Lethal Lover

14. Elena

As promised, as soon as I’m finished with my evening, Liam is here, standing at my dressing room door waiting to escort me in. I keep it locked all the time now, even between sets. I feel too afraid to leave it unlocked even for a second. I keep feeling like whoever is sending me these threatening letters knows me personally. One of them called me Lanie, which is something only my mother calls me, and only when I tell her I’m scared or upset.

“Hey,” I mewl, kissing his cheek as I unlock the door and let us in. “You’re back here fast tonight.”

“I can’t wait to see my girl. Sue me.” He follows me, getting grabby before we even have the door shut. His hands paw at me, working zippers and buttons on my costume, and I lock the door behind us. I refuse to have sex in this room, but we’ve gotten pretty hot and heavy a few times.

It’s just too much of a public place for me to feel comfortable doing that. I think he’s crazy and wild, and I’d take a few risks, but I don’t want to be right in the middle of things if the director—or God forbid, Warren—knocks on the door. Still, I indulge him a little, letting him peel my clothing off and kiss me until my lips are raw and my tits ache from being kneaded by his strong hands.

“What about dinner? You’re going to wear yourself out and not even be hungry.” I chide him and peck him on the lips before I turn to grab my T-shirt and jeans to dress. He lets me walk away, but his eyes follow me as he leans on the vanity and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s gotten into you, anyway?” We hold each other’s gaze while I pull my shirt on then step into my jeans. At his behest, I no longer wear a bra when he picks me up. He likes it. I feel slightly off about it, but it’s not worth arguing about. We never go in public, anyway. I’m usually escorted straight home or to his house, where we have sex, and it makes undressing a bit easier.

“I told you… can’t a guy be obsessed with his girlfriend’s body without being questioned?” He’s playful tonight. I like that. There are times when he’s in a foul mood and I struggle to cheer him up despite my always cheerful personality. Lately, though, it’s been him carrying me. Nina’s death took a major toll on the entire group, and even Trixie isn’t herself. She seems to hate me more, which can only mean she’s jealous that I’m being given these roles, but she also seems to be upset about something else. I swear I saw her covering a bruise on her arm with makeup too.

“Well, I like it.” Zipping up my jeans, I reach for my sneakers and jam my feet into them, and Liam has my bag hung from his shoulder before I can protest.

I glance at the stack of mail on the corner of my vanity and wonder if I should read any of it. There’s another pink envelope similar to the last two that were frightening to me. If Liam reads one of those, he’ll go off tap. I’ve seen him get upset, and he has a nasty temper. Thankfully, it’s only been directed at me once, and I rectified that with a sincere apology. I didn’t mean to be snooping. I thought it was just a watch.

“Well, I like you. Now let’s go home where I can love you… a lot.” He winks at me and leads me out of my dressing room, and I have one last look at the stack of mail. Maybe I should tell him tonight that I’ve been getting scary shit. I hesitated, not telling him about the previous letter because he seemed very upset that evening about something. He told me it was his father’s endless lectures, which I tend to believe, but I knew my news would only sour his mood further.

I clutch his bicep and lock up behind us and then walk with him out the back to the waiting car. If I tell him when he’s in a good mood, it could go one of two ways. His good mood could cushion the blow and detract from some of the negativity that could happen if he gets super upset with the writer of said letters. Or he could lose his good mood entirely and it could ruin our night. Maybe I can wait until after the evening is mostly over. Then we can discuss it, and I can sleep if it upsets him too badly.

For now, I ride to his house in silence as he takes a few business calls and I think about Mr. Flemming’s response to my stalker issue. He told me it’s just show business and that everyone gets mail like that, but when he walked away—home early for the night—Mr. Monroe told me they tell everyone that. He told me to report it to the police because if I’m right and the person who is stalking me is behind the strange acts, he wants real justice. I don’t blame him. I’d want to know who ordered that man to mug me too.

At Liam’s house, I’m barely in the door ten seconds before my clothes are on the ground. I am so hungry, but I don’t mind working up a stronger appetite first. And he’s so good at making me feel good, so I can’t complain.

“God, I crave you like a line of coke.” His whiskers scrape my tender skin, already partially raw from making out in my dressing room moments ago.

“Yeah? You’re an addict?” I ask as he undoes his belt buckle and sheds his slacks. I work the buttons of his shirt with hasty fingers, struggling to get them loose, so he tears the shirt open and tosses it away.

His body is chiseled and bronzed, and it makes me wonder what he even sees in my pasty white virgin skin, never kissed by the sun. But he doesn’t seem to mind. His lips and hands search every inch of me, pausing at sensual locations to explore me more deeply. He slides his hands around my hips and thighs then hoists me upward. I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the bedroom. “Yeah, baby. I”m addicted to you.” He growls, throwing me onto the bed and taking a moment to admire my naked body in the dim moonlight.

He crawls on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand while his other roams down my abdomen, tracing patterns with his fingernails. Goosebumps prickle across my skin as he teases me with his touch. His fingers find their way lower, between my legs where the silk of my moist heat radiates from within. I moan as he touches me, lightly at first, then vigorously. ”You”re so wet for me already? My, my... what a dirty girl.” He grins wickedly before diving down to taste me, and I arch my back, moaning loudly, and my hands reach for his hair.

”B–Bastard!” I pant, both loving and hating every second of the torture. His tongue and fingers work me into a frenzy, and he only stops when I”m on the brink of orgasm. ”Fuck, enough teasing! I need you now!”

He grins wickedly again as he rises to his knees and grabs some cuffs from the headboard. ”God, I love it when you beg,” he growls in my ear, his voice a deep rumble that warms the pool between my thighs. He secures my wrists above my head, then nestles between my legs, leaving me spread-eagle and helpless for him to feast upon. ”But first...” he whispers in a low, sultry voice.

Without warning, he spanks the side of my ass cheek firmly with his open hand. I squeal in shock as arousal zings through my veins. The stinging echoes between us, and I whimper, wetter than before. ”Say, ”Daddy”s going to spank his naughty girl,”” he growls between moist bites along my inner thigh.

”Daddy”s... Daddy”s going to spank his naughty girl,” I say breathlessly as another hard smack connects to my skin. I pull at the restraints but only manage to make my wrists hurt. I want to touch him, to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull his face deeper into my pussy, but the damn cuffs are too tight. He chuckles evilly and smacks me again, this time on my other cheek. ”Louder now,” he purrs as his tongue lazily circles my clit, driving me insane with need.

”D–Daddy”s gonna spank his n–naughty girl,” I moan. My body is engulfed in flames, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure. My nervous system seems to be short-circuiting, causing me to twitch and jolt uncontrollably. I cling to him, squeezing his head between my thighs desperately, my hips moving in a rhythmic dance as we become one. The electric current running through my muscles is both intense and euphoric, making me lose control and revel in the moment.

”That”s my good girl.” His praise comes in the form of a gentle yet powerful touch, his fingers sliding inside me with measured precision. I feel myself being stretched and filled as he continues to tease and taste me, sending shivers of pleasure through every inch of my body. A cry escapes my lips as my back arches off the bed, surrendering to the intense sensations pulsing through me.

”God, oh, fuck! More!” I pant, gasping for air. I can feel my climax building with every slow, deliberate thrust of his fingers. The burn between my legs intensifies, craving more of his touch, needing everything and nothing all at once. When he finally slides his fingers all the way in, I’m a whimpering mess.

”You taste so fucking good,” he groans against my pussy before biting down on my clit, sending goosebumps dancing down my spine. His tongue rolls and grinds against my lips, faster now, harder, deeper with each thrust. I can’t get enough. I’m begging, screaming for him to push me to the edge.

”Liam!” I scream as my orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave. My entire body tenses up and then releases under him as the most intense pleasure I”ve ever experienced shoots through me. I roil and buck, making it challenging for his lips to stay connected to my clit as his hand rains stinging pain on my ass again. “Shit, oh, shit.”

As my orgasmic haze begins to dissipate, he rises up on his knees and slides his hard length between my quivering folds. I arch upward, silently begging him to take me. ”Say it. Tell me what you want,” he commands.

He angles his cock and pushes himself just inside me before pulling back out again, teasing me mercilessly. ”Please,” I mutter. He chuckles darkly before surging all the way in, filling every inch of me with one hard thrust. His name escapes my lips in a strangled cry of unadulterated pleasure as our bodies collide forcefully, over and over again.

“Tell me again,” he growls, smacking my ass once more before plunging his cock even deeper inside me. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love it,” I moan. “I love it!” I do love it, every fucking inch of it. The way he pounds me, the way my body shakes, the way my tits bounce. I want more.

“You love what, baby?” he asks, and I can hear the smirk in his voice as he pumps into me relentlessly, claiming me as his own.

“I love... your cock,” I moan just before I lose myself to another orgasm. It’s incredible, the sensations of pain and pleasure mixing together in a symphony of grunts and screams. My body trembles and quakes. My nails itch to claw his skin. My tits bounce as he fucks me, and I’m lost in it all.

Liam doesn’t stop there, though. He continues to pound into me, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. But I don’t care in this moment. The only thing that matters is the friction between us and the cock buried deep inside me, making me feel things I never thought possible. A series of powerful thrusts later, he groans out my name before collapsing on top of me, spent. Sweat and semen mingle between our joined bodies, panting in unison as we come down from our highs.

No condom… that’s all I can think. He didn’t use a condom, and I don’t know how to react. I’m tethered to his bed by these fucking handcuffs, and he’s on top of me, biting my neck, letting his cum drain from me onto the mattress and make a mess. I’m not on the pill, and I don”t know if he has something. I don’t think it even occurs to him that I may be feeling uncomfortable, he’s so into this.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls as his teeth continue to rake across my neck and collar bone. He squeezes one tit at a time then rolls off me, leaving me dangling there by the handcuffs. My wrists burn and ache, and my shoulders feel stretched out, but the rest of my body feels like gelatin, jiggly and loose.

“Liam… you didn’t use protection.” By now, I’d have thought he’d have figured that out, but we were both pretty into the moment. Meanwhile, his sex is soaking the sheets and puddling under me.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, sitting up on the edge of the bed. I look up at where my wrists are trapped and sigh hard. “We can handle anything, alright?” He’s being a little callous. I should be scrubbing myself right now, washing away his semen, but I know better than to anger him. I’d just like him to let me go.

“Can you let me go? My arms will bruise. The director will?—”

“That fuck stick will say nothing. You can wear gloves or makeup. Your skin is perfect to me.” Liam turns and leans over me, kissing me once before crawling across me on the bed to reach for the key on the opposite nightstand. His dick presses against my cheek, and I snicker as our moisture makes my hair cling to him, reminding me of the first time he fucked me and made me suck him off.

He unlocks the cuffs and kisses the tender skin on my wrists where they were rubbed a little raw. Then he hovers over me and acts a bit possessive, pinning me down again. I’m a bit uncomfortable with how he’s physical sometimes, but I know he means well. I push back, and he only grinds his hips into my thigh. He’s still semi-hard. How the fuck can he still be hard after that?

“Why did you call him that?”

“Who what?” he asks, playing dumb.

“The director. You called him a fuck stick. Why?” Mr. Monroe has done nothing to upset Liam. I’m not sure why he has a problem with him.

“Because he is. He has no clue what he is doing. Someone ought to replace him and the theater head. They need to get their eyes and ears checked.” Liam scowls and pulls away from me, and I get the feeling he’s irritated. Which isn’t a good thing. I can’t tell him about the mail if he’s already in a foul mood.

“What do you mean… replace him? Why would he need to be replaced? He does a good job.” I sit up, wondering why Liam is all of a sudden talking negatively about them, as if he’s threatening them.

“I just think they need a better leader at that theater. He’ll leave someday, though. Then you will get a better director.”

In order to hide my nervous expression, I slide off the bed. “I’m gonna wash up. I’ll be back.” I slip out of the bedroom into the bathroom and hide there while I try to understand the weird shift in Liam’s behavior. Why would he threaten Mr. Monroe? Was he threatening him? I don’t understand.

I take a few minutes to collect my thoughts and tidy myself up before returning to the bedroom. Liam is now clad in nothing but his boxers, his lean frame propped against the headboard. The flickering light of the TV casts a warm glow over his features as he turns up the volume with the remote.

“Would you look at this shit? You can’t make this up…” The expression on his face is shocked and almost amused. I have to tear my eyes away when I hear what the newscaster is saying.

A chill runs down my spine. “Authorities say Mr. Nicholas Flemming was intoxicated when the house caught fire and probably died due to smoke inhalation before the fire even got to his bedroom. There will be a full toxicology report to determine the exact cause of death, but authorities are not ruling out foul play.”

“Oh, God…” I murmur. The last person I told about the stalker is dead now. I can’t tell Liam. What if the stalker targets him next? How do I even tell the police now? What if he targets me?

“You okay?” Liam asks when he sees me shivering, and I crawl into bed and curl around him as I shake. I’m chilly, but that’s not why I’m trembling.

“Just cold. Fuck, that’s scary…” It’s all I can manage because if I give him any clue that I might have a lead on who did this, he could be next. Why would someone come after Mr. Fleming? And if they’re brazen enough to burn his whole house down, what will they do to me if they actually want to target me?

Holy shit, what do I do now?