Severed Ties: A Dark Stalker Romance (Tainted Love Book 1) by Montana Fyre

Author:Montana Fyre [Fyre, Montana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 36

Tommy

If I ever needed confirmation that I’m a crazy fuck, this might be it.

Because not only did the woman I’m obsessed with shooting me after finding out I’ve been stalking her for months, which turns me the fuck on, but now all I can think about is fucking her. Images of my blood smeared across her milky-white skin fill my mind and blind me. I need it. I need her. And nothing on this earth can stop me from taking her. Certainly not a fucking bullet.

Her small body presses further into the wall as she tries to escape my heat, but she’s not going anywhere. If I have it my way, she’ll spend the rest of the day pinned beneath me, taking my cock over and over again. She snapped the only restraint I had left when she shot me, and now I’m going to take what I want.

I take a step back and pick up my knife from where I’ve deposited it on the bed. I’ve never used this one to kill anyone, always saving it to cut my own skin when my demons overwhelm me, but tonight it will be Clara who bleeds beneath the blade. I hold her still by the cuffs around her wrist and carefully slice the back of her sweater. The fabric gives way easily and Clara hisses in a sharp intake of breath at the sudden cold on her back as the wool parts.

“Tommy,” she whimpers, but she’s dead still, not brave enough to move a muscle with a knife so close to her. “I really think you need to see a doctor.”

And give her a chance to run? I don’t fucking think so. This ends today. The back-and-forth. The stalking. The tiptoeing to make sure she doesn’t get freaked out by my intensity. My aversion to touch. It all ends here.

I crouch down behind her until my face is level with her delicious ass. Fuck, this thing is a work of art. Pert and round, firm but soft. I don’t know how she’s managed to keep men away from her all this time, but I’m fucking glad for it. The body count on my conscience is long enough without adding a list of men who have touched my woman.

Her body trembles beneath my touch and I’m addicted to her fear. As if this woman didn’t already own my pitch-black soul, now her fear calls to me like a siren in the deep. I carefully slice through her yoga pants, making sure not to nick her with the blade just yet.

Clara will bleed for me tonight, but not until I’m ready.

Her breathing picks up as one of the legs gives way and I start on the other side. Each inch of skin I uncover is more delectable than the last, and I long to taste her. The thought is foreign, but it doesn’t make the demons crawling beneath my skin try to escape. It almost settles them.

Sex has always been about control. Pain.

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