“Nngh, ah! Ah…! H-honey…!”
Rachel flinched instinctively, her legs clamping tight as a sharp wave of pleasure coiled through her lower belly. She knew her role—she had to play the dutiful wife, to cater to Silas’s every whim—yet her body rebelled against a sensory overload it was nowhere near accustomed to.
Silas remained entirely unfazed by her resistance. With casual dominance, he pressed his palms against the insides of her thighs, spreading her trembling legs wider and driving even deeper into her.
“I know why you wouldn’t kiss me.”
“Nhhng! Ugh!”
“Because I skipped your lips and went straight to licking you instead.”
While Rachel twisted and collapsed beneath the onslaught of sensation, Silas managed the encounter with effortless control. He held her very lifeline; Rachel was merely the desperate fraud clinging to him, playing his wife to stay alive.
He deepened the pressure of his fingers, exploring her while his tongue tormented her clitoris, drawing it into his mouth until her hips jerked off the bed. Every stroke sent a thick, heavy heat pulsing through her veins, deepening the dark satisfaction in his smile.
“You should have said something. Or were you too terrified of where it would lead?”
“S-stop…! Ah!”
The wet heat of his tongue and the precise, relentless rhythm of his fingers left her gasping for air. Worn down by what felt like her hundredth climax, she fought to hold onto her sanity. She reached down to push his head away, but he caught her wrist in a light, unbreakable grip. Overpowering her frail attempt at rebellion, he intensified the stimulation, practically daring her to survive it.
“Do you really want me to stop?”
Silas froze, looking up at her with a glint of expectation. His expression offered a cruel, false hope—a silent promise that he might actually grant her mercy if she asked.
She knew better. With those very same hands, he could snap her neck the moment the mood struck him.
“N-no. Please… keep going.”
A pleased smile curled his lips.
“I knew my wife would make the right choice.”
His drawl brushed warm against her inner thighs, but the faint chuckle beneath it sent a chill straight down her spine. The heavy emphasis on the words “my wife” made her blood run cold.
He buried his face between her legs once more, working his tongue over her clitoris with renewed ferocity while sliding a second finger inside her. Tormenting her every vulnerability, his fingers stroked the swollen contours of her inner walls, sending a violent shiver through her frame.
“Because you were honest, I’ll end this part here.”
“I know I’m not… going to sleep yet. Because I’m your wife.”
Silas arched a dark eyebrow at the contradiction, and Rachel immediately corrected herself. As he licked her slickness from his knuckles, she parted her thighs completely, offering herself to him.
“Good girl. You understand how this works—that we’ve barely even started.”
Rachel could only nod, bracing herself as his thick, heavy length pushed relentlessly into her.
Until the day she could escape Silas—this ruthless, psychopathic serial killer—she had to do whatever it took to survive.