Page 195 of Wallflower
The deep voice freezes me in my tracks. Rationally, I know it’s probably Rip. I can’t see him though, and that makes my fear of the unknown a living, breathing thing.
I spin in place slowly, searching for his familiar towering physique.
Rocks scuff beneath booted soles as black leather infiltrates a streetlight’s flickering beam.
That’s not Rip.
He left the house in his well-worn white sneakers.
Black cargo pants adorn a deadly frame as my gaze travels up the length of leg being revealed.
Fuck this.
Dropping the towels, I turn and run. Dipping between two buildings in hopes of losing whoever’s on my tail, without getting lost on my way back to the house.
Fear smothers logic. All I see is one of Maximus’s henchmen, chasing me down to use me against Ripley once more.
Sweat slicks down my spine as I whip around a corner. The black flats on my feet have no traction, and I slip on the residual sand coating the concrete. I go down hard, pulse pounding as pain scrapes along my forearms. There’s microscopic grit imbedded in my knees, but I don’t have time to stop. Pausing to brush the dirt off could be the difference between freedom and re-incarceration.
Keeping my steps swift and light, I round in front of Maple Jacks, hoping to catch my breath, and recalibrate my bearings. I try and remember the path home from the diner, but I was moaning and groaning that whole walk.
“Where’d you go, sweet thing?” The taunt echoes around the crisp night air, obscuring its location. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Backing away, I flatten my spine against the damp wood siding. Inching along the wall, I hold my breath until I duck around the corner, sliding into the darkness.
Retreating from the illuminated sidewalk, I risk heaving in a breath. Damn Ripley to hell for leaving me alone in the middle of the night.
A gloved hand clamps down over my mouth, muffling my scream of terror, as an arm of steel bands around my middle. “Found you.” The rough timber of a male voice slides over my skin as a fabric covered face nuzzles against the nape of my neck, inhaling deep.
Revolting against the assailant, kicking and thrashing, proves no use. He groans appreciatively, squeezing tighter, forcing my body flush with the side of the building. His palms skim down my sides, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, as his erection presses into my ass.
With his hand lifted from my face, I have the freedom to move, if only slightly. It’s enough to hopefully smash the back of my head into his face, giving me a few seconds to escape.
“Scared yet, flower?”
The rioting heart in my chest freezes, dropping into my gut.
Turning my head only slightly, I glance out of the corner of my eye. Ripley’s hair hangs darkly around his half-masked face. His eyes are the only thing proving it is, in fact, him. Everything else is obscured, Maximus’s employees uniform covering him near perfectly.
Yes, I was fucking terrified. But that’s none of his business.
Ripley tugs the gaiter down his face, his perfect smile sending a jolt through me. “Way to ruin the moment,” I snip, shaking out of his hold.
Rip’s shocked for a fraction of a second before his fingers dive into my hair, fisting tight.
Titillation quakes my thighs, a gasp slipping out.
“Brat.”
“Put the mask back on,” I demand.
He complies.
Hands moving behind my back, I work to undo his belt, dropping his zipper. His cock, hard and heavy in my palm, makes me ache. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of him—of this, the addicting push and pull between us.
Slipping my hand into his boxers, I stroke him slow. Ripley huffs a moan beneath the mask, thrusting into my grip, urging me for more. I don’t give in.
He yanks my hair, tipping my head back to look down, locking our eyes. “Think you can fuck me good enough to spare your life, slut?” He steps back into the intimidating persona, but now that my fear is abated, he just looks deadly, and it's slicking up my cunt.
