Chapter 9 Kip #2
A jolt of shock surged through me as I scanned the information, again and again.
Samantha! My pulse skipped a beat, echoing my disbelief.
How was she alive? What happened to her sister?
It was only three days after … after I …
I rubbed my jawline, desperately trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
The harder I tried to make sense of it all, the more tangled my thoughts became, leaving me with a barrage of unanswerable questions swirling in my mind like a storm.
Fury ignited like a wildfire in the pit of my stomach, burning with a relentless intensity. One way or the other, Holland would give me answers. If I was correct and she’d changed her name to Holland, that meant one thing.
This time I was more prepared than I had been the night I’d hidden in her damn closet.
I reached into my back pocket and retrieved the red devil mask I had designed by the same person who had custom-made Death’s masks, which meant it fit me like a second skin.
I slipped it on before I left the guest room and made my way back to Holland’s bedroom.
I clutched the envelope in my left hand and set it down on the chair next to her dresser.
Before I got answers, I wanted something else first—her.
My breath caught in my throat. Even when we’d first met, I thought she was pretty, but now … now she was exquisite. Mine. And once I claimed her, she would belong to me forever. There was no turning back.
A prescription bottle on her nightstand next to a pack of birth control pills caught my attention, and I quietly picked it up. Ambien. Had she taken one? My guess was yes since I hadn’t seen the bottle the other night when I’d been in her closet.
I set the pills down and waved my hand in front of her face.
The rise and fall of her chest told me she was sleeping deeply.
Perfect. This just made the evening more interesting.
I slowly peeled the sheet from her, staring down every inch of her.
Instead of her sexy little pajamas, she was naked—exposed, vulnerable.
Her pink nipples hardened with the air. I continued to untangle the sheet from her body and left it in a heap at the bottom of the bed. Holland didn’t even stir.
I traced a path between her breasts before I seized a nipple with a possessive grip.
My tongue flicked over my lip, anticipation electrifying the air as I settled beside her on the bed.
Leaning down, I captured her nipple between my teeth.
Her soft cry ignited my senses, and I bit the other, savoring the intoxicating mix of pleasure and desire.
“The things I’m going to do to you, Holland,” I whispered. My hand traveled with deliberate slowness down her flat stomach, a journey filled with anticipation, and slipped between her silky thighs. I spread them apart. My cock thickened as my gaze landed on her shaved pussy.
I leaned over and dragged my nose up her inner thigh, drawing in her maddening scent like a man possessed, as my cock throbbed, ready to fuck her.
A wicked grin crept across my mouth as I roughly spread her pussy lips, exposing her throbbing clit.
I plunged a finger into her dripping cunt, coating it in her juices before I sucked it clean, her taste driving me to the brink of insanity.
Fortunately, my mask molded to my skin, allowing for the eye and mouth holes to be accessible.
Her scent invaded my senses as I worshipped her pussy. She released another soft moan, but she never stirred.
My tongue circled her clit, slow at first, then with rhythmic flicks until her thighs squeezed around my head. I pushed her legs wider. I slid two fingers inside her, crooking to find that perfect spot. She began to tense, to tremble.
I buried my face in her, grabbing her hips to keep her from writhing away, letting my teeth graze the inside of her thigh as she shivered.
When I felt her tense, that quiver of orgasm approaching, I paused and looked up at her.
Her expression was peaceful, dreaming, mouth half open in a silent gasp. There was a purity to it, a surrender.
I removed the cross from my neck, nearly exploding with pent-up desire.
I dragged the cool metal up her inner thigh and then traced a line across her sternum, her chest heaving with the sensation.
Her body was present, but her mind was lost in a haze of need and anticipation—craving the mark I was about to leave.
I pressed the end of the cross against her clit, circling it roughly before plunging it into her entrance.
She gasped as I thrust it in deeper, the metal slick with her arousal.
I worked it in and out, slowly at first, then faster, harder; my breath came in ragged gasps as I watched the cross disappear into her slick cunt.
I was consumed, possessed, my entire being vibrating with the need to claim her, to leave her writhing and marked and mine.
She arched off the sheets, a leg thrown over my shoulder, her toes curling in the air. I let the chain fall, the cross dangling from my fist as I drove her further into the edge of her release.
Holland whimpered, a tremor passing through her as I fucked her with slow, deep strokes.
Her eyelids fluttered, the lines of sleep and waking blurring. She made a soft sound as I pressed the tip of my tongue to her clit again, flicking, then sucking, feeling her thighs clamp again around my head.
I sat up, cock aching, circled by the sweet scent of her.
I took a moment to admire my work—the way her back arched for me, the way she glowed, even as she slept.
While her pussy greedily took in the cross, I unbuttoned my jeans and freed my aching cock, stroking myself as the sight of her consumed me.
Shifting back, I stroked myself harder, squeezing the base. I wanted to bury myself inside her and fuck her awake, to fill her with my cum and make her beg.
But I was a patient man.
When Holland came, a soft, surprised cry escaped her lips.
Her body arched like a bow, and her fingernails grazed across my shoulders, leaving a stinging sensation in their wake.
I pulled the necklace free from her pussy—sliding it up her stomach, catching on the curve of one breast before laying it across her chest like a holy relic.
Holland sighed, content as her arms fell limp against the sheets.
I kissed her lips, tasting the sweetness of her sleep and the last echo of her moans.
With my hand tracing lazy circles over her hip, I watched the cross rise and fall on her breast as she drifted deeper into dreamless, satisfied sleep.
My cock throbbed, insistent, reminding me I wasn’t done. I knelt between her trembling legs, fixated on her wet and satisfied pussy. Every nerve inside me demanded I plunge into her, but not yet. Not until she was awake and could see the monster claiming her.
Gripping my cock, I stroked with fierce, urgent tugs.
Heat traveled down my spine, my balls drawing tight.
Breath sawed in and out of my lungs as I licked my lips, her taste still lingering.
With a guttural groan, I pressed the head of my cock to her slick entrance, her wet pussy begging to be fucked.
Teeth gritted, I tore myself away, fucking my fist instead, my focus locked onto her sprawled, vulnerable body.
My hips thrust as I imagined her greedy cunt clamped around my shaft.
Reaching into my jeans, I fumbled for a tissue, slapping it over my cock seconds before my orgasm exploded through me.
I paused and steadied myself before I cleaned up the mess I'd made in the tissue. Slowly, I stood and tucked myself back in my jeans and reminded myself of why I was there in the first place.
Looking around, I located a pen and a notepad on top of her dresser next to the envelope that held the death certificate. I quickly scribbled a message on the piece of paper, disguising my handwriting the best I could.
Once I was finished, I set the envelope on her bed.
She would wake up tomorrow, most likely, with a sore pussy and an Ambien hangover.
From what I had learned about the drug when it was prescribed for my mother, Holland wouldn’t remember a thing, but when she saw the note and envelope, she would panic, thinking Draco had been in her home.
It was only a matter of time before she called me for help, and I would be there for her.
Little did she know, Draco had nothing on me, and I was the real monster she needed to be afraid of.