8. Sagan
8
SAGAN
“ Y ou want me to get on this ?” my Little Viper asks. Her brows slowly pull together as she tilts her head to regard my motorcycle. “Is there room?”
Rather than respond, I hand her the helmet sitting on the seat. She takes it tentatively, holding it out in front of her as if it’s a bomb and not protective gear.
“Sagan, I don’t… This doesn’t seem safe.”
“Put it on, Little Viper.”
Her mouth presses together into a firm line as she glares at the helmet. I know she wants to direct the heated look at me. I’ve dragged her out of the conservatory this evening, where she was trying to hide from us after work. If she had been Knox or even Thatcher, I would’ve expected a stream of endless profanities and possibly a blade to the throat or my balls. But my Little Viper isn’t like those two. Confrontation isn’t her style.
Pursing her lips, she pulls the helmet on.
My gaze travels over her figure. With mini boots, jeans, the new riding jacket I’ve gifted her with, and now the helmet, I can’t help but enjoy the sight before me. My Little Viper looks so fucking good. My dick grows hard as I watch her fiddle with the straps. When she doesn’t manage to clasp them together after a moment of struggling, I stalk around my bike and reach up to help her. She slaps my hands away.
“I can do it,” she objects, her voice muffled by the visor.
Beatrix tries to slap me away again when I reach back up, but this time I catch her wrist with one hand before hooking my gloved fingers beneath her helmet to yank her forward. Her soft gasp is almost inaudible as I tilt her head up at me.
“Don’t ever stop me from touching you,” I warn softly. “You’re mine to pet, Little Viper.”
I can’t see her glare behind the tinted visor, but this time I can feel it. My chuckle is low as I let her go to attach the chin strap. When it’s set, I step back and climb onto my bike.
“Get on.” With that, I shove my own helmet over my own head and wait for her.
Beatrix shoves up her visor so I can see her face and the worry on it. “Do you know how many people I’ve pieced back together after they’ve fallen off one of these?”
When I don’t respond, Beatrix sighs and shoves her visor back down. As she steps closer to my bike, I glance up at the house. My gaze flickers to where I installed the exterior security cameras an hour ago. I can’t see them given that it’s dark, but I placed them in discreet areas so even during the day they won’t be too noticeable. Knox was already working on putting them on a private server when I dragged Beatrix out of the house.
One problem down. One more to go.
As Beatrix attempts to climb onto the bike, she struggles a little. The motorcycle is much too big for her, but as my backpack, she should be fine. Once on, her hands flounder, not quite sure where to rest them. She finally decides to grab two handfuls of the back of my jacket, clearly intending to keep from getting too close to me.
I snort. Rookie mistake.
The motorcycle roars to life and rumbles beneath us. I’m careful as I pull out of the parking space, but as I head for the road, I play with the throttle. We lurch forward, then I break, hard . I can hear Beatrix’s screech of terror through our helmets as she nearly falls off the back. Quickly, she adjusts her hold—instantly wrapping her arms around my waist with a death grip. I’m sure she can feel my body shake as I laugh before I peel out onto the dark road.
I’m not slow as we zoom through the night.
This isn’t a leisurely cruise. We have a destination to get to and I want her heart racing by the time we arrive. The road curves dramatically here and there as we put distance between us and Chasm. That town has nothing for either of us. But I know a place that does.
Trees thicken on either side of the two-lane road. Overhead, the clouds that have lingered for two days have grown thicker and more ominous. The only light comes from the front of my bike, leaving the rest of the world cast in the blackest of night. Beatrix’s arms tighten around me as the wind whips past us. Her body wrapped around me feels good; it feels right . This is how it should’ve been the moment I decided I wanted her.
Eventually the trees begin to thin.
To our right, a large brick building comes into view. Or what’s left of it. Most of it has crumbled in on itself, including the roof. The bricks that still stand are blackened with soot and burns. The tall barbed-wire fence is mangled, rusty, and no longer of any use. I can feel Beatrix’s helmet slide across my back as she turns to stare at it.
It’s out of sight within seconds as I continue onward.
A few minutes later, we enter a ghost town. I slow, but don’t stop as I weave through what must have been downtown. Most of the stores and buildings are just rubble. Some of them that still stand have been tagged or looted. Shop windows have been broken, doors hang off their hinges, and glass still lingers on the sidewalk. As we move past the town center into more residential areas, the houses are the same way. It’s clear whatever happened here had been devastating to the whole community.
I turn onto a street with a cul-de-sac and park my bike at the very end. When I cut off the engine, Beatrix immediately let’s go and climbs off. I shove my riding gloves into my pocket and pull out my special leather ones.
“What are we doing in Briar Glen?” she asks as we remove our helmets.
The fear in her voice catches my attention. I climb off my bike and turn to study Beatrix as she peers around with wide eyes full of alarm.
“I have a surprise for you.” I offer her my hand.
Immediately, she steps close and takes it. Her fear of this place outweighs her current anger with me. Interesting.
“ Here ?” she asks, her voice soft and straining.
I wrap my gloved fingers around hers and lead her toward the woods rather than back up the street. We’re eaten up by the shadows of the dead trees, becoming one with the night. Our pace is quick as I guide her toward the surprise up ahead.
“Why not here?” I ask, mildly curious. “What happened to this place?”
You can get to Chasm from four different directions. I know because I’ve come from every one of them. When I’d come through Briar Glen, its inauspicious feel was like a calling card to me. The emptiness of the place and the clear magnitude of destruction intrigued me.
“There was a cult here once, hidden in plain sight. Their, ah, practices all came to light about five years ago when someone decided enough was enough and put an end to them all. You could see the fire from Chasm. It burned for days before firefighters could get it under control. The whole town evacuated while the chaos was happening. The coroner from Chasm disappeared around the same time. No one knows how he’s connected, but rumor has it that he was. Jeff going MIA led to Bright Starr receiving an influx of bodies for a while.” Beatrix holds my hand tighter as light breaks through the darkness up ahead. “No one knows who started the fire, but rumor has it, it was a ghost looking for people to drag to hell.”
I chuckle at the stupidity. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”
“No, I don’t believe in ghosts. But still… not knowing who did it makes me nervous.”
One person turned this place into a ghost town? Fascinating. I wonder if they felt vindicated afterward.
“When I looked online, I couldn’t find any information on this place,” I tell her.
“No, you wouldn’t,” she says softly. “The governor wiped all the information about Briar Glen from the internet and you won’t find it on any updated maps.”
I suppose it wouldn’t look good for a politician if people learned a cult had operated on such a large scale and had gone unnoticed right under your nose. Rather than acknowledge the mistake, why not erase the plight from history?
I look over at Beatrix. Her breath turns to mist in front of her face as her shoulders come up to her ears. The riding jacket should be warm enough, but we won’t be outside too much longer.
“Do you suppose we’ll see a ghost tonight?” I ask.
“Stop it,” she hisses, but it’s followed by the softest of giggles. The sound is short-lived but the purity of it causes my chest to tighten and warm unexplainably.
Wanting to hear more of her mirth, I add, “I don’t think my knife would do much to stop it from taking us to hell, but I suppose I could take a stab at it.”
Beatrix laughs loudly. The sound bounces off the trees around us. I yank her into my chest and slap my hand over her mouth, hating that I have to cut such an amazing sound short. She peers up at me with amusement twinkling in her eyes. I don’t even realize I’m smiling until I open my mouth to speak.
“Stay quiet, Little Viper. There may not be ghosts haunting this town, but there are certainly a few living individuals who have remained and wouldn’t appreciate our snooping.”
This news sobers her up. Beatrix’s hand comes up so her fingers can wrap around my wrist. I allow her to move my hand away only so that I can wrap it around her neck.
“Why are we here, Sagan?” she asks me softly. The amusement in her eyes blinks out of existence as she studies my face. “Did you bring me here to kill me?”
Her question, spoken with solemnity and no fear, tells me just how far I’ve lost her trust. She expects her death by my hand. Has already accepted it. Fuck, it’s like a dagger in my chest. For a second, I can’t breathe. The thought of killing my pet is so repugnant that I’d rather gut myself before I snuffed out her life.
“Why would you think that?” I ask her, my voice strained.
Beatrix brows pinch together and pull upward. In her eyes sits devastation and heavy defeat. The steadfast adoration and undeserved trust that typically shine up at me are nowhere to be seen. A sharp pang strikes me straight in the chest. The pain of it is unexpected, and I choke down a grunt while my throat constricts. What is this feeling? It’s alien and uncomfortable. I don’t like it at all. Is it… guilt? Shame? Some combination of both? I’ve never let anyone who relied on me down before. Not until Beatrix. The foreign feeling in my chest grows.
Ah, I know what this is—it’s failure .
The realization comes on swiftly and it’s a bitter pill to swallow. I might not be my pet’s knight in shining armor, but I was sure I could be the devil whose very presence could keep any danger to her at bay. I never considered that the danger would come from my inner circle, as small as it is.
Beatrix studies me closely. There’s no fear in her eyes. In fact, there’s a small flicker of a challenge there, as if she’s considering striking first before I can snuff out her life. Oh fuck… it’s so hot to see death simmering in her pretty amber eyes. I know then that I will forever rue the day I failed this deceptively sweet viper.
“Because I said I won’t take the fall for Trevor.” Her voice is low but steady as she answers me.
Fucking Knox and his big mouth .
I shake my head and reply, “No one is taking the rap for that idiot. The cops will never know about our involvement, Little Viper, and whoever is fucking with us will get caught and be dealt with.”
I can see she doesn’t believe me. It's in the way her eyes slide away from my face and the stiff set of her shoulders. The pain in my chest intensifies tenfold. I pull Beatrix closer to my side. She looks back up at me, her eyes wide and wary.
“If we wanted you dead, you would be a rotting corpse by now, Little Viper. But you are one of us, and that means we look out for one another,” I tell her. “If something happens to one of us, it happens to all of us.”
Her lashes flutter as her expression closes off. The distrust we’ve sewn into my pet runs strong. It’s taken root and burrowed deep. Setting my shoulders, I consider the weeding I’ll have to do in order to remove it. There’s no way in hell that I’ll allow one mistake to fuck this up for all of us.
“Then why are we here?” she asks.
“To give you an opportunity to strike without regret.” Rather than answer the questions that begin to bubble up in her eyes, I cut her off. “You’ll see what I mean shortly, Little Viper.”
With that, I step away and continue onward. Beatrix sticks close but falls slightly behind. I don’t know if it’s from fear or trepidation. Neither one will do this evening. She’ll get what she needs off her chest and then can we move on from Knox’s blunder—both of them—and maybe help distract her from the pain of her friend’s cowardly confession. My pet has reached her limit. She will snap if I don’t help her now.
A few minutes pass before we get to the end of the woods. We stop just behind the last row of trees, lingering in the shadows. Across a poorly maintained front yard sits a small, uninteresting cookie-cutter suburban home. The lights in the back of the house are on, but the front is dark. There is only one car in the driveway tonight. The little pickup truck has seen better days.
“Wait here,” I warn Beatrix.
Without waiting for her to respond, I break through the trees, heading straight for the little truck. Pulling out my knife, I bend down and slash the first tire. I’m quick as I stab the others, making the truck useless. When I’m finished, I glance at the house. It’s still dark. I can’t detect any movement, but I don’t expect to see any. The two that live here are busy, as they always are every Thursday evening.
My head swings in the direction of the trees where Beatrix is lingering. Though where she stands casts her shadows, making her invisible, I can feel her gaze drilling into me. I nudge my head toward the house.
There’s a pause. I can almost imagine Beatrix standing there, wringing her hands together as she contemplates what she should do and what I want her to do. A moment later, she steps out of the darkest of shadows and hurries over to me. As she comes to my side, I place my hand along her lower back and guide her toward the front door. When we get there, I reach for the doorknob.
Beatrix’s hand shoots out and catches my wrist. She gives me an incredulous look as she tries to yank it back. I shake her off and open the door. The soft groan as it swings open causes my Little Viper to stiffen. Grabbing her wrist, I pull her into the house with me.
Inside stinks like mildew and food that’s been spoiled for months. I can feel Beatrix’s shiver of revulsion through the hand I hold as we slink through the living room and dining room where the stench grows more foul. The inside of the house is sparse, with little to no furniture in either room, no pictures on the walls or trinkets on end tables. The carpet is well worn but does a decent job of muffling our footsteps.
Just as I make it to the kitchen, I hear the sound of another approaching. I place the blade of my knife between my teeth as I let go of Beatrix’s hand and lengthen my stride to meet the person heading our way. One of the owners of the house comes in through the other entrance of the kitchen. The middle-aged man has enough time for his eyes to widen, his footsteps to falter, and his breath to catch before my hands take his skull and snap it to one side.
His body falls to the floor in a heap. Beatrix squeaks in surprise. I whip my head around to glare at her. She stands there gawking at the body on the ground. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes bulge. She notices my glare and quickly slaps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet.
“Arnie, make sure it’s sharp and clean! Last time it was neither, and I got a nasty infection!”
I pause, listening to see if the second individual is headed our way or intends to remain put. He chooses the latter. Reaching up, I grab the hilt of my knife and remove the blade from between my teeth. I wave Beatrix forward. With what looks to be a great deal of difficulty, she lifts one foot, then another. The movement finally becomes fluid by the time she reaches my side. Her eyes find my face, searching it for something, but then she looks straight ahead, her chin tilting upward with determination.
My smile comes and goes but is unseen by my pet. Her desire to see whatever I have in store, no matter what, is charming. Humbling even. She may be upset with us, but we haven’t lost all her trust just yet. I allow myself to reach up and stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. It’s an unexpected touch for both of us. Gentleness is not in my nature. I can’t even fake it—not like Thatcher. So, when Beatrix looks up at me, her brows puckering with confusion, I find I’m just as baffled by the gesture as she is.
Fuck, if I’m not careful, I might grow soft.
Without further delay, I lead us into the other room where Arnie’s friend is waiting. Naked except for the overstretched, permanently stained tighty-whities is a fat old man on his knees. With his head bowed and his body facing toward the mantel, we go unnoticed. A fire crackles in the fireplace, casting the room in a warm orange glow. The pleasant crackling and popping of wood is soothing—a wonderful background noise for what’s to come. On the wood mantel sits a variety of various-sized jars. Each one is filled with liquid, some murkier than others. But what’s inside each of them is clear enough.
Knox would be appalled at the poor conditions these organs are being kept in.
Beside the fireplace, dangling on a mannequin, is a red robe. It’s seen better days. There are old burn marks on the sleeves and there is caked-on blood around the hood. A bloody hole by the heart gives me a hint as to what happened to its previous owner.
Beatrix freezes just within the room, but I don’t stop. I come up behind the unsuspecting man and kick him in the ass. He cries out in surprise and pain as he’s thrown forward. His arms fly outward, but he doesn’t catch himself in time before his cheek hits the floor. I kick him again and his face slides across the carpet, gaining a few superficial burns.
“What in the hell—!” he sputters as he sits up.
My foot slams between his shoulder blades to knock him back down. I step forward and then down onto his back, applying all my weight.
“AH! What the hell is going on?! Arnie?” he cries out.
I twist around to look back at my pet, who watches on silently. Her jaw is clenched tight, and her arms are wrapped around her torso, but rather than scared, she appears apprehensive. Morbidly curious. Maybe a little excited.
“Come here, Little Viper.” I hold my hand out to her.
Her eyes dart to it, the knife in my other hand, then down to the man on the floor. Our victim squeals like a pig, shouting for help, but I block him out. His words are unimportant. His life even more so. We’ve come here for one thing, and he’s going to give it to us.
Beatrix moves toward me, having decided on feeding her curiosity over her cautiousness. Her hand lightly comes to rest in mine. This time when I smile, I make sure she sees it.
“It’s time to strike, Little Viper. Tonight, I will show you how.”
Understanding flickers to life in those beautiful, light brown eyes. Her jaw clenches tighter and her nostrils flare.
“Why him? Why now?”
“Because you’re coiled, ready to sink your fangs into flesh,” I explain. “If you do not control your impulses, they will consume you.”
She’s not easily fooled. Her pupils narrow. “You just don’t want me to lash out at Knox. He almost killed me, Sagan!”
At Knox’s name, my chest constricts. The thought of him harmed sets my teeth on edge. Tonight is for Beatrix as much as it is to protect him. Redirecting her energy elsewhere will hopefully buy Knox enough time to win her over again. I take a deep breath and let it go. With it, the tension follows.
“Yet here you are, alive and well,” I point out, my voice calm.
Her glare is dark and dangerous. A shiver of desire whips through me at the sight. Slowly, she lifts her bandaged hands.
“Your fingers will heal.” My mouth curves into a humorless smile. “But I should amend that by saying ‘well enough’.”
“You think because I’m well- ish that everything is ok?” Beatrix asks, her voice deepening with hostility. “I don’t know if it’s enough for me. What if I take what I learn here and use it elsewhere?”
Elsewhere as in Knox. Or Pastor Michaels. Or me and my brother.
“Get off me! Get out of my house, you crazy freaks!” the man beneath me wails. I lift my foot only to slam my booted heel into his spine. His cry reminds me of a squealing pig.
I look back at Beatrix who's holding herself rigid. The fury she’s been masking all day flickers to the surface. Her brows smash together and her jaw ticks. She’s practically vibrating with rage now. I can see it in her eyes, the desire to lash out, to show everyone around her that she’s not to be messed with.
“You would regret killing Knox,” I promise quietly.
“Why? Because then you’d come after me? Make me pay?” She throws her questions, laced with venom, at me in a challenge. As if she thinks it all comes down to one decision: her or Knox. But it’s not that simple and it wouldn’t be that cut and dry.
It won’t come to that, anyway.
“Because he likes you, and Knox doesn’t like anyone. Once he’s decided that you're what he wants, friend or otherwise—” I glance down at the man struggling under my foot, “—he won’t relent until he gets it. He’s going to work hard to get back into your good graces, Little Viper. And that’s the type of person you need around; someone willing to fight for you.”
Beatrix blinks rapidly in surprise while some of the tension in her jaw relaxes.
“I’m going to skewer you both the minute I get up!” the man under my foot snarls. “Arnie! Arnie, help me!”
I don’t take my eyes off Beatrix as I continue, “You have suffered at the hands of others your whole life, my pet. Knox’s mistake yesterday is just another incident in a long slew of injustices you’ve endured. Why not take all that pent-up anger you have at the world and do something with it? You deserve peace. Find it by driving a blade into this man’s flesh. I promise, you’ll feel much better afterward.”
Indecision wars on her face. Her eyes fall to the man beneath me as her shoulders stop moving. She’s holding her breath—considering the situation. Her potential victim fights me harder, screaming empty threats at us. He’s ignored.
Her throat constricts visibly as she swallows. “I don’t know about this…”
“You don’t have to know, that’s why I’m here. Let me help you shed that dead skin so your scales can shine, Little Viper.”
The hint of eagerness that lights the back of her eyes up is beautiful. I can’t help myself. Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead lightly. When I pull away, the light in her eyes is brighter.
“No, no, no!” the man beneath me screams, still thrashing. Too bad being overweight and old doesn’t bode well for someone in a position like this. He has no chance of escaping us.
I hand my knife blade down to Beatrix. She doesn’t know it, but I might as well have handed her my heart. Her gaze drops to it. Beatrix’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say no. She doesn’t object. She’s just… not sure. That’s alright, I have all the patience in the world to walk her through this.
“It’s ok,” I assure her. Resituating my blade in my hand, I lower myself to kneel on top of the fat bastard and use the hand I’m holding onto my pet to guide Beatrix down with me. She crouches next to the flailing man.
“Hold on to my wrist,” I order.
Beatrix’s hand slides out of mine so that she can wrap her dainty, small fingers around me. Her grip is firm, but I can feel the slight tremor racing through her.
“Good girl,” I mutter. It doesn’t go unnoticed that color gathers under her cheeks nor do I miss her near inaudible gasp. My lips curve again at her reaction to praise. She’s such an obedient pet. The best pet.
Transferring the knife to my other hand, I flex my wrist so Beatrix can feel the muscles in my arm bunch.
“P-Please don’t do this!” the man blubbers loudly.
“Make sure, once you’ve committed, to see it through,” I tell her. “If you don’t want to go to jail, you need to make sure your victim never escapes.”
The man beneath me screams in terror. Beatrix doesn’t nod, but her eyelashes flutter and her breathing quickens.
I lift the knife up slowly. Beatrix‘s arm mimics the motion as she keeps hold of my wrist.
“Get off me, you freaks!” the man beneath me screeches. I lean my knee harder into him and he screams. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t kill me. Take whatever you want, but please, don’t take my life.”
My pet doesn’t seem any more swayed by the man’s pleas than I am. Good. Her first kill might not be the easiest, but I know she needs this. I don’t want emotions to muddle this for us. Beatrix looks over at me.
“Together?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze, willing her to understand that everything we do, whether it’s killing a man or running a business, or simply living to a ripe old age—I will be with her until the end. She’s stuck with us. With me .
“Together, Little Viper.”
With that, I bring the knife down. Beatrix’s grip tightens around my wrist. Not to stop me but to help me. The man beneath us screams in agony as half the blade disappears into his back. Beatrix gasps. Her grip grows tighter as I pull the blade back out and up. This time she’s the one who urges me on. When the blade strikes again, there’s a soft giggle. I look over at Beatrix. Her eyes are trained on the hilt of the blade, and a wide smile pins the corners of her mouth upward.
“Again,” she whispers with a childish glee.
How could I deny her anything? Together, we stab the man again. This time the blade goes deep. Our victim gasps and flinches, but he continues to fight us. His thrashing becomes more pronounced and desperate. He bucks, kicks, and flails, but none of that seems to bother Beatrix. Her giggles turn to laughter, loud and joyous. She’s oblivious as I transfer the knife fully into her hand and when I let my foot up and kneel beside rather than on our victim. The blade continues to rise and fall without my help.
I watch as blood splatters her face and how her tongue unconsciously flickers out to lick the drop that landed on her bottom lip. Her eyes practically glow in the firelight. The stabbing becomes more desperate and wilder rather than the rhythmic up and down we had started. Her laughter lasts longer than her victim, but soon even that dies off.
Yet her exuberance doesn’t dim.
Beatrix’s expression shifts as she plunges the knife in for the last time. She leaves it there to protrude from the man’s shoulder blades as her dark brows slide together, then upward. Her eyes flutter closed, and then, while her lips spread into a smile that one could consider peaceful, Beatrix drapes her body over the corpse and presses her cheek onto its sweaty, bloody back. A groan slips past her lips. I watch as her hands caress the mutilated skin in almost gentle, comforting circles. Blood smears around and the butchered flesh makes the motion less smooth.
“I’ll make you pretty again,” she whispers to the corpse. “But what a beautiful mess you are now.”
I shiver at the husk in her voice. My cock is so hard I’m pretty sure if I got to my feet right now, I’d be too lightheaded to stand for long. Reaching out, I stroke her face with the back of my hand. This time, it feels more natural. Her smile grows. Slowly, Beatrix opens her eyes, and I’m struck by how blood drunk she is. God, she’s beyond stunning like this.
“Sagan,” she breathes.
My name on her lips pushes aside all caution and I can’t stop myself from leaning down and claiming them. I can taste the copper of our victim’s blood on her lips. Another shiver rushes through me. How did I go from the rare kiss on Knox’s lips to feeling addicted to Beatrix’s? Beatrix has that effect on me, I suppose.
I don’t hate it.
My pet’s sweet moan urges me on.
With her mouth open, I take advantage and deepen my kiss. Our tongues clash, collide, and dance. I lose all sense of time as our hands travel over one another. As I come up for air, I find our clothes scattered over the room. Beatrix’s naked body is glistening with blood that doesn’t belong to her.
I groan at the beautiful sight before me.
In the back of my mind, I’m aware that we’re both drunk off this kill. Part of me tries to fight it. This is Beatrix’s moment. I should be more aware of our surroundings in case we need to move quickly. But that thought sinks and disappears under the cloud of lust and excitement that crashes over me.
My hand fists one of her braids that has fallen over her bare shoulder, and I pull away to yank her head to one side. I can’t stop myself from leaning forward and licking the blood splatter off her neck. My pet arches into me. I move to accept her offering of those big tits. I’m briefly aware that at some point we’ve shifted our positions. Now my Little Viper lies on top of her kill, her back to his, writhing beneath me. I straddle her, and her victim, and lean down to nip at her breasts, neck, and soft stomach.
We make a glorious sight. Too bad I can’t risk pulling out my phone to take a picture.
With a heavy groan, I take as much of her right tit into my mouth as I can. As I suck, I use my knee between her legs to apply pressure to her clit.
“Sagan,” she whimpers, immediately grinding against me.
I tease her nipple with my tongue until it hardens, then I suck it long and hard. My hand drops away from her braid so I can brace it on the ground, while my other comes up and squeezes her other breast.
“Sagan, sir , please… I need you,” she cries out. “Please, cum inside me.”
Fuck, I almost come undone at just her words alone. I’m so fucking hungry for my pet. Shifting, I replace my knee with my stiff dick. I bite down hard on her breast as I surge into her body. I’m not gentle with her but she can handle me. I know it.
My Little Viper’s scream is loud, but the sound shifts into a hearty groan. Her pussy, so fucking wet it feels like I’m diving into a warm river, sucks me in. It’s so hot and deliciously tight inside her. But what has me bucking like a wild bull is the sight of her writhing beneath me, desperate for release and covered in blood. I’m so proud of her tonight. She did it. My Little Viper has struck out and sunk her fangs into flesh. I knew she could do it. I just didn’t know how much she would enjoy it.
Or how much I would enjoy seeing her bask in her victory.
I let go of her breast to lift my head and roar her victory. My hips snap into her. I fight against the suction of her body as I pull my dick back and revel in the way she pulls me back in. Our hips snap together hard. Her hands claw at me, bandage fingers dragging down my biceps and chest. Her lips skim across my jaw before she plants them against my own. I take over the kiss, but it’s more like a flurry of them as I bury myself deep inside her.
Her joy radiates from every pore of her body.
It's in the light that’s pouring out of her eyes, it’s the warmth that wraps around my cock. It stems from her heart and it shines through her smile. Most people don’t have it in them to kill intentionally. Some do it by accident, then carry the guilt with them for the rest of their lives. But there are a few, scarce and rare, that are born to be killers. My pet was one of them. She was made for this.
“You’re such a good Little Viper,” I growl.
Beatrix’s breath hitches and her body bears down on me. As she throws her head back and screams her release, I let out a strangled cry of my own as she forces me to cum along with her with an intensity I’ve never felt before.
There’s a beautiful, scalding heat burning my insides as we come undone. My hips don’t stop moving and her body continues to milk me. Hard tremors rush up and down my spine. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can do is feel myself melt from the inside out. I bury my face into the crook of her neck as we both ride this mind melting wave of pleasure.
As our orgasms subside, I collapse on top of her, not caring that my weight might be too much. Her hand comes to rest on my back—the heat of it welcoming.
“Thank you, Sagan,” she mutters.
I smile against her skin.
“You never have to thank me, Little Viper. I’ll always take care of you.”