Epilogue
Amber
I know it's a game.
But that doesn't stop my heart from slamming in my chest like it's trying to escape and make its own break for it.
It also doesn't stop the moisture from pooling between my thighs as I run, slightly disoriented by the strobing lights that cut through the fog. The music is so loud I can't think, which, I am sure, is precisely the point.
Cal is always working with me to turn my brain off, particularly during our more risky stunts. I'm grateful to have a husband who recognizes that some days my own worst enemy is my own brain.
Adrenaline pummels into me as I run, trying to put as much distance between us as I can before he comes for me.
But I don't run straight to the back of the warehouse. It's what he'll expect me to do.
No, I run through the second structure, find the point where it meets with the next, and run for it. I do that over and over again until I don't even know where I am or if I stand a chance at finding my way back.
Cal has assured me more than once that there's only one way out of this place, but my fear takes on an edge of panic as I start to consider that he won't be able to find me.
It's silly, of course. He'll always find me. Maybe not according to my timeline, but eventually, he comes for me.
"Little doll?" His voice fills the air as the music switches to something sultry that I don't immediately recognize.
I stifle my breaths as his voice grows nearer.
I'm pressed into the shadows, in a corner that the strobing light didn't quite reach.
When his feet come into view, I realize how close he is to me, but he doesn't make a move for me.
My hand is over my own mouth, trying to stop any noise from slipping out of me, my chest tight with the anxiety of being so close.
And yet, he doesn't make a move for me. In fact, when he begins to back away, I realize he doesn't see me.
I close my eyes in relief as he backs away, his eyes scanning everything he can see. But he doesn't reach into the shadows to try and snatch me. He just takes it for granted that I'm running instead of hiding.
When the strobing lights let me see him moving to the next room, I creep through the room and run back the other way, trying not to giggle as the madness of this game bursts through me.
I'm not entirely successful.
Something like a snort slips out of me, and Cal turns, sharp. I run faster, trying to put space between us again. But it's no use.
He's fast. Strong. Determined.
He catches my dress in his fist and yanks me back toward him with ease as I fight for my freedom, trying to twist out of his grip. It's useless, because his warm breath hits my neck and I melt against him, the need to run suppressed by my need to submit.
"There's my little doll." He growls, pressing a rough kiss against the side of my neck.
I fucking whimper, like a desperate little whore. I whimper, because the reminder that I'm his is what keeps me grounded and reminds me I'm safe. But that voice? Fuck. It's guttural, the kind that sends chills straight to your pussy.
He pushes me against the wall and spins me so that the tip of his blade rests between my breasts, his hand on my neck offering no real pressure yet.
"Let's see what's behind this pretty little facade." He taunts, notching the knife against the fabric of my dress, pulling it away from me so that there's no risk of injury. That doesn't stop my breath from coming in giant gasps, heaving as I try to contain my monumental desire.
"Mmm." He purrs as the fabric shreds, falling away so that my nipples harden in the chilly air. "No bra?" He continues to cut until my dress is in two pieces, held up only by my shoulders, for all the good it does. The only thing it covers is my ass.
"No panties?" He tssks his tongue. "I love that my wife is always ready for me. Is your pussy ready for me, too, little doll?"
Well, if it wasn't, it is now.
I'm choking on my need for him.
"Yes." I manage.
"Good." He flips the knife, smirking when my eyes widen in alarm at the half second before he caught the blade in his fist. He trails the handle between my breasts, down my navel, and over my pussy.
"Cal!" I gasp when I feel the wide edge of the handle coast against my clit and come to a rest at my entrance.
"Too much?" He croons, leaning forward to capture my bottom lip between his.
His kiss is slow and teasing as he pulls my lip between his own and sucks until I'm sure I'll be bruised tomorrow.
I didn't expect to like wearing his bruises, but fuck if I don't feel like a goddamn queen when I spot them the next day, decorating my body like merit badges.
The evidence of what we did always makes me smile as I recall how the bruises got there and how his teeth felt sinking into me just enough to make my blood rush harder through my veins.
When he pulls away, it's clear he's waiting for an answer, but I don't remember what answer he’s waiting for... until I feel the knife handle at my entrance and my eyes roll. I think my moan is answer enough, but Cal takes no chances. He always demands that I use my words.
"No. It's not enough."
That seems to snap some kind of restraint in him, because he groans into my mouth, and then I feel him pushing the knife inside me.
The handle is thick and long, and as he parts me with it, I moan. I'm not going to be able to hold off if he actually starts moving it.
It hits all the right spots, and as his fingers caress my throat, my eyes feel like they're going to roll back.
"Stay here." He tells me, a plea disguised as a command. "Watch me fuck you."
I gasp, opening my eyes to see him just before me, his eyes intense as he watches me, our lips inches away.
But he doesn't kiss me. Instead, he luxuriates in every sound he pulls out of me as he pulls the knife back and thrusts in again, his motions controlled.
I don't look down to see if he's taken care to wrap his hand or if the blade is biting into him.
"Oh, God." I moan, the absolute debauchery of what we're doing washing over me.
"God doesn't own you, little doll. Your soul doesn't belong to him. Your body..." He punctuates his words with a thrust that sends me to the edge. It doesn't push me over. His next words do that all on their own.
"When we turn to stardust, you will still be mine. There's no escape."
I sob when my attempt to hold back my release fails, frustration and pleasure bursting together in beautiful technicolor.
I hold tight to the orgasm as he fucks me with the knife, not letting me come down. He’s got me captive and powerless, and he takes full advantage, stoking the flames until I'm digging at his arms, as desperate for him to stop as I am for him to continue.
He can take a hint, easing the knife out from between us.
But he doesn't throw it away. He holds it between us, the strobing flashes of light illuminating the handle, slick and glistening with the proof of my orgasm.
It also reveals his hand, wrapped around the blade, trails of blood streaming out from around his fingers.
I'm about to snatch his wrist to check his wound when he presses me against the wall, tipping the blade between us and turning his fist so that the handle rests against my lips, blood running down to me.
"Taste us, little doll. Taste how fucking good we are together."
It's sick, but it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard of. This is one I don't think I can even begin to unpack with our therapist. But that doesn't stop me from opening my mouth, sticking my tongue out, and letting him slide the weapon over the flat of it.
He's fucking right. We do taste good together.
His tongue darts out to lick the other side of the handle, catching the blood and spit I don't.
He groans, and then the knife is gone, clattering to the floor as he grips the back of my neck, tugging my head back so that he can devour me.
And he does devour me. Consumes me. Brands his name on my soul, which tries to leave my body when he drops his pants and slides into me in one go. I'm soaked, making it easy for him to sink inside of me as I hang onto him for dear life.
He urges me onto my tiptoes, but it's not enough to give him the leverage he needs, so I jump. He catches me beneath the ass, keeping me connected to him as Cal spins me, pressing me against the wall again.
This angle traps me in place, keeping me from rocking onto my toes to try and escape the pressure he builds quickly inside of me.
"Cal!" I cry because it feels like he's filling me; the pressure is too much. "Fuck! I need you to move."
"I need you not to." He grunts, his lips ghosting against the back of my ear and making me clench. He groans, burying his face in my shoulder. "Let me fuck you."
"Please." I beg. He's not even edging me, but waiting for the friction is killing me. "Fuck me. Use me, Cal."
His fingers close on the sides of my neck, offering me just enough pressure to remind me that he's there, that he's in control.
And as long as he's in control, I don't have to be.
"Hurt me." I say, before I've even thought about it. "Take my pain and give me your pleasure."
Cal gasps as he slams into me, so deep that I can't breathe.
And my brain goes blank.
Nothing matters, suddenly, as the pleasure reaches a tipping point, pushing me to overload, and I come, shuddering, on his cock.
My breaths shudder, too. I don't catch myself, lost in the bliss of oblivion as he uses me like his toy, refusing to let me down.
He's relentless, pounding into me so brutally that I think he really will make me bleed just from how intense his thrusts are.
I don't know what I'm saying, or if I'm just screaming, moaning, crying out as he rocks into me over and over, deeper, driving me higher. He doesn't slow, just fucks me relentlessly, until his teeth sink into the fleshy part of my shoulder.
My shoulders arch, pressing my chest into the wall, bringing me down deeper on his cock.
And then he comes, following me into the burning chaos we've made.
It takes a minute for him to get his breathing under control and another minute before he withdraws from inside of me, his hands on my hips to guide him out.
Without him inside me, I damn near collapse, the sensory overload combined with the brutality of the orgasms too much.
It's glorious and raw and fucking sinful, but it's the most powerful moment of synergy I can imagine as he collapses over top of me, peppering kisses against the top of my spine that make me tighten, ready to take him all over again.
"Take my pain and give me your pleasure." Cal hums once he finally catches his breath. "That's poetry right there, baby. You should put that in your wedding vows."
I grin, unable to stop myself from giggling when his hand runs beneath my jaw, turning me to face him.
"I think I could do better." I tell him honestly.
I've already got my vows written. I composed them the same night he asked me to marry him again, properly this time. His father wants a spectacle, and while the both of us could do without that, we do owe him our compliance. He's the only thing keeping us out of jail.
Cal and I aren't just lovers.
We haven't killed since the last time we were here. But that doesn't change who we are.
We're murderers.
We're vengeance.
We're relentless.
And we will continue to be, until death do us part.
Next time, it will have to try harder.