29. Reth
RETH
Idon't kiss her gently.
I fist her hair and drag her mouth to mine and kiss her the way the night has made me—rough, starving, tasting blood and paint and her underneath both of them, my hands gripping hard enough to leave marks because I’m not a gentle thing right now and she knows it and she wants this anyway.
All of me.
Not just the pretty pieces. But the broken darkness too.
She moans into my mouth, and my blood roars.
I pull back and look at her. Flushed. Eyes dark. Lips swollen from mine. Beautiful in a way that makes something feral rear up in my chest, something that has been running on violence all night and is now pointed entirely at her.
I drag the chair sideways. Hard. The legs screech against the floor. Give Valeria the angle I want her to have. Then I sit and pull Sophia down onto my lap.
She doesn't hesitate. Never hesitates. That's the thing about her—she has never once flinched from me, and she's not flinching now, not in this room, not covered in the evidence of what I've been doing, not with Valeria sitting so close, bleeding.
I grip her hips, and she reaches between us, unzipping my pants and pulling out my cock.
I’m already achingly hard for her. Some might say it’s the adrenaline, the bloodlust, the high of revenge.
Maybe it is. But mostly…it’s her. The woman I’ve loved for years.
The woman I never thought I’d have. The woman who taught me that monsters deserve love too.
With her fingers around my cock, she lines me up with her entrance. Slowly sinks down onto me, and she whimpers beautifully as I stretch her open. Inch by inch, her pussy sliding over my cock.
"That's it.” I drive up into her before she's fully seated, burying myself deep and watching her mouth fall open on a moan that fills the whole room. "Take it. Take all of it."
I drag her down onto my cock. The slow, sensual roll of my hips up into her in long, deep strokes, letting her ride me while my hands roam her body.
One slides up her back, fingers tracing her spine, the other cups her breast, thumb brushing her nipple through the dress until it’s tight and begging.
She moans into my mouth, soft and needy, grinding down on me in lazy circles that make my cock throb inside her. I swallow every sound like I can keep them forever.
"She thought she had me," I say, loud enough to carry, my mouth against Sophia's throat, teeth scraping skin. "She thought what she built belonged to her." I bite down hard enough that Sophia arches, crying out. "She never had this. Never even came close to this."
I grab her jaw and make her look at me.
"You feel that?" My hips slam up and she chokes on a moan, and Valeria curses in the background. "That's the difference. She had what she could take. You have what I give." Another brutal thrust. "Nobody has ever gotten this from me. Not one person. Just you. Only ever you."
“Stop!” Valeria screams. “You’re mine. You hear me? Fucking mine.”
I tuck a strand of blonde hair behind Sophia’s ear, eyes only on her. “I’m yours.”
Sophia trembles, hands fisting in my hair, the sounds she's making getting louder and wilder and more desperate with every stroke.
From the side, I catch Valeria's face. She's shaking in the restraints, the carved letters still seeping, paint streaked and ruined, and her eyes—God, her eyes are the real victory. Because she can endure pain. She's built her whole life on enduring things and spinning them into power.
But this?
This is destroying her. A man who belonged to her for years, free, choosing, savage with it, giving someone else something she never once actually had.
I look right at her over Sophia's shoulder.
"Watch," I say to Valeria. “Watch what true ownership looks like.”
I grip Sophia’s ass hard with both hands and start fucking her in earnest—filthy, relentless thrusts that make her tits bounce and her moans turn into broken, shameless cries. The wet slap of her soaked pussy taking my cock fills the room, obscene and loud.
I bury my face in her neck, sucking marks into her throat while I drive up into her again and again, forcing her to take every thick inch.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I rasp against her ear, voice wrecked with need. “So tight. So wet. The only pussy I’ve ever wanted. The only one I’ll ever need.”
Valeria’s face is a masterpiece of ruin. The word PRETTY carved into her forehead, paint and blood streaked down her cheeks like grotesque tears.
Her eyes are wide, burning with rage and jealousy and something broken. Her painted mouth is open, lips trembling as she watches me fuck the only woman I’ve ever wanted. Her tits are streaked red, her body shaking against the chains with every brutal thrust I give Sophia.
It undoes her.
And fuck, the satisfaction that rolls through me at the sight is dark and deep and viciously sweet. She’s forced to watch me give Sophia everything I never gave her. Real desire. Real surrender. Real love in the only way I know how to show it.
I grip Sophia’s hips harder and drive up into her, letting Valeria see every filthy detail—the way Sophia’s tits bounce with each thrust, the way her moans turn raw and shameless, the way her soaked pussy takes me so perfectly. I want her to feel every second of what she lost. What she never had.
I can see it happening in real time—the moment the last of her unravels.
Her jaw goes slack. Her chest caves. Something behind her eyes just stops, like a cord finally cut, and what’s left isn’t rage or hatred but something worse; the hollow, gutted look of a person watching proof that they were never, not once, what they believed themselves to be.
Sophia’s moans grow louder, wilder. Her pussy flutters and clenches around my cock as she rides me harder, chasing her pleasure, and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her down further on my cock.
“I’ll always be only yours,” I say. “My body is yours. My cock is yours. My fucking heart is yours.”
Sophia’s head falls back, blonde hair hanging down her spine, her lips forming the perfect O.
“I love you.” I watch her face, the euphoria. “I’ll always love you, Sophia Sinclair.”
Valeria starts screaming. Loud. Raw. A furious, jealous howl that tears out of her painted, bloody mouth. The sound is ugly and broken—pure rage and envy. It only makes my dick harder, makes me fuck Sophia deeper.
The darkness takes over then, the part of me that was forged in basements and blood and her voice telling me I belonged to her. It rises hot and hungry, feeding on every broken sound Valeria makes while I claim the only woman who has ever truly had me.
I grip Sophia’s hips harder, thrusting up into her with filthy, punishing strokes, letting the wet slap of her soaked cunt fill the room like a victory.
Every scream from Valeria is fuel.
Every moan from Sophia is salvation.
I am the monster she made, and right now I am exactly where I want to be—buried deep in the woman I love while the woman who tried to own me watches everything she lost bleed out in front of her.
Sophia’s moans grow louder, wilder. Her pussy grips my cock tight as she chases her pleasure.
“Nazareth,” she moans out of breath. “I’m going to—”
“Come for me, baby,” I growl, grinding against her clit with every stroke. “Come around my cock and scream my fucking name.”
“Nazareth,” she cries, her hips jerking, pussy pulsing as the orgasm hits her. Every muscle in her body pulls taut, her thighs trembling, eyes rolling closed. It’s the most beautiful fucking sight, something I’ll never get tired of seeing.
Sophia’s orgasm is still tearing through her, her whole body convulsing in my grip, when I reach down and close my hand around the karambit.
I don’t rush it.
I hold Valeria’s eyes, let her see exactly what I’m about to do, let her understand it fully, while Sophia shudders and cries and comes apart in my arms.
“Listen to her come,” I bite out. “It’s the last sound you get.”
I swipe the blade across Valeria’s throat. The cut is clean. Deep. Arterial. The blood comes fast—faster than you’d think, a hot pressurized rush that hits the air and keeps going.
Her eyes remain on mine, and for one suspended second there’s something almost like disbelief in them, the look of a person who genuinely never imagined this particular ending.
But I have.
Multiple times. And finally having it be real is a quiet, vicious kind of satisfaction that settles deep in my bones like the first real breath I’ve taken since I was a boy.
Her painted, ruined face twists one final time, and a wet, gurgling choke peels from her slit throat before the life drains from her completely. The sight of it—Valeria dying while Sophia is still pulsing and screaming around my cock—sends me over the edge.
The karambit drops from my hand, and I snake my arms around Sophia. Pleasure doesn’t just tear through me. It rips me open. A detonation of everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I’ve ever feared, all at once.
The force of it is brutal, like the night itself has been a fuse burning down to this single, white-hot second.
The violence and the blood and the rage and Sophia, always Sophia, the only clean thing I've ever had, clenching around me and taking me somewhere past the edge of everything I thought I could survive.
Pulse after pulse of thick heat floods her as I grind through every wave, forcing my cum as deep as it will go, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise because I need her to feel every second of this, need this to be real and present and entirely ours in a room that has been about ruin all night.
Valeria's blood continues to fall in heavy, slowing streams, the word carved into her forehead still seeping. The paint cracked and ruined. The composure that survived years of everything finally and completely gone.
I press my forehead to Sophia's, both of us breathing hard, sweat and paint and her on my skin, and the contrast of it is so complete it almost breaks something open in my chest. Life and death in the same room, pleasure and ruin happening simultaneously, the thing Valeria spent so long trying to own spilling deep inside the woman she tried to use as a weapon against me.
She failed.
She's been failing since the moment Sophia handed me a pink lollipop on a Halloween night.
I press one kiss to Sophia's temple. Brief. Fierce. And she wraps her arms around my neck, still breathing heavily while kissing along my scar.
The sound that comes out of me isn't pretty. It's ugly and animal and I don't try to stop it.
It's done, and I'm still standing and Sophia’s still here and I just—break. Right there. In her arms. Into pieces I'll let her hold.
“It’s over,” I whimper, tightening my hold on Sophia, pressing her against me. “It’s finally…fucking…over.”