6. Nyx
Chapter 6
Nyx
With Savage’s rigid body pressed against mine, every ridge and muscle molding against my back, my ass, my thighs, I’m flooded with confused signals. Panic, lust, even a little bit of fear.
“That another gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
“Jesus, Nyx, what the fuck were you thinking?” Savage rips the suppressor out of my mouth, clipping my teeth so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if he chips one of them. He grinds the barrel into the soft skin under my jaw, forcing my head up so I’ll scowl up at him as he glares down at me.
Oh, he’s angry? How dare he fucking intercept me like this? And how dare he look so rakishly handsome while doing it? God, I want to run my teeth down his throat, over that mess of ink on his skin. Maybe even draw some blood.
His eyes darken to black pits as he curls his finger around the trigger. My heart lurches, but it’s impossible to know whether in love or terror.
“You do realize at this angle, you pull the trigger and both our brains will be painting the wall?” I say. But carefully, because I feel the muzzle move with every word.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then to where his gun is trying to burrow itself inside my skull. He slowly leans his head back. “Better, Angel?”
Fuck. None of my usual antics are working. He must be furious at me. I flutter my eyelashes, lick my lips. He glances at my mouth again, and then gives me the kind of smile that makes my insides clench up.
Still not sure if it’s foreplay or a death threat. Feels a little like both. Either way, my underwear is getting damp. Savage has always had that effect on me.
“Promise me one thing before you kill me, okay?” The words practically fall out of my mouth, quick and desperate.
His eyes narrow. Which just makes him hotter. God, what the hell’s wrong with me? If he ends me here, now, my sisters will never be found. Yet here I am, fawning over him.
“Anything, Angel.”
“You’ll keep looking for them when I’m gone.”
I don’t know what he was expecting me to ask, but he frowns like I just told him I want a Viking funeral at Loch Ness.
“Your sisters?”
“Yes, my fucking sisters.” I calm myself, give him a tremulous smile. “Dear.”
He rips the gun away, steps back, and runs both hands through his hair in a quick, frustrated swipe.
“Jesus, Nyx. This? Again?”
“Yeah, this. Kinda always.”
“That’s why you ran?”
He glares at me as I slowly turn around, keeping my hands flat against the wall, primed to push away and bolt if he turns psycho again.
“I had a good reason. You got a message.”
He drops his hands, stares at me. “What?”
I hold up my hands, slowly easing down so I can pick up his jacket. “On your phone. You got a?—”
The gun is instantly in my face. “Toss it over.”
I do as he says. He picks it up, biting down on the collar so he can rummage in his pockets without taking his eyes—or gun—off of me.
Fuck it, he doesn’t even blink. The gun never wavers. And that tanned finger with its faded tattoos stays curled around the trigger.
He finds his phone, drops his jacket back to the ground as he unlocks it, and glances down at the screen.
I have a chance, and I fucking take it. Who knows, it might be the last I ever get. I lunge away, hands clawing against the wall to speed up.
There’s a quiet crack , like someone setting off a firecracker in the distance.
Plaster hits my face.
I drop into a half-crouch as I wait for pain to flood out from a bullet wound somewhere on my body. But when I feel nothing, my eyes flutter open again.
There’s a hole in the wall five inches from where my head had been.
I let out a jagged breath, stirring a strand of dirty-blond hair hanging in my face.
“J-Je-sus,” I stammer, turning to gape at Savage.
“Stay where you are,” he says calmly, his eyes still glued to his phone. God, had he even been looking when he fired that shot?
I slowly straighten, swallowing down bile when I realize I nearly died.
He’s still busy with his phone.
“You playing fucking Candy Crush or something?” I snap, wishing my voice didn’t shake as much as it did.
“Quiet, Angel. Papi’s reading.”
My breath huffs out as I inch my way toward the corner.
Savage shoots again. The bullet lodges into the wall less than an inch from my shoulder. My jaw bunches, my teeth grinding together. I want to kick my feet and scream and call him an asshole.
But instead I stay where I am like a good little girl.
“Done yet?”
His mouth pulls into a grim line as he slides his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Are you shitting me?” I yell.
He shakes his head, pawing the air with his other hand, telling me to keep it down. I guess the last thing he wants is everyone in the restaurant realizing there’s a gunman out here.
It could cause a stampede.
I wish I had the guts to scream. But I’m so far down Shit Creek not even a fucking powerboat could help me right now.
Instead, I rush forward and stab a finger right into the firm, perfectly contoured pectoral muscle Savage’s white t-shirt is straining over. I keep poking him, punctuating every important fact.
“I told Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Fucking-Dee to call you like a billion times, but you were too fucking busy with your cartel bullshit to give a single fuck about your wife’s. Kidnapped. Sisters !”
I puff at a chunk of hair that’s fallen in my face and decide poking the bear might not be an option worth pursuing. It’s as if his pec is getting harder the longer I go on.
“They didn’t even know about my sisters, Savage. You were off doing God knows what. Can you really blame me for taking matters into my own hands?”
“Are you done?” I swear he’s holding back a smile. It makes me want to knee him in the groin, but I’m just as aware that the barrel of that fucking gun is gaping in my direction.
“For now,” I mutter.
“Good.” He shoves the Beretta behind his back, and I relax.
Finally, he’s starting to see things my way. Maybe now he’ll understand why?—
“Run.”
“Wh…?” I flash him an uneasy smile. Clear my throat. “Run?”
He throws out his hands like he’s shooing a horse out of its stall.
“Yeah, Angel. Run .”
I back up, stopping only when I hit the wall again. “I don’t…what are you..?”
It takes him two strides to reach me.
He grabs a fistful of my hair, drags me away from the wall, and shoves me so hard I nearly land face-first in the weeds. I scramble up in a rush, dusting my palms as I spin to glare at him.
“Do what you’re so fucking good at.” He grins carnivorously. “I’ll even give you a five-second head start.”
I stumble back a step.
Most people look better when they smile. Joy makes their eyes sparkle. Happiness deepens the creases in their cheeks. They even get cute little crow’s feet.
Not Savage.
When he smiles, it’s like a doorway to Hell creaking open.
I would have begged, but then he purrs out an almost seductive, “One.”
There’s a stretch of open land behind the restaurant nestled between some storm drains and the back of a construction site. Now it makes sense why that hedge wall was so high. The view would have been atrocious.
Thank God I’m wearing sneakers.
But curse Satan for this dress.
I hike the skirts up to my hips as I sprint away, and that helps…a little. But the fabric keeps snagging on the bushes as I whip past them at top speed.
Huh, open land? More like congested wilderness. Nearly impenetrable scrub disguises the scraggly trunks of the trees scattered throughout. Everything is trying to slow me down, and that’s not even taking into account the uneven ground. I don’t know how many times I stumble over a loose rock or exposed root. Thankfully, there’s usually a bush to fall into, so the amount of times I actually hit the ground is few.
Savage crashes through the foliage behind me. That sound puts the fear of God into me. Alligators aren’t even at the top of my mind right now. I mean, of course I’m scared of them, there’s just no time to think about what’ll happen if I run into one of them. The predator on my heels is priority numero uno .
A section of the netting erected as a temporary screen around the construction site is hanging loose. I leap through it like a gazelle, vaguely shocked that I made it here before he caught me.
I skid on the loose sand under me, struggling to recover as I careen around one of the many containers stacked around the site. I’ve just found my feet when Savage materializes in front of me like a fucking hallucination. I slam into him, and would have bounced off and hit the ground if he hadn’t grabbed me around the throat and rammed me into the nearest container.
“Too slow, Angel.”
I’d argue, if I wasn’t too busy fighting for breath. He has more than a foot of height on me. How the hell am I supposed to compete with his long legs?
Savage uses the grip on my throat to lift me from the ground, my back sliding up against the warm metal. Then his mouth crashes against mine, and I’m left with no viable option for air.
My legs wrap around his waist. It eases some of my weight from his hand, which is good, but also creates a searing friction between my legs as I struggle to get out of Savage’s grip…which is really muddying the waters.
He grabs my thigh with his free hand, sinking his fingers into my flesh, and holds me still as he grinds his hips against me.
I whimper into our kiss as an ache grows deep inside me.
“I won’t have you disobeying me like this,” my husband snarls against my neck when he finally tears his mouth away from mine.
He eases the grip on my throat, and I drink in hungry gasps of air, but my lungs are hardly replenished before he rips my underwear to the side and sinks his fingers inside me.
Air rushes out of my gaping mouth in a harsh exhale.
Hands that had been clawing at the fingers around my throat grab his shoulders, digging into the muscle as a rush of pleasure surges through me. I buck against his fingers, forcing them deeper, and he leans back to watch me as I get myself off.
He doesn’t seem to like the fact that I’m enjoying it.
I groan in disappointment when he drags his fingers out of me. “I was almost done. Why’d you stop?”
“Because I’m only getting started, Angel.”
He grabs my hair and drags me over the ground. My sneakers leave troughs through the sand, then divots as I start kicking and screaming in pain. I scratch, claw, punch his hand, but I might as well have saved my strength.
“Motherfucker!” I yell as he throws me to the floor outside the manager’s trailer. He smirks almost charmingly when I scramble up to face him, then points at the door with his eyes.
“Open it.”
“Pretty sure it’s locked,” I tell him sourly, but I pull on the handle anyway in case he thinks I’m lying.
“You’re a strong girl.”
Fuck, I want to ram his head through a goddamn window the way he’s staring at me right now. Instead, I kick the door with all my might, aiming right below the handle. It springs open, a long splinter of wood swooning away from the edge where the lock tore free.
I rush in ahead, hunting for something to mutilate Savage with. But there’s just a bunch of office junk inside. The portable printer doesn’t even look heavy enough to leave a dent in my husband’s thick skull.
He comes in behind me, the floor shuddering under his heavy footfalls. He doesn’t bother trying to close the partially destroyed door, which briefly gives me hope. Like, maybe he wants to get in the shade. Skin cancer is no joke, and he’s probably not even wearing sunscreen.
“What am I going to do with you, Angel?” He takes off his jacket, folding it neatly, before dropping it to the floor.
“Look, you’ve made your point, okay?” I hurry around the desk that’s even thinner than the door outside, trying to keep something between us. “I said I’m sorry. Let’s just move on.”
He unbuckles his belt. “No, you didn’t.”
I frown, watching him pull the leather free as ghostly millipedes start crawling around in my stomach. “Really? You sure?”
“Pretty sure I’d know if Hell froze over.” He coils his belt and places it on top of his jacket, straightens, and saunters toward me with malicious intent.
My frown turns into a glare. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“If only there was a shred of contrition on your face,” he says calmly as he shoves the desk aside with a single push. “But all I see in those pretty blue eyes is stubbornness.”
I throw a stapler at him.
He dodges.
Smirks.
Lunges .
Thank God I catch his wrists before he can latch on to my throat again, but it doesn’t really help. He flicks off my hands and crashes bodily into me, pinning me between a low-back office chair and the wall with its tiny, dusty window. I try to break the glass with my elbow, hoping for a shard to defend myself with, but it’s surprisingly resilient.
“I’ll just have to fuck some remorse into you.” His eyes are chips of black stone that seem to pierce through my skull.
I’m so shocked, I don’t even fight back when he turns me around and bends me over the back of the chair. Air caresses my exposed ass and thighs infinitely more gently than the way he glides his strong hands over my skin.
“I’ll never apologize for trying to protect my family!” I throw over my shoulder, adding a hard glare in case he thinks this is still dirty talk.
“Never?” His hand cracks over my ass.
Once.
Twice.
Then across my wet underwear.
I spit out a furious, “Ever!”
“Never is a long time. But I think I can fit in a few hate fucks a day in between my cartel duties.” He grabs my pussy, jerking me up to tip toes. My underwear rips under the force of one hard tug.
He kicks my legs open and gives my bare pussy a hard, ringing slap. I almost go through the fucking roof, my hands white-knuckled on the arms of the chair I’m draped over.
He slaps me again, but this time he’s using his dick. It doesn’t sting as much, but it packs just as hard a punch. I try not to react, but my ass plumps out for him like I’m begging for it.
I am, but only to end my own suffering. Because, God, I’m aching something terrible inside.
“Christ, I love how wet you get for me.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I manage through clenched teeth as he drags his cock over my slick pussy. “As soon as I’ve found them, I’ll be flipping you off in the rear view mirror.”
He spreads me open with both hands, yanking so hard at my ass cheeks that I’m surprised I don’t rip at the seams like my pathetic underwear.
Heat flashes over my face at the thought of how wide I’m gaping for him. How exposed I am. Every hole bared and ready for him to force into.
And he does just that.
No warning, no easing into it.
He thrusts into my pussy so hard, the chair scrapes a foot over the floor. Then he stays buried deep, grinding his hips against mine like he’s trying to find an extra inch for his cock somewhere past my cervix.
Panic blooms inside my chest at the thought of him filling me with his seed. How his cock is throbbing, it feels seconds away from happening.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I yell, shoving up with one hand so I can reach behind me and try to claw his dick.
He slaps my ass, making me yelp in surprise. He draws out his cock a few inches, only to slam into me again.
The pain is exquisite.
The pleasure utterly hedonistic.
The chair scrapes forward another foot as he fucks me slow and hard, only stopping when it hits the other wall. Jammed into the corner, he makes me beg for release as he punishes my clenching pussy with one hard, violent thrust after another.
“Savage, please!” I can feel a climax headed my way, and he hasn’t even touched my clit.
He’s that thick, that fucking hard.
He spits, and I feel warmth hit my asshole a moment before he smears it with his thumb. I whimper at the thought of him stretching both holes, filling me to the brim.
Something cool, round, and hard presses against my asshole.
Not his thumb, like I’d been expecting.
I whip my head around, gaping in shock at the Beretta in his hand. “What the fuck are you doing!” I bleat in panic.
“Easy, Angel. Everything’s terribly slippery back here. “
My body locks up like someone encased me in cement. He’s only got half his cock inside me, I guess so there’s enough room to sodomize me with his gun.
“You’re fucking insane.” But I say it quietly, because even the thump of my heart feels like it could set off the trigger.
“Because I keep letting you get away with your bullshit? I think so too.”
“Because you have your gun in my fucking—” I cut off with a strangled moan as he starts moving his cock in and out of my pussy. “Savage, please, I can’t do this?—“
“Oh, Angel, you already are. You’re taking it so good, like the strong, brave little girl you are.” He starts fucking me with the first two inches of his suppressor, falling into rhythmic alternating thrusts between the gun and his cock.
So slow.
But so fucking deep.
I can’t help moaning. My fingers are leaving dents in the chair’s upholstery. I’ve never felt this desperate to come, this afraid that I’ll die if I do. Every hair on my body is lifting, goosebumps spreading over my arms and legs.
He pulls the gun out, but I don’t even have time to relax before his cock replaces it. Savage forces the tips of all five fingers into my pussy, keeping them pressed tightly together as he pushes them deeper inside.
I gasp, my body shuddering as he slowly widens his fingers, still keeping the tips pressed together. His cock forces its way deeper into my ass.
The way he’s filling me, I’m ready to burst. To come undone and leave planet Earth.
He pumps his cock into my ass, harder, deeper, setting such a devastating rhythm that he could have recited the periodic table and I wouldn’t have noticed. He comes with a shudder and a groan, slamming into my ass so hard I let out a hoarse yell. My pussy clenches his fingers, my ass gripping him just as tight.
I’ve never gone skydiving, but this is how I imagine those first few seconds as you step out of the plane would feel. When you suddenly become aware just how big a part gravity plays in your life. When you realize the solid ground you’re suddenly craving would absolutely kill you if your parachute didn’t open.
But before I can come, Savage pulls out of me and slaps my pussy so hard I see stars.
The stinging pain drives my orgasm away.
I’m left draped over the chair, shell shocked in the worst way.
Clit throbbing, pussy aching, my entire body shivering.
Savage’s zip rasps behind me. Then muffled clicks as he unscrews his gun’s suppressor.
“I wasn’t finished, you motherfucker,” I say woodenly.
My body still feels shrouded in lead, too heavy to move. Maybe that’s why I barely move when he plants a chaste kiss on my ass cheek, and hardly whimper when he tries to take a chunk out of my flesh with his teeth, leaving a stinging bite mark behind.
He pats me like a horse, and tugs my dress down over my back.
“Only good girls get to come. And you’ve been a bad girl, Angel.”
The rage flares out of me like a lightning strike. I don’t even know what I’m about to do until I’ve hurled myself in the desk’s direction and snatched up the pair of scissors I must have been eyeing subconsciously the entire time Savage was fucking me with his gun.
I must have caught him off guard, because when I turn and charge him, he almost doesn’t get a hand up to defend himself before I have him pressed to the wall.
He could push me away, but now I have a weapon, and its wickedly sharp point is currently denting the side of his neck.
“Why would I be with someone who doesn’t give a shit about me or my sisters, huh? “
He keeps his one hand up, palm facing me.
There’s stony sullenness on his face, and that makes me smile, despite how badly I want to end his life. How dare he fuck me like that and not even have the decency to make me come?
I know it’s his punishment because I ran away, but doesn’t he fucking know me by now?
I can smell his cum, my arousal, the dust and the cheap pine used to make this place. I toss a chunk of hair out of my face. I’m still aching inside, clit still thumping like a second heart.
Maybe I should bend him over the chair and see how deep I can shove that Beretta into his asshole.
God, just the thought makes tears run down the inside of my leg.
“That’s not true,” he murmurs. I don’t like the fact that his usually cold, dead eyes are flickering with a heat that could only be anger. I know there’s a furnace churning inside him most days, but it’s so rare that he allows it to surface.
“If only there was a shred of concern on your face,” I angle the tip of the scissors until it’s pricking the flesh under his chin, exactly where he’d been pointing that fucking gun of his. “But all I see in those pretty brown eyes is a monster.”
Those dark eyes narrow.
I press the scissors a little harder against his throat, right at the junction of what looks like a bird of prey and a flaring sun.
“Stop calling me that,” he grates out.
“What? A monster?” I press a little harder, until a tiny dot of blood springs out of his punctured skin. “If it looks like a duck, and sounds like a duck…”
God, I can’t take it anymore. The way his black eyes are watching me, the slow bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. I’ve never had him at my mercy like this before.
Keeping one hand on the knife, I use the other to gather up my pale skirts until I can slip under and touch myself. Savage glances down, and then his eyes are back on mine, furiously narrowed like he’s daring me.
I don’t need him to egg me on. The moment I touch my clit, bliss surges through me. My mouth trembles as I rub myself faster, tiny moans slipping out as my pleasure builds.
“No one tells me when I can come, Papi,” I breathe, moving the tip of the scissors a quarter inch away from his throat in case I stab him when I climax. But I don’t know if it’s because he looks so grim, but I’m not getting there as fast as I’d like.
I take my hand away, stepping right up to him, his thigh between my legs. My pussy grinds against his jeans, reaching just below mid-thigh.
Fuck, that feels good. I start humping his leg, moaning when he shifts his weight so that his knee is slightly bent, giving me an even better angle.
I’m so close. My eyelashes flutter, mouth parting as I pant softly.
“As soon as I’m done here, you’re taking me to see Donny. Hear me?”
He whispers, “Sure, Angel.”
Those black eyes lock with me, cords in his neck standing proud as he tips his chin up and stares down his nose at me. I hump his leg even faster, my hips rolling. I grab his cock through his jeans, squeezing him so tight that his next words come out strained.
“Whatever my strong, brave little girl needs.”
I pant out a frantic, “Fuck!” and come with a blinding rush of euphoria. I collapse against him, writhing against his unmoving body, moaning into the side of his neck, biting on his earlobe.
I’m barely done climaxing when he presses the muzzle of his Beretta against my throat. He uses that pressure to force me a step away from him, then another, until he has me at arm’s length.
“Way to ruin my afterglow, motherfucker.”
“Drop it,” he says.
The scissors clatter to the floor.
“You’ll pay for this later,” he says, his eyes giving my impromptu weapon a cursory, dismissive glance.
“Why not now, Papi?” I spread my hands, and then tuck them under my armpits. “Unless you’ve actually decided my sisters might be important?”
He drops the arm holding his gun and then tucks it behind his back. Picks up his belt and jacket. Dresses himself.
Meanwhile, I want to spontaneously combust from impatience. I lift a hand, gesturing for him to slow down as he meticulously adjusts his clothes. “No, seriously, take your fucking time. It’s not like they’re off at summer camp, you know. Someone’s putting them through some fresh hell every minute of every fucking day.”
Savage lifts his chin, staring down at me without an ounce of humor.
“Keep talking to me like that, Angel. See what happens.”