Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,72

my eyes on him at all times. He tugs the leather fastened to the band around my neck, causing me to fall into his arms.

“Careful there, Princess.” He grins.

“You pulled,” I say, as I try to keep standing without having my hands available to hold onto something.

“I want you to feel what it’s like to be controlled by someone else,” he muses, hauling me closer with the leash. “And how does it feel?”

“It feels wrong.”

The left side of his lip curls up. “Wrong can be good sometimes.” He lifts the knife in his other hand and runs it along my cheek, making me shiver. “I like it better this way …” he murmurs. Then he cuts into my skin. I have trouble not making a sound as the blood drops roll down my face.

“So beautiful …” he whispers. “Such a shame I have to fuck it all up.”

“Why?” I ask. I don’t understand his obsession with my blood.

He leans in, his tongue dipping out to pick up a droplet of blood. “Because you won’t be able to lie anymore once you’re just as ugly as I am. Except where I’m only ugly on the inside, you’ll be ugly on both sides.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

He stops and looks at me for a moment, just breathing in silently.

“Liar,” he murmurs.

“No. It’s the truth,” I say. “Why else would I get so …” I smash my lips together.

“Excited?” A spark ignites in his eyes. “Hmm …”

The cut in my cheek isn’t deep, but it sizzles and burns like hell. Damn him. I can’t keep up with him; he keeps changing his behavior.

“You know. I could get used to this,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

He leans in to whisper in my ear, “You as my pet instead of an enemy.”

I suck in a breath when he places a kiss on my neck, the knife still inches away from puncturing my skin again. It’s such a double message; I don’t know what to think or feel which is exactly what he wants.

He whispers, “I think I’d rather keep you alive than let you die without having had any fun.” The blade slides down and underneath my chin. “Do you agree?”

I nod, careful not to cut my own skin with his knife.

“And I’m having so much fun right now,” he whispers, pulling the leash even tighter as if he wants to hear me gasp. “And I can tell you are, too.”

“What gives it away?” I jest as sarcastically as I can.

“Oh, don’t think you can hide your excitement from me, Vanessa. I know how much you’ve craved a strong hand like mine.” The knife drifts down my arm, almost as if he’s caressing me with it. “All those years in a dried-up marriage must have left you so hungry …” He growls in my ear, licking my earlobe. “Hungry for a real man.”

I take in a ragged breath feeling him smile against my skin. As much as I want to deny his claims, I have to admit that I’ve always wanted a strong, independent, dominant man, someone who was capable of claiming my heart without me handing it to him on a platter. Someone who loved me for who I was, no-holds-barred.

Except I don’t want him to be that man.

How could he be? After all the things we’ve done to each other?

“C’mon,” he says, and he pulls my leash, dragging me with him toward the kitchen.

I’m surprised to find a table for two already decked out. My surprise seems to catch his attention.

“Have I impressed you?” he asks, tying my leash to a wooden beam.

“Expecting company?”

He frowns, as if he doesn’t get my question. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Are you saying that you set the table for me, too?”

“Well, like I said, I thought you might be hungry.” His smirk is so incredibly annoying and sexy … god, I’m not sure if I want to scold him or smile back.

Especially when he starts biting his own lip ring … fuck, that’s hot.

Jesus, why am I thinking about this?

“Sit,” he commands, which gives me an excuse not to think about it. “On the back of your feet.”

I sit down on the floor, but he’s tied the leash so high that it forces me to keep my head up. “Don’t move,” he says. “You know what happens if you do.”

In this position, in the corner of the room, I look like a girl waiting for someone. Always waiting … waiting for him. Just