Page 42 of Ready Or Not

I smirk into the man’s panicked eyes. His mouth opens and shuts wordlessly. I feel my pussy clench. Fuck, if that isn’t the most erotic sight.

Tearing my eyes from the masterpiece under me, I glance up at Rachel. She’s still huddled against the door. After a moment of silence with only the man’s gurgling, Rachel peeks out at me.

I smile at her and step off of him. “So. About the groceries.”

Rachel looks stunned.

I move to the man’s kitchen and fling open the fridge door. “Come here and tell me what you want.”

I hear no indication that she’s obeying.

I glance back. Rachel is looking at me again with a blank look. It’s curious. It’s like she retreats into some sort of shell involuntarily.

I know exactly how that feels.

I grab a thing of BBQ sauce off the rack and slam it down on the counter, breaking her out of whatever trance she’s in.

“What…the fuck?” Rachel gasps.

“Food. Let’s go. You don’t like venison, and that’s about the only thing I have.”

“You’re fucking insane.” Rachel trembles.

I shrug.

“Did you kill him?” Her voice is getting higher.

I give her a blank look. “The human body can’t live without blood. So yes. I did.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Fire lights behind Rachel’s eyes.

“Hmmm, nothing?” I motion at the fridge, annoyance flitting through me. She’s starting to sound like my mom.

“Nothing?” Rachel’s damn near screaming. She stomps over to me, and her body is shaking. She shoves against me. Hard.

“You killed someone!” she screams. Her face is red, but her eyes—her eyes are sparkling and alive. She looks at me with a mixture of hatred and…fear. Not of the noise. Of me.

My pulse pounds in my clit, and I snatch her up. Rachel fights me, but I don’t care. I hold her soft body against me, kissing the ever-loving shit out of her. Reveling in her fight. Soaking in her fear. It’s like a drug. She makes me heady.

I shove my hand down Rachel’s pants. She screams at me, getting a good scratch down my face. I just push her back into the kitchen island. I flip her over, pinning her solidly with myhand across her back, then put my bloody hand down her pants again.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” she screams.

The sound shivers down my thighs, and I groan. If she keeps making sounds like that, I’ll come in my pants without any touch.

As soon as my fingers hit Rachel’s soft pussy, I melt into her body. She tries to squirm away from me, but I don’t let her. This body is mine. I own it. And I own her. The sooner Rachel figures that out, the better.

“Let me go! I want to go home. Please, let me go.”

I keep a steady pressure on Rachel’s clit, rubbing her from behind until she stiffens. Rachel fights the pleasure every damn time. It’s like she refuses to let me give it to her.

Which is unacceptable.

I rub until I feel her suck in a breath.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck you,” she hisses. “I’m not fucking gay.”