Page 39 of Death Rydes Shotgun

In one fluid, crushing motion, I shove her arm back, pinning her hand flat against the rough wood of the support beam behind her.

With a forceful motion, I slide my fingers upward, through hers until our hands are clasped against the post.

Leaning over her, I bring my face down to her restrained arm. I open my mouth and sink my teeth sharply into the tender skin on the inside of her wrist, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp.

Before the sting can fade, I swirl my tongue over the sharp mark of my bite, soothing the raw skin, then press a hot, lingering kiss to her hammering pulse.

I trail a line of burning kisses up the soft inside of her forearm, tracing every inch of her skin toward her elbow, all the way to her neck. I don’t rush, because I want to savor this moment, and as badly as I know she wants this, I like her desperate. I want her writhing and wild; I want to unleash the darkness I know she’s hiding.

Harmony doesn’t fight me. Instead, she turns her head away from me, elongating her neck and offering up her throat to me, like a vampire’s prey

I lean in closer, pressing my lips directly against the shell of her ear, my voice dropping into a low, lethal growl. “Don’t fucking move, pretty girl.”

I pull back just far enough to look down at her heaving cleavage, watching the rise and fall of her rapid breath betray her. The golden warmth of her skin glows in the dancing firelight, and the heat between us hits a fever pitch.

I drop my voice to carry a dark, intoxicating weight. “You know… I realized something about you back in that field. When I had you pinned against that tractor.” I bite, my gaze holding hers with unmatched ferocity. “You relish the danger of having a knife at your throat.”

I slowly put the edge of my fingertip up the expanse of her neck.

Her pulse kicks up, and she sucks in a breath as a sinister grin splits my lips.

“Do you enjoy knife play, pretty girl?”

Keeping her arm pinned securely over her head, I reach my free hand down into the front pouch pocket of my discarded hoodie lying in the straw.

My fingers curl around the heavy casing, drawing my folding blade out into the open.

With a sharp, metallic clack, the dull side of my dual blade springs open, gleaming orange in the flickering firelight.

I bring the cold, dull edge of the blade up, resting it flat against the delicate, throbbing vein on her throat—the exact same spot I held her father’s knife hours ago.

Her throat works rhythmically against the steel as she swallows.

Harmony’s eyes widen, her breath hitching in her chest as the freezing steel bites into her heated skin. She stares straight into my dark, crazed eyes, her lips parting as a barely audible whisper slips from her throat.

“Death.”

A quiet, low chuckle rumbles deep in my chest.

I lean down, pressing my lips directly against her jaw, feeling her skin vibrate against my mouth.

I whisper darkly into her skin, pressing the blade just a fraction tighter against her pulse. “Not yet, pretty girl. But you may beg for it before the end.”

The moment the words hit the air, a violent wave of electricity ricochets straight through her body, into mine like lightning.

Every inch of her golden skin erupts in tight, visible goosebumps, a deep, involuntary shiver wracking her frame from her collarbone down to her thighs.

My blood heats, pooling straight to my cock.

Seeing her body betray her so completely—watching her melt into a pool of pure, dangerous surrender under the threat of my steel—tears a dark, seductive moan from the back of my throat.

The raw, possessive, and thick sound stems from a feral hunger I no longer possess any desire to control.

She isn’t terrified of the monster standing over her. She’s addicted to him.

And as her wild heart hammers against the flat of my blade, I know I’m going to ruin her tonight, and she’s going to let me.

I run the dull edge of the blade down the length of her neck, the motion agonizingly slow and patient as I trace the delicate line down to her collarbone. The pressure against her flesh leaves a faint, flush mark in its wake.