Torture to Her Soul
Page 51
I lead Karissa to the front door of the house when we get there, my hand pressed against the small of her back. She steps up onto the small porch, waiting, as I dig for the right key. It takes a moment as I fumble with the new locks, a strange sensation creeping up my back, prickling my spine.
The hair at the nape of my neck stands on end.
Key halfway into the lock, I freeze as the feeling consumes me, my muscles taut as I strain my ears. There's somebody there. Carefully, I turn my head, slowly surveying the dark neighborhood around us, looking and listening, but I see nothing.
Nothing but blackness.
I'm not a fool, though. The darkness can't trick me. Just because I don't see it doesn't mean it's not there. I sense it, feel it crawling across my skin.
Somebody's watching us.
Somebody's watching me.
Somebody's watching her.
I scan the area again, waiting for something to happen, for someone to appear out of the shadows, and damn near jump when someone touches me. My eyes dart to the hand on my arm before I look at Karissa, seeing her eyeing me peculiarly. "Is something wrong, Naz?"
Yes, I think.
Something is definitely wrong.
Somebody is here.
I glance behind me again, giving one last look at the street, before turning back to her, offering a small smile so not to alarm her. She's too drunk to feel it right now, I think. "It's nothing."
I turn the key, finishing the last lock, and push open the front door. I motion for her to go ahead of me inside, trying to shove down those feelings of being watched as they nag at me. Karissa doesn't listen, though, wavering on the porch, before she steps closer until she's almost flush up against me. I stare down at her, watching as she slowly licks her lips.
She reaches up on her tiptoes but I stop her, palming her cheeks, cradling her face in my hands. I hold her there, her lips a few inches from mine, as I stare into her dark eyes, looking for some sign of uncertainty.
"You're drunk," I say seriously. "You don't know what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she whispers. "I'm just a little drunk. I'm not an idiot. I know who you are... what you are... I know what you've done. And I know what I'm doing, too. I know what I want."
"And what's that?" I ask. "What do you want?"
She reaches up and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face. She's not strong enough to force me to move them, but I don't resist. She pushes back up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine as her eyelids flutter closed.
I kiss her back, but I keep my eyes open.
That feeling won't stop, won't go away, building and building inside of me. I'm paranoid and starved, too damn exhausted to deal with it. As soon as I try to pull away from Karissa's lips, she wraps her arms around my neck and pushes me toward the open doorway, into the foyer. I step backward, finally breaking the kiss, and look out at the street again suspiciously.
A shadow moves in my peripheral.
Maybe it's my imagination.
Maybe I just need some fucking sleep.
My head turns that way, but I see nothing in the darkness, nothing but trees and grass, cars and mailboxes. Fireworks pop off in the distance, filling the air with loud cracks like far away gunshots, causing wounds that Karissa soothes when she kisses me again.
Fuck it.
I slam the door closed, tinkering with the locks, making sure every one of them is secure before giving her my undivided attention. Whatever's out there, be it friend or foe, the shadows or the wind, isn't going to get inside and hurt what I have right here.
We make our way upstairs, not rushing but not hesitating, her lips glued to mine, her arms wrapped around my neck. I kiss her deeply, each second more passionate, as my hands settle on her hips, fingertips brushing the bare skin beneath the hem of her shirt.
I break the kiss long enough to pull her top off. She raises her arms straight up in the air, surrendering to me as I strip her. Her clothes are discarded fast but I intend to take it slow, to savor every moment.
I pull her onto the bed, climbing on top of her fully clothed, my lips moving from her mouth and down her cheek, to her chin and neck, working my way along her jawline. I kiss and nip at the skin, my tongue grazing her salty flesh, as her hands run along my back, beneath my shirt.
Sitting up, I tug it off and toss it aside before my mouth finds her chest. I circle a nipple with my tongue before wrapping my lips around it, sucking on the sensitive flesh. She moans, arching her back, as she fists my hair.
"Please," she pleads when I move to the other nipple, giving it the same attention as I awkwardly kick off my shoes, discarding them at the end of the bed. "Please, Naz."
I kiss along her collarbones before finding her mouth again, smothering her begging with my lips. I shove my shorts down, fumbling to get them off without breaking the kiss, and settle between her legs. The warmth radiating from her makes me shiver. I can still smell the sun on her skin, the scent intoxicating me when I inhale sharply as I push inside of her.
Fuck, she feels so good wrapped around me. So good, that it's hard to believe something like this could ever be bad. That I could ever be wrong for her. And I know I am… I'm the last person she should give herself to… but moments like this, when she gasps, that first sudden exhale, like she's surprised by how perfect we fit together, like she's finally whole again after missing a part of her, gives me hope.
Hope that maybe, even though it's wrong, somehow I can find a way to make it all right.
The hair at the nape of my neck stands on end.
Key halfway into the lock, I freeze as the feeling consumes me, my muscles taut as I strain my ears. There's somebody there. Carefully, I turn my head, slowly surveying the dark neighborhood around us, looking and listening, but I see nothing.
Nothing but blackness.
I'm not a fool, though. The darkness can't trick me. Just because I don't see it doesn't mean it's not there. I sense it, feel it crawling across my skin.
Somebody's watching us.
Somebody's watching me.
Somebody's watching her.
I scan the area again, waiting for something to happen, for someone to appear out of the shadows, and damn near jump when someone touches me. My eyes dart to the hand on my arm before I look at Karissa, seeing her eyeing me peculiarly. "Is something wrong, Naz?"
Yes, I think.
Something is definitely wrong.
Somebody is here.
I glance behind me again, giving one last look at the street, before turning back to her, offering a small smile so not to alarm her. She's too drunk to feel it right now, I think. "It's nothing."
I turn the key, finishing the last lock, and push open the front door. I motion for her to go ahead of me inside, trying to shove down those feelings of being watched as they nag at me. Karissa doesn't listen, though, wavering on the porch, before she steps closer until she's almost flush up against me. I stare down at her, watching as she slowly licks her lips.
She reaches up on her tiptoes but I stop her, palming her cheeks, cradling her face in my hands. I hold her there, her lips a few inches from mine, as I stare into her dark eyes, looking for some sign of uncertainty.
"You're drunk," I say seriously. "You don't know what you're doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she whispers. "I'm just a little drunk. I'm not an idiot. I know who you are... what you are... I know what you've done. And I know what I'm doing, too. I know what I want."
"And what's that?" I ask. "What do you want?"
She reaches up and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face. She's not strong enough to force me to move them, but I don't resist. She pushes back up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine as her eyelids flutter closed.
I kiss her back, but I keep my eyes open.
That feeling won't stop, won't go away, building and building inside of me. I'm paranoid and starved, too damn exhausted to deal with it. As soon as I try to pull away from Karissa's lips, she wraps her arms around my neck and pushes me toward the open doorway, into the foyer. I step backward, finally breaking the kiss, and look out at the street again suspiciously.
A shadow moves in my peripheral.
Maybe it's my imagination.
Maybe I just need some fucking sleep.
My head turns that way, but I see nothing in the darkness, nothing but trees and grass, cars and mailboxes. Fireworks pop off in the distance, filling the air with loud cracks like far away gunshots, causing wounds that Karissa soothes when she kisses me again.
Fuck it.
I slam the door closed, tinkering with the locks, making sure every one of them is secure before giving her my undivided attention. Whatever's out there, be it friend or foe, the shadows or the wind, isn't going to get inside and hurt what I have right here.
We make our way upstairs, not rushing but not hesitating, her lips glued to mine, her arms wrapped around my neck. I kiss her deeply, each second more passionate, as my hands settle on her hips, fingertips brushing the bare skin beneath the hem of her shirt.
I break the kiss long enough to pull her top off. She raises her arms straight up in the air, surrendering to me as I strip her. Her clothes are discarded fast but I intend to take it slow, to savor every moment.
I pull her onto the bed, climbing on top of her fully clothed, my lips moving from her mouth and down her cheek, to her chin and neck, working my way along her jawline. I kiss and nip at the skin, my tongue grazing her salty flesh, as her hands run along my back, beneath my shirt.
Sitting up, I tug it off and toss it aside before my mouth finds her chest. I circle a nipple with my tongue before wrapping my lips around it, sucking on the sensitive flesh. She moans, arching her back, as she fists my hair.
"Please," she pleads when I move to the other nipple, giving it the same attention as I awkwardly kick off my shoes, discarding them at the end of the bed. "Please, Naz."
I kiss along her collarbones before finding her mouth again, smothering her begging with my lips. I shove my shorts down, fumbling to get them off without breaking the kiss, and settle between her legs. The warmth radiating from her makes me shiver. I can still smell the sun on her skin, the scent intoxicating me when I inhale sharply as I push inside of her.
Fuck, she feels so good wrapped around me. So good, that it's hard to believe something like this could ever be bad. That I could ever be wrong for her. And I know I am… I'm the last person she should give herself to… but moments like this, when she gasps, that first sudden exhale, like she's surprised by how perfect we fit together, like she's finally whole again after missing a part of her, gives me hope.
Hope that maybe, even though it's wrong, somehow I can find a way to make it all right.
