Chapter 25 Abi
ABI
Ididn’t realize how desperately I’d been waiting for Nameless’s kiss until it happens, until he’s pulled me up against his warm, strong body, his arms wrapping tight around my shoulders.
His tongue probes into my mouth, deep and searching, and all I can do is slump into his embrace and kiss him back.
“I wanted to see your face,” he whispers, breaking the kiss to speak into my skin. “When you saw what I did for you.”
He moves his mouth down to my throat and sucks hard on the skin there, right against my pulse. I moan and slump backward. When my bare thighs bump up against the drawer, I startle at the cold against my skin.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I protest, although it sounds feeble even to me, especially as Nameless slides his hand up to squeeze at my breasts, his mouth still exploring all the sensitive places along my neck.
“He deserved it,” Nameless mutters, shoving up my flimsy T-shirt. I don’t stop him. I should stop him. But before I know it, the shirt is gone, and my skin shivers in the cold air of the examination room. “No one has any right to talk to you like that.”
He shoves me back, lifting me onto the drawer.
The drawer with the body.
“What are you—”
Nameless swallows the question with a kiss and unlatches my bra. I moan into his mouth, fear and disgust and desire twisting together. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.
And yet the space between my thighs is on fire.
Nameless slides his hands down to my shorts and fumbles with the button, still kissing me with a furious hunger. I can’t feel the corpse, but I’m aware of it behind me. The guy who catcalled me, who humiliated me over nothing. Reduced to cold, ruined meat.
Nameless pulls down the zipper on my shorts, slow and teasing. At the bottom, he stops and pulls back and looks at me, his lips swollen from kissing.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he says in a voice brimming with smoke and sin. “Right here.”
Dark, dizzying lust shoots straight through me. No. No, I have to stop this. This is wrong. This is depraved. This is—
This is the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.
Nameless drags my shorts down, bringing my panties with them. He kneels in front of me, guiding one leg out, then the other. I shiver—from the cold air. From my horror at myself. From the scorching desire brimming in my clit.
“Are you going to tell me to stop?” he murmurs against my calf, kissing it softly, working his way up.
The cold metal presses into my thighs, making me shake. I don’t know how to answer, so I don’t.
“Are you?” he asks, more sharply. Then he looks up at me, the mask distorted above his red, eager mouth.
“No,” I whisper. It hangs on the frigid air, a terrible, terrible truth.
Nameless grins. “I told you,” he says. “You understand me.”
Then he kisses my cunt. The sudden heat of his mouth makes me cry out and jolt backward, and my hand brushes against the corpse’s lifeless flesh.
Heat surges through my body.
I tell myself it’s from Nameless and his talented, dexterous tongue, which is currently swirling around my clit like he’s determined to make me come as quickly as possible.
But I know that’s a lie. And as Nameless licks me, I move my hand back, centimeter by centimeter, until I feel the flesh again.
Another shudder of desire wracks through me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath coming out in short, frantic gasps. Nameless moans against my pussy, and the heat of his mouth is a startling, delicious contrast to the cold slab of flesh beneath my hand.
It’s not that I have any desire to fuck the dead. It’s this body in particular. This man who humiliated me. And I don’t want to fuck his corpse, anyway. I want to—
I want to desecrate it.
“More,” I whisper, rolling my hips against Nameless’s face. He makes another soft moan and then, to my despair, pulls away.
The cold air washes over my drenched pussy.
“I’m going to fuck you on top of him,” he says, rising to standing. “You tell me if you want to look at him or not.”
My thoughts are like static. My cunt throbs with a need to be filled.
“I want to look at you,” I say softly.
Nameless gives me the smile of a predator. “You’re a fucking angel.”
I am no such thing, and we both know it. But it’s not a thought I can dwell on, because Nameless hoists me up by the waist and slides me onto the drawer. When the ice of the metal hits my ass, I cry out at the shock of it, at the contrast to the liquid heat between my legs.
And then he shoves me a few inches further until I bump against the body, the flesh cold and clammy against mine.
“Beautiful,” he says, and there’s a kind of wonder in his voice. He slides his mask down, hiding his mouth but giving me a view of his eyes again, and I shudder as they drink me in, naked and splayed out across a dead fucking body.
“Touch yourself,” he orders.
I do, snaking my arm down to circle against my clit. I’m drenched. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so wet. I can feel it pooling on the metal.
I’m going to have to sanitize this, I think, just for a second, before all I can focus on is my pleasure.
Well, my pleasure, and the sight of Nameless pulling out his cock.
I might have had it in my mouth a week ago, but I didn’t really get a good look at it, not in the dark. Here, beneath the bright, gleaming lights of the examination room, I see it in all its glory: thick and slightly curved and already beading with precum.
He steps up to me and pulls my hand away from my clit so he can replace it with his cockhead. I moan and tilt backward, draping myself over the stiff, freezing flesh of the man he killed. Nameless rubs his dick along my slit, slowly easing himself in.
“Do you like this?” he murmurs, teasing me with his cockhead. “Pressed between me and my victim?”
“Yes,” I gasp out. There’s no hesitation. I can’t deny it. Not anymore.
“So do I,” he says.
Then he slides his full length into me.
For a moment, he doesn’t move. Just buries himself in my pussy, his masked face inches from mine. His breath shudders softly as his dark, glittering eyes search my face.
“Finally,” he breathes, slowly starting to roll his hips against mine. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”
I whimper as his thrusts quicken, his cock sliding against my drenched, slippery walls. Then he pushes himself on top of me, pinning me against the body of his victim. That cold flesh sears into my skin, although I can feel it warming beneath me. After all, my own body is on fire.
I hook my legs around Nameless’s hips and thrust against him, dragging his cock deeper inside me. It’s been years since I’ve had sex, mostly because it never, ever felt like this. It was always short and perfunctory and frankly boring. I was better off taking care of myself.
But for the first time, sex feels like something I can’t do on my own. Nameless pushes his cock inside me with hard, pounding thrusts, each one grinding me down against the corpse, like a reminder that he did that for me. Killed someone.
Just for insulting me. Just for making me uncomfortable.
I scream out my abandon, thrusting up into him. The examination room floods with a wet, slapping sound, and Nameless groans and runs his hands up to my waist to squeeze my breasts. The leather of his gloves is soft and satiny, and it feels just as good here as it did between my legs.
“Are you going to come for me?” he rasps. “On top of this corpse that I made for you?”
I nod, gasping. And I think I am. I can feel the swell of my pleasure building,
“Say it,” he orders, wrapping one hand around my neck, holding me down as he thrusts into me. “Say how happy you are I brought you this dead man.”
“Yes!” I choke out, my legs already starting to quaver. “Yes! Thank you! I knew it was you when I heard abo—”
I cut myself on as Nameless angles himself against my clit, making my whole core quake with need.
“Is that it?” He presses the mask’s twisting mouth against my ear. “Is that the spot you like, little detective?”
He does it again, striking my clit like a flint. I scream and flail my arms out to run my hands over the cool, rubbery skin of the dead body beneath me. This refrigerated meat is all that’s left of that asshole at the golf course.
I whimper wordlessly. Nameless keeps his rhythm steady, and I’m so wet that I can feel it slicking down my thighs. His cock slides through my folds like a knife through hot-melted better.
“I want you to come,” he pants. “I want to feel it around my cock. Can you do that for me, little detective?”
His hand tightens slightly around my throat, and I stare up at him. At the mask. At the eyes, boring into me.
“Faster,” I whisper. “Fuck me faster.”
He does. Faster, and harder, too. Hard enough that the drawer shakes on its tracks, and I bounce against the corpse, and my body seizes up.
“Just… like… that…” I choke out, grabbing at his arms. His eyes flash. He obliges, sliding his cock through my wetness so the base of it massages my clit. “Don’t… fucking… stop…”
“I’ll never stop,” he growls, fingers tightening just a little bit harder.
I don’t know what it is—if it’s his words, or if it’s the faint pressure of his grip threatening to cut off my air—but I come.
My pleasure pours through me, hot and molten, and I arch against the corpse and howl with ecstasy.
My lower body convulses, each contraction another ripple of pleasure, and Nameless doesn’t stop fucking me.
He drives into me over and over, and I can see a wildness in his eyes. A needy, desperate hunger.
Then he makes a strangled sound and shudders against me.
“Fuck,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. “Fuck, that was perfect.”
I wind my arms around his shoulders, pressing him into me. He nuzzles my neck, then grabs my waist and heaves me up, lifting me off the shelf entirely. I cry out in surprise and cling to him as he slowly lowers me down to the floor, pulling his cock out of me in the process.
I can’t believe the hot, slippery mess between my legs. Can’t believe I came like that—
On top of a corpse.
I look over my shoulder at the body. Our desperate fucking slid it sideways along the shelf, and the arm hangs off the side, along with the ruin of the head.
“You looked so beautiful,” Nameless says suddenly.
I jerk my gaze back over to him. He’s watching me intently, his cock still out, wet from my arousal.
“On the body,” he says. “I always wanted—”
He steps up to me and trails his fingers along the side of my neck, and I can’t move. Or tear my own gaze away from him.
“I always wanted to see you like that,” he says softly. “Screaming with pleasure on top of my work.”
I shiver, unsure what to say to that. I know it’s so fucking wrong, what we did. The worst kind of disrespect.
But he deserved it, whispers a cold voice in my head. Just like Blake Fletcher
And then there’s the worst thought:
I don’t care that he deserved it.
I would have loved it anyway.