Can she really be …?
I have to ask. There’s no other way to find out the truth.
“Liam!” Jasmine yells, again and again.
After a while, her calls grow softer. Weaker. Like a little dove losing its ability to fly. And it hurts like a fucking knife to the heart.
“Please …”
I groan out loud, rubbing my face while my dick is still hard as a fucking rock. And I fish my knife from my pocket and head toward the door.
When I slam it open, her eyes shoot up to mine, riddled with fear. She definitely noticed the knife in my hand as I march up to her.
“What are you going to do?” she squeaks as I hold up the knife. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
“Are you a fucking virgin?”
The question is simple, but her reaction is not, especially not the look on her face as she turns white as snow.
Her lips part but nothing comes out except a few stutters.
“Answer me,” I bark.
“No,” she quickly says.
“Lies.” I point the knife at her chest. “Tell me the fucking truth.”
She shudders in place, nipples hardening from the cold. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”
“Too late,” I say. “Now tell me, or I swear to God I will leave you hanging here until tomorrow morning.”
Her eyes widen. “No. You wouldn’t.”
My nostrils flare. “Try me.”
“No, no, please,” she says as I walk away.
I pause and backtrack. “Then tell me what I want to know.”
“Why does it matter?” she says, swallowing when I push the knife underneath her chin.
“There is nothing in this world that matters more to me.”
“Not even my sister?”
I hate her even mentioning her.
But there’s something I hate even more… her not realizing how important she is to me.
“I told you what I desired the most,” I say, lowering my eyes so I can look into hers. “You.”
Her lip tremors. “I …”
I lean in closer. Close enough to make her hold her breath. “I won’t ask again. Are you a virgin, Jasmine?”
Slowly but surely, she nods.
Once.