5. No Prince

5

No Prince

Violet

Kitten …

My screen name bounces between my temples as I run. My heart thunders with every step that takes me deeper into the dark forest.

I thought this was random—that the worst Liam had done was trust a hitchhiker—but I couldn't have been more wrong.

This is my fault.

Liam is dead because of a stupid online chat I had three weeks ago. It was supposed to be anonymous. An escape after a long day of school and work. Little did I know who I was speaking to.

Saint .

A man without a name at the time, using a simple devil emoji in its place. A man who baited me for my deepest, darkest fantasies. And like the na?ve girl I am, I handed them over to him.

In detail.

I stumble over a tree branch and fall to the ground. My knee slices open when it strikes a rock, and my wrists throb from the sheer force of catching myself. Everything aches.

I'm out of breath. My heart is racing.

I asked for this. Because I thought it was what I wanted. But this isn't what I had in mind when I googled primal kinks and told the devil that the most intense orgasm I ever had was when I touched myself watching a horror movie.

I didn't think my boyfriend would end up dead on the side of the road to play out some sick fantasy.

My imagination and reality clearly aren't one and the same.

When I admitted to a stranger I wanted to be chased, pinned, taken in a forest so deep no one could hear me scream, I didn't count on Saint.

And yet, as I fumble to my feet, I can't deny my blood is running hot through me with every hard breath. My pulse throbs between my thighs, and my legs are shaky.

When Saint gripped my throat and stole my breath, I felt him. He was rock hard and as desperate as I was in that moment. We aren't the same, but still, he finds a way to call out to the dark side I've been denying.

Picking up my pace, I run again. It's possible I'm going in circles at this point. I've never had a great sense of direction, and it all looks the same with clouds covering a dark sky.

One tree after another. Branches, shadows. Twigs snap, and I don't know if it's me, the animals, or him closing in.

"I can taste your fear, kitten."

I freeze at the sound of Saint's voice humming through the forest. He's closer than I expected when it feels like I've been running for miles.

Pinning myself to a tree, I try to steady my breathing. It's nearly impossible to hear anything other than my heartbeat thumping against my temples and the static in my ears. But I grip the bark and press my lips together, steadying my breath. Listening for any little disturbance in the forest.

Nearby, a twig snaps, and I can't help but flinch.

He's close.

Too close.

Darting forward, I start running again. He's closing in, and if I slow down, I won't have a chance.

I'm not sure what his plans are if he catches me. But what's worse—I can't decide what's driving me forward: fear or anticipation.

Stumbling again, I manage to catch myself before I hit the ground, but it knocks the air from my chest. Choking in another cold breath, I scramble to run when an arm snakes around my waist.

"Got ya."

With one arm tightly wrapping around my center, Saint grabs the back of my hair with his hand, gripping so hard he's tilting my head back and causing my feet to hover just barely off the ground.

I claw at his arms and try to kick his shins, but it just makes him chuckle.

"That's it, kitten." He spins us, pinning the front of my body against a tree, slamming the air from my chest. "Fight me."

I grip the tree trunk and try to use it as leverage to push him off me. But he shoves one knee between my legs and holds me tighter. His hips grind against my ass, and I freeze, feeling the hard length of his excitement.

"You feel that?" He digs his hips forward again, and I hate that my breath hitches. "That's what that fire of yours does to me. Fight me, kitten. I want to feel you squirm."

"You're sick," I bite out.

Saint's nails scrape my scalp as his grip on my hair tightens. "It's what you wanted."

"This isn't what I want."

"Isn't it?" His arm around my waist shifts between me and the tree, and he drags a hand down over my hip to the front of my thigh, slowly inching inward as he runs it where the hem of my shorts meets my fishnets.

Saint drags his fingers into the holes and pulls, tearing them.

"What was it you said?" He leans in close, his voice a low growl in my ear. "You liked how he chased her, but it was her being caught that did the trick. How you slipped your fingers into your wet pussy and soaked your hand at how he fucked her while she screamed for him to stop… until she was screaming for him to fuck her harder instead."

My stomach flutters at the wrong things I admitted to this sick man. He was a devil on the screen, a fantasy never meant to manifest.

"Not like this," I whisper.

"Exactly like this." His fingers inch over my skin again, getting closer and closer as he walks them in between my thighs.

He grips me tight, and even if my shorts are between us, I have to bite back a moan.

"I heard that, kitten." He tips my head back, peeling my cheek from the tree and dipping his chin so his mouth is near my ear. "Your boyfriend's blood is still drying on the pavement, and your pussy is begging you to let his killer fuck you. Isn't it?"

"No." I try to shake my head but can't with how he's holding onto my hair. "I—"

I shouldn't.

It's wrong that my skin prickles, and every twisted thing he says lights me up.

I don't want this.

I can't.

"There's a reason you never let him touch you," Saint says, gripping my pussy harder; the contact lights me up in flames. My body reacts to carnal urges, and my hips drive forward, searching for pressure while my mind battles what's right and wrong.

Saint wakes up the sickness inside me, just like he did the night I admitted every disturbing thing I've ever fantasized about. The night I admitted to him the real reason I'm still a virgin.

"You don't want a boyfriend who will make love to you." He grips my pussy so hard it edges on painful. "You want to be fucked. Taken. Claimed."

He moves his hand, the heel of it grinding over me through my shorts, as he pulls me against his hard cock.

"Admit you want this, and I'll give it to you."

"And if I don't?"

I'm not sure why I'm challenging him. Or even what I want anymore. Just that I can't hear or think as he moves himself over me.

"You do." He moves for the button on my shorts, popping it open. His fingers skate over the bare skin of my hip, teasing the line but not moving in.

This is wrong.

I'm a horrible person.

Liam is dead.

Saint killed him.

And yet, my body reacts to the fear he inflicts.

"I—" I'm not sure what I'm thinking.

His fingers draw a path on my bare skin, and I'm shivering and hot all at the same time.

"Tell me your fantasy, kitten."

Releasing the tree, I grip his wrist, digging my nails in so hard I draw blood, and I admit in the darkness the things I shouldn't. "I want to hurt."

Saint hums in my ear, releasing my hair and spinning me around .

Once more, I'm faced with that glowing mask. Smiling at me. Taunting me.

He grips my wrists and twists them behind my back, pinning me to the tree once more, even if now we're chest to chest.

"Fight me, kitten," he says, jutting a knee between my legs. "Squirm until you're dripping wet."

I'm not sure if I'm fighting him or myself as I thrash my shoulders and try to rip my wrists free from his grasp.

It's no use; his hold is too tight, so I use my legs instead. First, I'm kicking his shins, but he doesn't so much as flinch. So I twist once more, knee him hard, and he finally loosens his grip.

I manage to slip my wrists from between his fingers and shove him off me. His hard chest is nearly immovable, but he's still recovering, so he stumbles back.

Dipping out of his grasp, I make a run for it. My feet ache from my boots rubbing them raw, but I don't let it slow me down. I dip under branches and race through the trees. Not slowing my pace, even if a dark part of me waits for the inevitable.

There's a clearing at a distance, and I see lights through the break in the forest.

A cabin.

The party.

Hope.

For the first time since I was alone on the side of the road with Saint, reality flashes back to me. Back to what he's done .

Liam's body is still on the side of the road, and I'm running from his killer.

I open my mouth to scream when a hand absorbs all the sound. Saint pulls my back to him, grabbing me hard and tackling me to the forest floor. My fingernails fill with dirt as I fight and scratch to escape him, but it's no use.

Pulling my knees in, I try to get some leverage, but Saint's body holds me in place.

His fingers tangle in the back of my hair, and he has my face pinned in the dirt. With his free hand, he grabs my waist and tugs my ass up.

The rational side of me knows I should try to scream again because this is sick. I shouldn't be turned on by the fact that my boyfriend's killer has me like this. But I've never felt more alive than when he rips my shorts down my thighs and digs his fingers into my ass as he grabs it, spreading me wide for him.

My body freezes at the coolness of the earth. The crisp air. At how I'm exposed to him, and he could do exactly what I asked him to when we were talking online. Back when I didn't know he would make it a reality.

"Such a desperate cunt, dripping for me."

Saint's fingers wipe up the inside of my thigh, collecting the wetness coating me between my legs, and dragging his fingers over my pussy.

Rocking my hips back, he grips my ass, holding me in place.

"Greedy little slut, it's not time for that yet."

Again, he rubs his fingers through me, circling my clit once .

"Saint," I moan, no longer able to help myself.

"Yes, kitten." He growls. "I'm your Saint."

He might as well be.

My Saint.

My devil.

My destruction.

He brings out everything I've denied since the first time I got turned on watching a slasher movie.

Slipping his fingers through me once more, he plays with my entrance but doesn't push through, and I'm not sure what's worse, wanting it or knowing I shouldn't.

Saint draws his hand away and grabs the back of my hair, pulling me up to kneeling so my back is to him. He stands, circling around me, towering over me while my shorts are pulled to my knees and my pussy is exposed in the cold forest.

"You want to come, kitten?" he asks me, shoving his fingers in my mouth and forcing me to taste myself.

I nod, unable to speak.

"Too bad." He pulls his hand out and reaches for his belt, slowly unbuckling it as my heart starts to race. "You didn't ask for a prince. You asked to be fucked in the forest like a whore, rough and painful. That's what you get."

Saint slips his belt from the loops and he wraps it around my neck, tightening it like a leash and forcing me to look up at him. My fear alone has me struggling for breath. One pull and he could cut off my air.

Cut off my life.

To my relief, he holds there for only a moment before tossing it to the side .

Saint shoves his pants down in the front, pulling his hard cock out and stroking it with his hand.

My eyes widen at the sheer size of him. I know what I felt against me, but seeing it is something else entirely.

With one hand stroking his length, he grips my throat with the other. "Open that mouth. I want to feel you swallow."

My lips part on an exhale, even if I don't think I'll be able to take what's in front of me. And what's more disturbing is that I want to try.

So bad my core burns as I kneel at his feet.

He slips two fingers into my mouth as his thumb grips my chin, opening me further.

"You're going to have to open wider than that to take me."

I open my mouth wider.

"Have you done this before?" he asks, his voice dropping to a deathly dark tone. "Did you suck your boyfriend's cock before I slit his throat?"

I probably shouldn't answer truthfully, but I don't know what he'll do if I don't, so I nod.

Saint's grip on my chin tightens. "You leave me with one of two options then."

Stepping forward, he brings himself to my mouth, painting my lips with his precum that leaks out.

"I can use my blade to carve the memory of him from your pretty little throat." He wraps his hand around my neck, and fear wells back to the surface. "Or you can take me down it, and I'll mark it where I guarantee he was too much of a pussy to go."

I blink back the tears—the fear, the excitement. And against better judgment, I open my mouth wider for him.

"Good choice, kitten."

Three words and Saint shoves himself in. His cock hits the back of my throat, and I gag around it. But instead of letting up, he tightens his fingers around my neck and holds me in place. His other hand wraps around the back of my head, and he takes away my control.

Saint pulls back before thrusting in again, harder. Deeper.

"Let me feel you swallow."

He shoves deep, and I do as I'm told, swallowing. Tears spill from my eyes, and I can't breathe. But the growl that rips from Saint's chest has me doing it again and again.

He shoves himself in, and I want him to feel every ounce of pleasure from it.

"That throat." He rocks his hips. "Fuck, that throat."

His fingers clench, and his body tenses. He thrusts in harder—faster. His fingers twitch, and it's the only warning I get before his warm release coats my throat.

"Drink me down, kitten. Or I'll make you lick up anything that falls out." He shoves forward, and I swallow hard, trying to keep it all in.

My body shakes from the intensity as he pulses forward again and again with his release.

"Yes, that's it," he praises, slowing his pace.

When he pulls out of my mouth, he looks down at me, messy in front of him, swiping what's dripped on my chin .

"Lick." He crouches down, holding his fingers up between us.

And like the twisted girl I am for this killer, I lick his fingers clean.

"Very good, Violet." He tucks himself away.

Disappointment I shouldn't be feeling rushes through me. "That's it?"

He chuckles, and it echoes through the dark night. "For now."

My eyebrows pinch, and he must sense the shift because he grabs my chin with one hand and forces me to look at him.

"Don't worry, Violet." He rubs his thumb over my mouth. "When I rip your virgin pussy open, it won't be in a dark forest. I want to bathe in the sight of your blood coating my cock. I'm going to mix it with my cum and paint your skin. I'm going to ruin you. All in due time. But for now, sweet dreams. I'll see you soon."

Dreams?

Saint reaches a hand around my face and places a cloth over my mouth and nose. I try to squirm free, but there's no use. My vision spots and my body relaxes as I slump to the ground.