Lies of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

I shake my head, but I can’t find the right words to say. It’s impossible when he’s shredding my pants and boxer briefs to pieces and throwing them to the side.

I’m lying completely naked in front of him, short of the sleeves of my jacket and my torn shirt beneath me.

“Was that him earlier?”

“W-what?”

He runs the dull end of the knife up my thigh and to my stomach, leaving shivers in its wake. “The man who cleverly plotted tonight’s attack and held me at gunpoint. Is he your lover?”

“N-no! I’ve never seen him in my life. Besides, would I have shot him if I had any relationship with him?”

“I wouldn’t know. You didn’t really hurt him, so maybe that was part of an elaborate plan to make me trust you again.”

“You think I’d put you in danger again? Me?” I can’t help the sadness that clings to my words.

I thought we were making progress after tonight, but maybe that was all smoke and mirrors. This is Kirill, after all. He wouldn’t simply erase his suspicions, even if I’d died for him.

He’d probably think that I was playing with him in that sense, too.

“I don’t know, Sasha. You did it before.”

My lips tremble, and I turn my head to the side. If I keep looking at his face, I’ll see that he’ll probably never give me a chance, and I’ll probably cry.

I seem to do that a lot around him. It’s ironic that this coldhearted man is the only one who can trigger the emotional part of me.

He places the dull part of the blade beneath my chin and forces me to focus back on him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

I clamp my lips shut in a hopeless attempt to stop them from shaking, then whisper, “Will you ever trust me again?”

“I never trusted you fully, so the again is irrelevant.”

“Then would you at least trust that I’m loyal to you, like before I went to Russia?”

“Give me the name of the fucker who was standing beside you that day, and I will forget about the Russia episode.”

“I told you that…I can’t.”

His eyes rage to a frightening blue that stiffens my muscles, but that soon morphs into hot-red desire when he slides his knife down my throat, pauses at my pulse point before continuing his path to the slope of my breast, and then turns the sharp side on my engorged nipple. I feel no pain, but a trail of blood trickles down my breast and stomach and then pools in my navel.

The sight should be appalling, but pure fascination forbids me from looking away.

“Here’s how it’ll go, Sasha.” He continues the knife’s path over my stomach, hips, and then to the sensitive spot between my legs. “I’m going to keep torturing you until you tell me a name. So unless you give me what I need, you’ll stay here all day…” he trails off, a wolfish smirk tugging on his lips. “What do we have here?”

His fingers slide between my thighs, and a dark look fills his eyes. “Are you wet at the prospect of being tortured?”

“N-no.”

“Your pussy doesn’t sing the same tune your mouth does.” He strokes my opening and teases my clit. “Look how it’s soaking my fucking fingers.”

I have to physically stop myself from humping his fingers and getting off on them. I’ve been in this state of hypersensitivity for so long that I can’t take it anymore.

He glides his fingers through my folds in a torturous rhythm, offering me stimulation but not enough to get me off.

This is a first from him. Kirill was always about getting me off. Whether with his mouth, fingers, or cock. He had the sole purpose of making me come for him and preferably scream his name during it.

But now, he seems to not want me to get off at all.

His middle finger hovers near my opening, and my hips automatically jerk. It’s been such a long time since he touched me, and no matter how much I do it myself, it’s entirely different from when he does it.

I don’t know if it’s the thickness of his fingers, the sheer dominance of his touch, or his delicious intensity, but I’m always left starving for more from him.

Just more.

“You want me to fuck your tight little cunt, Sasha?” There’s harsh amusement behind his words. “Want me to relieve the ache and make you scream?”

I nod once, my cheeks heating, but I couldn’t care less about the embarrassment right now.

“I can do that.” He slides a finger inside, and my back arches off the bed.

Oh, God.

More…more…more…

I need this.

“I can also add another one.” He thrusts the second finger in. “And another. You take three of them like such a good girl. You’re my favorite fuck hole, Sasha.”

When he rams the third finger in, I think I’ll burst. Yes, I used to take three of his fingers, but that was months ago. Being celibate and having only my fingers for company doesn’t help.

“You’re so tight that you’re milking my fingers.” He curls them inside, and my nails dig into the leather belt.

“Kirill…”

“What?”

“Please…”

“You’re going to have to be more specific with your begging. What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me.” And not only with your fingers.