

"You want to know what you're missing, Nixon?" Saint tightens his grip in my hair with his question.

He's pulling hard enough that my back arches, and there's a shift in his tone as anger festers.

"I didn't mean to—" Nixon starts.

"By all means," Saint interrupts him, releasing my hair and shoving me into the room.

I stand frozen as Saint shuts and locks the door, his focus on me as he does. With the door closed, the only light left comes from a nightlight on one wall. I watch as Saint moves like a shadow through the darkness, sinking into the chair in the corner.

"You want to taste her, don't you?" Saint asks Nixon again, leaning back and watching us. "I promise she's sweet."

"I bet."

Saint stretches his arms out across the arms of the chair. "Then, by all means."

"What?" I take a step back. "You can't—"

My legs are shaking as I wrap my arms around my center. My voice stutters. And the man who killed my boyfriend sits amused, watching us like I'm nothing more than a toy he gets to play with.

It hurts. It shouldn't— but it does.

"On the bed, Violet," Saint demands.

I roll my shoulders back, pretending I'm as strong as I can be in this moment. "No. "

"You'll do what you're told." He clicks his tongue. "You know it only gets worse if you don't."

"But—"

"Don't test me."

Saint doesn't flinch. He doesn't need to. I've seen what he's capable of, and if I don't do what I'm told, there's a chance neither Nixon nor I will walk out of this room.

Taking a step forward, I slowly make my way to the edge of the bed. My entire body is shaking as I sit and grip the blanket.

"Panties off."

Saint's angry, but he's still issuing commands like he's maintaining control.

Reaching under my skirt, I hook my thumbs into my underwear and lift enough to drag them down my legs.

"Lie back, kitten. Spread your knees and show Nixon how perfect you are."

I'm trembling as I lean back on my elbows, and all eyes in the room are on me.

Of all the cruel things Saint has done, the realization he'll share me just because I dared to stand in a room with another man cuts the deepest.

What else did I expect from a psychopath?

Staring into his dark, demonic eyes, I spread my legs.

Nixon groans, and my stomach sinks.

Saint's attention has me wet when I shouldn't be. I'm sick, feeding on the fear he inflicts, and even if I don't want this, the fact that he does has my heart fluttering.

"Taste her," Saint demands.

Nixon doesn't seem to realize the situation he's put himself in. He still thinks this is a kinky sex scenario between me and my boyfriend. He doesn't know my boyfriend is dead, and he's taking orders from his killer—a man who slit Liam's throat for talking to me wrong.

And with what he's ordering Nixon to do, I'm not sure what will come next.

"If you say so, man."

Nixon drops to his knees at the foot of the bed, planting his hands on my inner thighs and spreading me wider.

My core tightens as Nixon's attention turns to my pussy, and Saint watches. And then he dives down, taking me like he's kissing my mouth. Sweet when Saint is anything but.

Nixon's tongue swirls over my clit, and I grip the blanket.

With Saint's focused attention, I'm anxious and building. I'm unable to resist as my body wakes up to things I shouldn't want.

Saint always pushes me too far. Past limits I don't yet understand. And as Nixon works for my pleasure, I can't help but imagine it's Saint's tongue between my legs instead.

My stalker.

My boyfriend's killer.

And I want him, even if I can't say that out loud because it's wrong on every level. He wants to hurt me, along with anyone who gets close to me. Fear rattles my heart, yet my stomach churns with something else .

The longer I stare at Saint, the pressure starts to build. My core tenses and my lashes flutter. His hands grip the chair, and I imagine it's his fingers digging into my thighs. His mouth warming my core. His eyes watching me react.

I exhale on a moan, hating that he's drawing out my darkness.

The moment the sound escapes my lips, Saint is on his feet, circling the room. Tension builds between my legs and in the air. Everything is about to snap, and it's terrifying. Hot . Wrong.

My pussy pulses as the tension builds. And builds. And as Saint reaches the bed, towering over both of us, I'm on the verge of erupting.

Nixon doesn't notice Saint standing over him, but he's all I see. Towering, making my pussy quiver. I tense, my core warming as everything starts to crest, but right as I'm on the verge, Saint reaches down and grabs Nixon by the hair, pulling him off me.

Nixon's neck strains as he's forced to look up at Saint.

"What the fuck, dude?" Nixon reaches for Saint's wrists, but before he can grab them, Saint has a knife at his throat, and he freezes.

"She tastes good, right?" Saint asks him. "Like fucking paradise?"

Nixon doesn't answer, doesn't so much as move, as the blade is already digging into the soft flesh of his neck.

"Remember that when you're rotting in hell." Saint drags the blade across Nixon's neck, splitting it open .

Blood pours down the front of him as his breath gurgles. Splatter spots my calves as it spurts out, and I push myself back on the bed.

But there's no escape; I already know that.

Saint shoves Nixon's body to the side to bleed out on the floor. Then he climbs onto the bed over me.

My eyes are wide as I glance down at Nixon on the ground beside us. Blood puddles around him. Pools of rage Saint paints in my name.

Saint lifts his bloody blade to my throat, and my attention snaps back to him. The point of it sits just beneath my ear, cutting into the soft flesh ever so slightly.

"Did that feel good, kitten?" He drags his nose along my jaw, slipping his other hand under my skirt and grabbing my pussy so hard I groan. "Did you enjoy having another man's tongue between your legs?"

"No," I whisper.

"Don't lie to me."

I try to shake my head, but the blade scrapes my skin. "I didn't want that."

He grabs my pussy harder. "You moaned for him."

"I moaned for you." I dare to grab Saint's wrist. The backs of my fingers graze the handle of the knife, but I don't try to pull away because there's no overpowering him. "I don't want to be shared. But you didn't give me a choice. And I was scared, so I focused on you. I moaned for you ."

He presses close. Familiarity and fear bleed together as he holds me .

"I don't share, kitten." Saint hovers his face over mine, and all I see are those dark eyes cutting through the ski mask. "I granted a dying man his last meal before I sent him to hell for touching what's mine. There's a difference."

"You can't kill everyone who puts a hand on me."

"But I can." He ticks his head to the side, tosses the blade to the bed, and grips the back of my hair, tipping my head. "I can do whatever I want when it comes to you. And I will, Violet. I'll prove my loyalty in blood. In screams. In death."

His nails dig into my scalp, and he grips my hair harder.

"Saint," I moan.

"Yes, kitten." He drags his face along my neck, inhaling. "I'm your Saint. Don't you fucking forget it."