Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CASPER
Moving how I did was about more than having the right kinda gear, wearing the right materials—fabrics that absorb sound instead of reflecting it.
It was about how you bent your knees, distributing your weight and not dragging your feet.
It was about breathing through your nose, focusing on everything around you while keeping your eyes on the target at the same time.
Taking in the sights, sounds, scents. Recognizing the different flashes of color and putting a label on them before most people even knew what was happening.
It was second nature for me. I’d always been a nosey motherfucker. My senses on constant overload. Paying attention to everyone and everything until one thing in particular caught my eye. This girl was that thing.
I was gonna kill her. Or she was gonna kill me. But not before we played the game a little longer.
I followed her all the way back to Sullivan’s, upstairs to my apartment, where she walked around and picked up the occasional bezdelushka from the shelves.
Snooping or waiting for me. Didn’t matter which.
I didn’t keep nothing important here. No photos.
No souvenirs. No insights into my psyche.
Just a handful of candy bars and shit I clipped off the idiots downstairs.
Cash, IDs, small weapons, and keychains.
She could steal ?em if she wanted. I’d just steal ?em back.
I watched her for a few more seconds, my breath fogging up the glass, before I finally decided to tap on the panel.
She gasped and jumped before she could keep herself from doing it.
Then she stomped forward, yanked the window open, and shoved at my chest. Sending me flying backwards off the fire escape.
I twisted midair, grabbed onto the ladder, and flipped myself back up again before pushing my way inside the room.
“Seven,” she grunted.
I quirked a questioning brow. “Seven?”
“That’s how many more times I have to kill you before you stay dead.”
I grinned and stepped forward. Baby girl stepped back but not until my toes were touching hers. Boot to sneaker. “And how many more times do I have to fuck you before you realize you prefer me alive?”
“Pretty sure I was the one doing the fucking.”
I brushed past her and flipped myself onto the bed, my hands tucked behind my neck and my legs spread wide.
“Either way, you don’t fuck someone you don’t enjoy fucking.
You like my dick, don’t ya, myshka?” I clenched my ass and bounced my hips against the mattress.
Thrusting into the air twice more before adding, “Ain’t that why you’re here.
The thrill got ya all spun up and now you need a way to burn off that extra energy. ”
“I’m here to kill you.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Already tried that. Think we should try something else now.”
She moved to step back from the bed, and I kicked out a leg, catching her behind the knee and sending her tumbling on top of me.
She immediately reached for the nightstand, grabbed the lamp, and cracked it over my head.
I felt the blood trickle down my cheek, but that was all I felt besides the throbbing in my dick as I wrapped my hand in her hair and yanked her face closer.
Her lips tasted like pennies. And whatever power bar she was chewing on the way over.
And salt from the sweat dripping down her forehead onto mine. And lust. And hatred. And more lust.
And I tasted like all those things now too.
That was the part I enjoyed most about fucking.
It was the closest you could get to killing someone without killing them.
Tasting them without consuming them. It was like destroying them over and over again.
A little piece at a time. Causing that same desperation and inevitability.
The same heart thrumming and blown pupils. The same nail digging and hair pulling.
It was the same objective of getting them before they got you.
And I got her. Naked beneath me. Our clothes tossed every which way in the struggle.
My shirt, her pants and underwear. Then my pants too.
Furniture knocked over and blood spelling out each step we took to get to this moment.
Like a morbid map. Here’s where I twisted her arm behind her back and forced her up against the wall.
And there’s where she elbowed me in the mouth.
And that’s where I laughed and spit out a chipped tooth before scooping her up and dropping her onto the bed again.
She grabbed something off another shelf and chucked it at my face.
I dodged it and gripped up her left thigh, pressing it down into the mattress with the weight of a knee.
One ankle tug later, I was watching how my cock parted her pussy lips like the Red Sea.
She arched her back and met me wave for wave.
All that fight finally fucked out of her or into her as she twisted the sheets between her knuckles and dropped another location pin.
Here’s where she creamed all over my cock.
I felt that gush of fluid and continued to fuck her through it.
Those tight pussy walls sucking me up and spitting me back out.
Rolling and vibrating. Bucking and flexing.
My new cock ring swimming around her bodily fluids and splattering them against her thighs each time it flicked against her lady lips.
I liked the look of it. The feel of pushing something inside someone, pulling it out, then pushing it in a little deeper the next time and twisting.
The resistance and the pressure. The sloshing sound and the groans.
I picked up my pace till the blood dripping off my chin mixed with the cum dripping down her thighs. Till the only difference between her and the guy she’d left to rot next to a pile of cockroaches was the option for a redo. After I closed my eyes for a little bit.