Page 41 of Death Rydes Shotgun

It’s taking all the strength I possess not to ram into her. To not punish her like I have waited for.

I add another finger, stretching her further.

As my palm moves in a circular motion just above her clit, my fingers swirl inside her a few times before I move them in and out of her dripping pussy.

Harmony grips my forearm as her pussy clinches even tighter around my fingers.

“Ryder.” My name, a pleading whisper on her tongue, dancing in the air between us.

I know exactly what she’s begging for, but she’ll have to wait until I decide she can come.

I pull my fingers from her body, and paint her lips with her arousal before leaning in and sucking it off. I plunge my tongue into the warmth of her mouth, allowing her to taste the sweet delicate wine that she is.

Harmony Grove is a taste I will never outgrow.

Harmony wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in. She slants her mouth, allowing me to deepen our kiss.

Using my hands to pull her closer to the warmth of the fire, the space between us evaporates completely.

I take her in a deep, possessive kiss that consumes every doubt lingering in the dark barn.

Harmony moans into my lips, her hands tightening their grip on my shoulders. She sinks her fingernails deep into the skin of my back as she arches up to meet my weight.

I pull back just enough to look down into her hooded, lust-filled gaze.

She licks her kiss-swollen lips, her eyes tracking every shift of my dark frame.

Harmony squirms beneath me.

Trembling.

Wet.

Exactly where I want her.

I stand and stare down at the flushed, unsatisfied creature at my feet tracking my movements as her tongue peeks out past her teeth to lick those pouty lips, tasting what remains of our kiss.

“Get on your knees, pretty girl.”

There’s no wasted motion as Harmony does exactly as I demand without protest.

I pop the button on my jeans and drag them down until they pool at my ankles.

Harmony’s eyes drop, her gaze locking onto the thick bulge still hidden behind my boxer briefs. She stares at the darkened stain of my precum.

Without taking her eyes off me, her hand sweeps blindly over the straw until her fingers find the heavy brass handle of her father’s hunting knife lying nearby. She picks it up and brings the flat, dull spine of the steel up, pressing it firmly against my lower abdomen.

I don’t flinch against the biting cold of the steel. And I don’t back away.

I know the sharp edge is inches from my skin—all she has to do is flip it.

She has the strength to push it forward if she truly wants to end this.

But as I stare down at her flushed, golden skin and dark, hungry eyes, a wild, deranged thought echoes through my mind: I would die a happy man knowing Harmony was mine for the night.

“Who is your favorite slasher film character?” I let my morbid curiosity get the better of me as she holds the blade to my flesh.

Harmony lifts the hunting knife, waving it in the air. “Michael Meyers, duh.”