Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
The fear excites me. Makes me hot.
I’ve never had such a sexy guy out to murder me. How would he do it? A knife? A gun? Or would he put his large hands around my neck and squeeze?
The threat of danger amplifies my arousal. The fear twists with lust, transforming it into something wicked and delicious. Something beautiful and deadly. Toxic.
My favorite!
As soon as I climb into bed at night, I slip my hand into my panties and find myself already slippery and wet. I don’t even need to crack my favorite Viking romance novel—the one with a muscular, long-haired, blond guy on the cover.
There’s a creak outside my window. I freeze before realizing it has to be the wind shaking the oak tree and making the branches scrape against the glass pane. There’s no one there, of course. No reason for goosebumps to spread over me, imagining someone watching me.
Imagining him watching me. Stripping me bare with his gaze. I run a hand down my chest, between my breasts, and to my belly. I’m quivering, thinking of him.
I touch myself for a while, just picturing him. I didn’t see his whole face, but what I did see captivated me. The dark ocean of his eyes, the blue broken by a white starburst around his pupils. His long hair, dirty blond with a little curl to it. The tip of one ear peeked out, and it was misshapen like it had been turned inside out. His tattoos were faded but beautifully sinister. One of them, a spiderweb, covered the back of his right hand.
I imagine that hand around my neck, trapping me, holding me down so I can’t breathe…
And I come so hard, my head rings, and my ears echo with the sound of my moans.
What the fuck was that? I usually need a lot more stimulation to get off, but this time I didn’t even take the time to grab my vibrator.
I lay with limbs splayed, unable to move. The wind rustles the leaves outside my window, and I feel it again—the sensation of being watched.
I’m alone in the big house. I like being alone, but lately, I’ve wondered if it’s safe. Every creak of the hardwood floors makes me nervous.
I fall asleep, imagining the masked man standing over my bed, keeping guard.
Friday morning, I head out early. I’ve dressed in a pink plaid skirt and a short white top that shows a strip of skin above my belly button. I even put my hair back into twin pigtail braids.
I look like prey. A cute, innocent schoolgirl, all alone.
I sense my stalker’s presence as soon as I hit the end of the block and pull out my phone to use as a mirror, pretending to check my hair. I don’t see a hair on Blondie’s head.
But then—there, in the forest. Are those shadows dappling the truck of an oak tree or a man in a skull mask?
I whirl around but… no one’s there. No man, masked or otherwise. The leaves of a nearby beech tree tremble, but that could just be the wind.
Or it could be him.
Either way, he’s good. I like this game!
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I blow a big bubble of watermelon-flavored gum and let it pop in my face before licking it off my lips, using plenty of tongue. I’m trying to be sexy to lure him out, but I’m not sure if I’m nailing it.
I shrug and continue on. Today I’m going to eat breakfast at the infamous Three Diner instead of one of the Principessa bakeries.
Three Diner is close to campus, in a run-down area of Metropolis that’s escaped gentrification. The shiny silver exterior hasn’t changed in fifty years.
The place is packed when I walk in. A tattooed waitress in a pink uniform greets me with a grunt. “Only seats available are at the bar.”
“Can I wait for a booth?”
“No.”
I must take too long to decide because she turns her back on me. Rude waitstaff is another perk of the diner.
The door jingles behind me, and in walks a group of guys I recognize from orientation day with Honey. Lacrosse players. They look like they’ve recovered from their bout with food poisoning, but their energy is less cocky, more subdued.
They’ve suffered an L and everyone knows it.
One of them sees me, and recognition flares in his eyes. He nudges his buddies. One by one, they fall silent and turn to glare at me. They know I cost them the championship. Radley must have clued them in.
I smack my gum and give them a happy little wave. Their faces flush. Oooh, they’re mad. Are they gonna do anything about it? Most guys are taught to never hit a girl. Supervillain Rule #2: It’s easy to beat an opponent who plays by the rules.