14. Jael
Nasty - Tinashe
“ S hit,” I mutter under my breath.
My stomach twists as I think on my feet and then snap into motion, zipping around the room to clean up anything potentially suspicious.
…like the chained up, hulking, six-foot-something stalker who’s wearing a minotaur mask?
I shake away my inner voice and focus on cleaning up what I can. The torn down newspapers, the empty mugs of coffee, the blood splatter that I cover with a rug. Turning to Bront?, I press my fingers to my lips signaling he stay quiet.
For once, his lack of interest in speaking works to my advantage.
I check my reflection in the glass lamp on an end table and then step to the door as more knocks echo from the other side. Smile on and tone pleasant, I draw the door open just enough to keep most of the room hidden, including Bront?.
“Good afternoon,” I greet. “Can I help you?”
“Ma’am.” He tips his hat, his large ears sticking out. He’s older, mid-fifties maybe, with a strong build that shows he keeps in shape for his age. “Sorry to bother you. I’m Sheriff’s Deputy Dudley. I live just down the road.”
When I don’t say anything, he clears his throat and presses on.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met before, and I figured I’d introduce myself. In uniform, I’m Deputy Dudley, but otherwise, you can call me Harrison. And you are?”
I hesitate half a second, though keeping my smile. “Jacqueline Hyde. I have no uniform, so it’s always just Jacqueline.”
He chuckles. “Well, Jacqueline, always nice to see a new face. I was on my way home from a nightshift and noticed the lights on in the Klum’s cabin. And the station wagon in the drive too, of course.”
I go stiff, my smile faltering.
“I thought it was odd,” he continues, “because the Klums left days ago from their annual trip up here. They went back to their main home in Easton.”
“I’m renting the cabin,” I lie. “Just for a few days while I’m in the area.”
The deputy raises a skeptical brow. “Is that so? They’ve never rented it out before.”
“There’s a first time for everything. I’m just here getting away from the city noise. A nature treat for myself.”
“And hunting?” He gestures to the hunting knife strapped to my hip. The same knife I’d used to cut up Bront?. The dried blood stains the tip of the blade in true incriminating fashion.
I give off an airy laugh, like he’s told a joke. “Yes, and hunting. It’s a hobby of mine.”
“You don’t seem like the hunting type.”
“Appearances can be deceiving. Anyway, Deputy—or is it Harrison?—I’ve got to get going. Skinning my game so I can prepare dinner.”
As his gaze shifts past me and it becomes clear he’s trying to peer inside the cabin, I step closer to the door, blocking more of his view.
“If there’s nothing else, then I guess I’ll see you later.”
The radio from inside his sheriff’s vehicle goes off. A garbled voice comes through, announcing a homicide at a gas station bathroom off the highway. The voice goes in and out, the static loud, but I catch the next words: “possible victim of the Cleaver.”
My grip on the doorknob tightens and I say, “Well, have a good day. Good luck catching him.”
Before he can respond, I slam the door in his face and twist the lock. I dart toward the front window and snatch the curtains the rest of the way closed, but not before noticing that the sheriff’s deputy hovers at my doorstep for an extra few seconds.
It’s Detective Laurent all over again.
Why can’t these people just leave me alone?
Why do they always have to show up and try to make trouble for me?
The paranoia I had hoped to leave behind starts its usual climb. It rises and rises inside me ’til I’m pacing around the main room and my nerves are fraying.
Bront? watches my every step as I search my brain for what to do next. He didn’t utter a peep while Dudley was here. He kept as stonily silent as ever when he could’ve easily disrupted the deputy’s visit.
But it’s only a matter of time before they close in. There’s no way they’re not going to eventually come for me like they always do. They’ll throw me back in the hospital and I’ll be stuck with Nurse Big Bird and the others all over again.
“That’s not going to happen,” I mutter to myself. “I just have to make sure they don’t keep finding me.”
And then I stop mid-step, my head turning in Bront?’s direction.
Paranoia breeds suspicion, making my eyes narrow. I start toward him.
“Did you lead him here?” I ask accusatorially. “Who did you tell you were coming into these woods? Someone had to have known!”
Bront? lets me stew in silence. He offers no excuses or defenses of his innocence. He lets me think what I want.
Which is probably the most frustrating thing for someone crippled by paranoia.
I shriek in frustration and stomp my foot. “ANSWER ME!”
I unsheathe the knife from my hip, gripping the handle tight, and then I realize it’s not enough.
He doesn’t care if I cut him up. He took every slash of my knife like it was nothing last night. I need to show him I really mean what I say. That this situation is life or death.
I run out of the room and into the next one over. A few seconds later I’m back, clutching one of Mr. Klum’s pistols.
“I guess kindness gets you nowhere,” I say. “I thought we were making headway. I gave you food. You gave me your name. I gave you your mask back. But apparently that good will means nothing to you. You’d rather learn the hard way. Let’s get one thing straight, Bront?—if I go down, you’re fucking coming with me. So you better start speaking up. Got it?”
I cock the hammer as I hold the pistol up and show off its sleek, silver design.
“Fits perfectly in my hands,” I tease darkly, the corner of my lip curling.
He remains still, though there’s something burning in his eyes. Something that says he’ll be defiant to the very end.
It looks like we’re in for another long interrogation session.
“If I find out you led him here, I’m blowing your fucking brains out, Bront?. Do you think I won’t? Try me.” I laugh at my own words, back to my usual pacing. I’m right in front of him, close enough that if I pointed the gun at him, I’d surely hit my mark.
I’ve never shot a gun before. I’m not going to pretend I’m some skilled marksman.
But I’ll figure it out real fast if I have to. If Bront? wants to take me there.
“Who have you been in contact with, Bront??” I ask. “The police? The hospital staff? You know, I’ve been thinking, and it’s funny how no one ever sees you but me. Almost like it’s intentional. Almost like you’re all in on it.”
Another laugh pours out of me as I glance sideways at him.
“Of course,” I whisper. “You were working with them the whole time. Tell me the truth and I might spare your life.”
He challenges me with the heat in his dark green gaze, and just when I think it’s the only reaction he’s going to give me, he speaks for the second time.
“You were where you belonged.”
His voice is raw, naturally throaty, like he’s used it so little his vocal cords can’t keep up.
I freeze in shock at his audacity, breaking into a laugh that he would dare mouth off.
“What did you just say to me?” I ask slowly.
I’m flushed, hot all over. The heat rises from the inside ’til it’s left me hot everywhere. It’s same precursor to the explosion I’d had yesterday. The mania is taking over, it’s driving me to the edge of sanity, like a fuse about to blow.
“What did you say to say to me, Bront?? You said I deserved it? I deserved to be there?”
I hop into his lap in a smooth motion, my thighs on the outside of his. The pistol suddenly feels so natural in my hands as I press it against his temple.
“Careful,” I croon. “Be very fucking careful with what you say next. Tell me, tell me I didn’t deserve it!”
Bront? lifts his chin defiantly, his jaw clenched as if made of steel.
He’s definitely challenging me. He’s daring me to fucking do it.
A beat of madness pounding deep inside, my adrenaline on high, I’m struck by the same realization I had last night. His defiance, his strength, his dominance even in the face of captivity, all of if does something to me.
It turns me on.
This massive monster who has been stalking me and made my life hell turns me on.
I’m jumping out of my skin to make him feel pain while down below, my pussy’s throbbing in want. In some sick and twisted way, these moments between us make me wet.
I’m not alone.
As I sit astride Bront?’s lap and we glare into each other’s face, I feel him. The bulge that hardens right under me, thick and engorged even through his pants.
I’m panting now as I glance down between us and my hips naturally undulate in his lap, grinding down against him.
“Look who’s hard,” I taunt. I lean forward and lick at the mouth of his mask, pistol still pressed against the side of his head. “Want a taste of pussy? I’ll tell you what, Bront?. I’ll take you to heaven before I blow your fucking brains out and send you to hell.”
His wide, cavernous chest heaves with the next ragged breath he takes. It sends a direct frisson of excitement jolting through me, like a transfer of energy. We haven’t even fucked yet and already I’m so damn in tune with him.
I can feel the most primitive side of him emerging. The more I grind my hips and let my pussy rub against his erection, the harder he breathes. It doesn’t matter that our clothes are in the way, serving as a barrier. The friction it creates is delicious and sinful, a real fucking tease for us both.
My panties cling to my labia, soaked through. The denim I’m wearing grazes the sensitive area and turns my breath shallow as I mash my pussy against his huge bulge.
It feels so good, I could probably come from just this. He could too.
He’s quickly losing it, his mask futile now. He can no longer act composed.
“You like that?” I pant, squeezing my thighs outside his. I rock harder and lean toward his ear. “Would you like to feel my pussy, Bront?? Do you want that big fucking dick of yours to be buried deep inside me?”
He tenses up, breaths coming even harder. Low and animal-like.
I take the primitive sounds as a yes .
It doesn’t really matter either way—I’m turned on and he’s here, ready to be used.
Some maneuvering later, I’ve tugged off my jeans and discarded my panties. Bront?, for being as defiant and unwavering as he has been, finally breaks eye contact. His gaze dips to my naked lower half as I mount him, and his thick jaw sets.
“See something you like?” I ask, shoving the pistol back against his temple. I flash him a mischievous smile, my other hand working on the button and zipper of his pants. “Enjoy every second of this. It’s your first and last time.”
Bront?’s dick juts out once set free. It’s engorged and fat, veins throbbing.
Every other part of him might be scarred and disfigured, but his dick is beautiful.
Immaculate.
I take him in my hand and lose my breath at how incredibly silky and hot he is. Positioning him at my entrance, I look him in the eye and sink down.
The nerve endings in my pussy fire off all at once. My walls grip at his girth, the fullness immediate. I can feel myself pulsating from within, the stretch so damn good that the rest of my body trembles uncontrollably.
I’m not alone.
Bront? can hardly silence himself. The grunt of pleasure that rumbles out of him sounds rough and barbaric. It doesn’t sound like a noise a man makes. Definitely not a civilized man. It’s the sound of a beast.
A monster.
And as I press the pistol into his head and peer into his minotaur mask for a face, I’m reminded that’s what he is.
He’s a brute, a stalker, a predator who has tormented me and haunted me. He’s made me like this and deserves everything I’m giving him.
I pant as I work my hips and ride him. The fresh scars marring his already scarred skin make my pussy tingle. The remnants of dried blood from last night. The chains clenched tight around his wrists and ankles. All of it drives this dark lust burning inside me.
His pain turns me on.
The sight of me rocking on his dick with a pistol pointed at his head. His intense gaze from behind the slits of his minotaur mask as he lets me use him and takes whatever I give.
My pussy clenches tight and my hips undulate faster. I gouge my nails across his already bleeding flesh and crash down harder on his dick, taking him deeper. As deep as I can go, spots dancing in front of my eyes as he reaches my cervix. Mouth dropping open from the blip of pain I’ve inflicted on myself, it doesn’t slow me down.
It’s a pain that begins to feel good, peppered in between thick waves of pleasure.
I bob up and down on his dick and slide my fingers in his hair. Our bodies slap together and we hold each other’s gaze like we’re in some sort of twisted, lust-driven trance.
He grunts as I bounce on him, his pants halfway down his muscled legs. The rest of him still bound, the chains clink as his muscles flex and bulge and put more strain on the metal binds than ever.
“Fuck… so good… so deep…” I moan when I’m so full of him, my mind goes blank. My pussy tingles, sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. I fist his hair and smash my mouth against his. The mask is between us, but it changes nothing. He can feel the urgency in my kiss, the hunger as my tongue swipes at the minotaur’s wide mouth.
My motions pick up speed, fucking myself on his fat, swollen dick. Sweat slicks my skin, beads clinging to my curves, coating me in a light dew.
I clench my fingers tighter in his hair as my orgasm arrives. It explodes, the pleasure so intense, it vibrates through me. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and cling to him like he is the only thing keeping me from drowning.
Fingers knotted in his hair, my thighs quaking on either side of him, I can’t even bring myself to move. I’ve got the pistol pressed against his temple, finger on the trigger, and my pussy wrapped around his dick. Wave after wave of pleasure hits me. Every time it feels like it’s over, another wave crashes down and tingles tremor through me.
But Bront? hasn’t come yet—something that becomes apparent as I’m collapsed against his chest and his dick twitches inside me. His hips begin to move, his muscled thighs spreading apart as he uses brute strength to thrust up into me.
I’m in shock as it happens. This hulking man, bound and chained, seizes control of the moment and drives his hips up with sheer force and power. His grunts thicken, his scarred body burning hot.
Suddenly I’m the thing being used. I’m being fucked into as his dick pushes deep and my tingling, swollen pussy takes it.
I start moving with him, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and matching his savage energy. He snaps up and I crash down, our rhythm chaotic and desperate. We rock together until he’s bucking into me, growling and grunting like he’s transformed into a real minotaur. He breaks apart in a few hard finishing pumps and then spills his release.
It spreads through me from the inside, warm and wet. Enough to push me over the edge, straight into a second orgasm.
Head tilting back, I close my eyes and surrender to the pleasure. The second orgasm’s just as powerful as the first, driven by the fucked up moment and the adrenaline in my veins. I’m out of breath coming to, realizing where I am and who’s inside me.
Remembering my promise.
Gazes locked, I make sure he understands what’s about to happen. I wrap my finger tighter around the trigger of the pistol and pull.
Click.
Bront?’s gone still, his eyes darkened, his jaw hard.
I sit back in his lap and release a bubbly laugh that sounds insane. “Kidding. The pistol wasn’t loaded. But next time… it will be.”
My legs wobble as I slide off him and rise to my feet. I turn away from him with the pistol at my side and disappear into the next room, more lost than ever.