Misty
B efore him, I was an innocent, sweet little girl who wanted to make her brother proud by becoming a doctor.
After him, I became the demon he’s so aptly named me. Once he took my brother away and destroyed any chance I had at a future.
“You still don’t know me, do you?” I arch my back, whispering into his ear as I lay my head back on his shoulder and grind against his hard cock.
Tonight, we have a non-verbal truce. I’m still healing from our last game, and neither of us wishes to end things just yet, so we agreed to meet somewhere we can’t hide. Somewhere we can still have fun, just without our knives.
The strip club is neutral and high-end and enforces a strict dress code. A plush red velvet rope secures our area from the outside riff-raff yet puts us on display for whoever wishes to observe.
To everyone here, we’re just a couple of fucked up individuals who like to be watched.
Luca’s left hand cradles his crystal tumbler of whiskey as it rests on the arm of the crushed velvet armchair we’re sitting in. His right hand winds around my waist, curling to pull me closer before dipping lower to find the slit in my see-through dress.
His fingers swipe between my pussy lips, lazily playing with my clit as he widens his legs and pushes his hips up into my ass. I can feel the outline of his length as he rubs it against me, every nerve ending firing off with warm sparks. “I’ve thought long and hard about where we might have met before. I’d like to think I could never forget those eyes.”
“Yet, you did,” I state flatly. Pushing off him, I stand. He lets me go, eyes dragging down my body as I turn to look at him. His gaze makes me feel so alive, even when I know it’s the last thing I’ll see before death.
I take his tumbler, the large round ice cube clinking against the glass as I raise it to my lips and swallow the remaining amber liquid, welcoming the smoky trail that burns as it slides down my throat.
Holding Luca’s stare, I walk to the edge of the rope, handing the glass to our personal attendant, who is six feet of solid, oiled muscle and all too eager to please. “Fetch us a refill,” I command.
This persona is so far from the woman I used to be. Sometimes, it’s jarring how rude, how vile, how demonic I’ve become—the perfect little demon for her perfect big, bad monster.
“Perhaps when I return,” the waiter takes the glass in one hand then lifts my knuckles to his lips, “you’d like an extra mouth on this gorgeous body.”
“Perhaps you’d like your tongue cut from your inappropriate mouth.” Luca’s words charge the air with warning.
“Oh, but this is the poor man’s job—to ensure we’re completely taken care of. If he’s asking if I need an extra mouth, it must be because I don’t look satisfied,” I tease seductively, turning to wink at the man who pays Luca no mind.
Bad decision, my darling. Il mio mostro is not a creature to ignore.
As the man walks away, Luca crooks a finger in my direction as he stands. “Sit.”
I approach him, taking my time as every slow sway of my hips grinds on his nerves. When we are chest to chest, I tilt my head back to look at him but don’t take his place on the chair. His jaw tics, nostrils flaring as my lace-covered nipples brush against his bare chest where his shirt is unbuttoned .
Luca has always been able to turn me on with a simple glance. The first time I laid eyes on him, I fell in love. Back when I was a stupid, na?ve girl.
Now, I wonder how different things might have been if he’d just paid me a sliver of the attention I have now.
Our chests heave. Control is a tangible thing between us that we both have hold of—like a stick of dynamite that burns at both ends, yet neither of us relinquishes even though we’ll both be caught in the blast.
He grips my biceps, his touch sending sparks of electricity through my flesh as he guides me to the chair, our eyes never disconnecting. Luca reaches for the lace fabric of my dress and fists it, slowly tearing the see-through material. “You may be a creature of the underworld, piccola demone. But you are my creature, do you hear me? Mine to satisfy, mine to withhold pleasure from, mine to torture. You are mine to do with what I please, and I will kill anyone else who dares to even think of touching you.”
With every word, he punctuates his meaning with another rip until I’m bare before him. I can feel more than just his eyes on me—on us. But I dare not look away from my monster. There’s a fire in his eyes that burns only for me. A fire I set. A reminder that this could have been mine long ago if I’d just made my move sooner instead of waiting to exact my revenge .
A foreshadowing of my future.
For when I kill Luca, I will follow him to the depths of Hell because for as much as I am his, he will forever be mine.
“Every person in here is thinking of touching me right now.” I smirk, leaning back against the crushed velvet, my black Louboutins clicking against the floor as I spread my legs wide one at a time. “What will you do, il mio mostro? Will you cut out all of their eyes? Or will you show them who I belong to?”
His eyes rove the cuts that are still healing on the left side of my body, taking in his handiwork from the bite mark that’s still bruised to the puffy skin of my hood, where he pierced me with his knife.
I’m fully prepared for Luca to force me to choke on his cock again. Though I was drugged, I enjoyed the way he handled me. His cock is perfect—long and thick and veiny—and I’ve dreamt about wrapping my lips around it once more and biting down as he spills down my throat.
I’m surprised, however, when he slowly bends his knees to kneel before me.
He chuckles as my eyes widen a fraction. His hands cup beneath my thighs, raising my legs to rest over his shoulders. “Tonight, I will show them all what only I can do to you. Because even if there were someone else between your thighs, it’s me you would be thinking of. ”
“Fuck you, Luca.” I spit the words as he lowers his head to lick between my lower lips. My abdomen clenches, pure molten desire flowing up my spine and spilling down my legs.
I tense, heels digging into his back as he draws my flesh into his mouth, gently laving my wound with the flat of his tongue before he replies, “You did, . Or rather, I fucked you.”
He kisses my clit. “And I’ll do it again.”
Another kiss. “And again.”
Another. “And again.”
The velvet is smooth beneath my hands as I clutch the back of the chair, head tipped back as he slowly devours me. Luca doesn’t just eat my pussy, he savors it like he’s on death row, and I’m his last meal—consuming me with the kind of patience only a dead man walking would have.
“Open your eyes and watch me,” he commands from between my legs.
His words cut my building release off, and a whine escapes my chest as I do what he says because I desperately want to come. I want to launch myself at him and ride his beautiful face until my juices become part of his new skincare routine. I want my essence to be the only thing he drinks—the only nectar he needs to survive.
His lips rise and fall as he sucks my clit the way he would a candy that he’s trying to get to the liquid center of. His deep brown eyes lock on mine, changing his pace when he reads in them that something isn’t working, focusing on what does when my lids drop halfway, and I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head.
Luca’s tongue strokes and licks, and his lips suck and tease as he works my flesh to his will and my pleasure. And when I come, he swallows me down as though he’s afraid to spill a single drop.
“Fuck! Yes. Please,” falls from my lips in a string of repeated jumbled words as he continues to eat me like a man starved.
He lets out a grunt as my fingers twist in his hair, pulling tightly as I attempt to fuse his lips to my pussy. Every muscle is tense, every single cell on fire. My breasts heave with labored breaths, my mouth opening in a silent scream that cuts off my airway. A hot, burning ball tightly coils in my abdomen before snapping and shooting downward, flowing through me and into Luca’s mouth as he moans in approval.
Using his hair, I try to yank him away, bending in half to use my weight as leverage, but he uses it to his advantage. Never letting me go, he grips my thighs harder, scooping his arms beneath me and rising with my legs wrapped around his head, his mouth still glued between my thighs.
“Luca, please,” I sob as he stands, turning to sit in the chair. He lowers himself, maneuvering me to slide down his body, lips kissing every inch of me until I’m straddling his lap and we’re nose to nose.
His arms are warm as they wrap around me, shielding my nakedness from the crowd that gathered around our private area. We breathe heavily into the space between us, neither having anything to say as the act that just occurred settles itself, louder in this particular moment than words could ever be.
Luca brought me pleasure, not pain— willingly —just to show those watching what he could reduce me to. Not to humiliate me, but to assert ownership.
I knew this, and still, I let it happen.
Confusion dances with lust in both our eyes. Neither of us sated, yet both unsure of how to proceed.
Slowly, as if we’re both magnets, our heads draw closer together, canting to opposite sides, burnished bronze meeting cool seafoam as our lips touch.
It isn’t like it is in a romantic movie. We don’t lose ourselves in the kiss. Our mouths mold together, and I watch him warily while tasting myself on his flesh. And he watches me just the same, as if I’d take the opportunity to gouge out his eyes the moment he closes them.
But then, in a moment of pure lunacy, I melt against him, opening my mouth to claim his in a searing kiss that has my eyes fluttering closed .
Only to see my dead brother glaring at me through the darkness.
I pull back with a jolt, snapping open my lids just in time to see his eyes widen as well—meaning that as soon as I let myself be vulnerable, he did the same.
“I need…I need to go to the bathroom…to clean up.” The words taste like ash in my mouth as I scramble off his lap.
Without a word, he lifts his arms and tears his shirt from his shoulders, pulling it down over me to cover my body like a minidress. The crowd parts as I make my way to the bathroom not far from where we’re set up. No one dares approach me. And when I make it to the door, I turn back to see that Luca is watching me walk away from him, puzzlement etched into his already chiseled features.
The water is cold when I splash it onto my face, regarding my reflection in the mirror. “Get it together,” I whisper. “Now isn’t the time to catch feelings for him again.”
As I turn to leave, a man’s voice rings out, unmistakable as it echoes throughout the room. “It was never the time. Yet that didn’t stop you, did it?”
Whirling around, I see a clear image of my brother, Adam, in the mirror behind me. He looks handsome, blue-green eyes shining, skin clear of the blood I last saw smeared on it, wearing the new suit he had on the day he died—compliments of the Morroni family.
Checking over my shoulder, I see the room is empty except for me.
“You’re supposed to avenge me. Not be his whore!” he spits out nastily, tone so full of disgust that I drop my eyes to the counter.
“I know,” I tell him softly. “I know.”
When my eyes lift again, he’s gone, just like I know he will be.
Just like I know, he’s never truly there.