39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
HARLOW
Lynx’s hot mouth is on me, his long, skilled fingers inside me. I’m enveloped by his overwhelming presence, a Kevlar cocoon of security I never knew I needed until he took a sledgehammer to my walls and barged straight inside my fortress of loneliness and made himself at home.
Every last inch of me has been consumed by him.
Mind, body, and soul.
Panting, I peer down at him as he works me over, savoring me like a death row inmate would savor his last meal.
When we lock eyes, I come violently on his hand, my walls contracting around his fingers as I throw my head back and cry out in ecstasy, completely unfazed by the two dying men lying on the floor only a few feet away.
My arousal coats the insides of my thighs, like tears of relief dripping from between my legs as he slows his pace and laps at my wetness.
My head has barely reattached itself to my body when Lynx stands and spins me around so I’m bent over the table beneath Jesus Christ with my palms flattened in front of me.
“Lynx,” I rush out as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pushes into me from behind, seating himself there.
The intrusion is sudden but so fucking welcome because I know he’ll take care of me in every way.
Gripping my jaw, he angles my face toward Connor and Franklin and buries his nose in my hair.
“They’re dying, Harlow, both of them bleeding out on your father’s beloved church floor. Judging by the pools of crimson surrounding their bodies and the shallow rise and fall of their chests, they only have a few more minutes. Which means you have two options here, little killer.”
I blink up at the man who’s flipped my world upside down in a matter of weeks.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly. So handsome. So lethal.
So mine.
He nips at my bottom lip and slowly slides out of me, the steel balls on the end of his cock teasing my clit before he pushes back in again.
Insanity. This is insanity.
Against my mouth, he murmurs, “We can stop this right now, pretty girl, and you can kill them. Or you can watch the light fade from their eyes while I make you come on my cock. The choice is yours, Harlow. I’m sorry for taking that from you in the past.” His voice cracks with his apology, the sincerity in his tone causing something in my chest to split open.
I glance over at Connor and Franklin again. At the blood. At the waxy sheen coating both of their faces as they struggle to stay conscious.
Do I want the satisfaction of plunging a knife into their hearts? Of course I do. I’ve dreamt of this day for years. Fantasized about it. Pretty much made it my entire personality.
Yet all I crave in this moment is Lynx. The hitman who was hired to end me because they were too weak and pathetic to do it themselves.
When I peer back up at him, my decision becomes final. And I have no regrets about how this will end.
“I don’t need their blood on my hands to make them pay, Lynx. But I do need your name spilling from my lips to be the last thing they hear before they die.”
His eyes flutter shut briefly as he fights for control over his baser urges. But that control soon snaps, and he fists my hair and tugs my head back against his chest, his cock buried deep inside me as his mouth hovers over mine.
“Open that pretty mouth of yours, Harlow, and stick your tongue out.”
I don’t hesitate, opening my mouth and flattening my tongue for him to spit onto it possessively, staking his claim on every part of my body the way he seems to enjoy doing.
“Good girl. Now swallow.”
I do that too, a grin tugging at my lips at our depravity as he begins to thrust in and out of me at a steady pace, one hand wandering my curves as though memorizing every hill and valley of my body while the other coils around my throat, holding me upright.
Our bodies meld perfectly together, my back to his chest, his heartbeat slow and strong against my shoulder. His hot breath against my skin as he kisses and licks up the length of my neck, nibbling on my ear as he rocks into me.
“You’re a storm, Harlow. But fuck if I don’t crave the chaos and destruction you leave in your wake. My pretty little killer. My undoing. My fucking everything.”
His name spills from my lips on a moan.
Pleased by that, he reaches down and circles my clit. Bites my neck. Fucks me hard and fast until my head is spinning and a delicious ache builds deep in my core.
I’m already spent, delirious from the first two orgasms.
But he doesn’t relent. And I’d hate him forever if he did.
Just when I think I might spontaneously combust, he grabs my left hand and swipes his thumb over the scar on the inside of my wrist and murmurs, “Every breath you take belongs to me now, pretty girl. Every nightmare. Every second of pain you’ve ever been forced to suffer through.
It’s all mine. Because even though you’ll be the death of me, I love you, Harlow.
I love you so much it physically hurts. Every dangerous, fucked-up part of you.
Now come for me, little killer. And show them what they’ll never fucking have. ”
Heat pricks the edges of my eyes at his words. At the pain behind them.
I love you, Harlow.
The tension in my core snaps. And so does the chain that’s been cinched around my heart since the day I realized my life would never be the same again.
I can’t stop the tears from carving a hot path down my cheeks. Nor can I stop the orgasm from tearing through me as I shatter in Lynx’s arms, fireworks exploding behind my eyes as every trauma I’ve held captive in the darkest corners of my mind breaks free from its cage.
Traumas that, although are still very real—very palpable—Lynx has somehow soothed. He’s pushed me out of my comfort zone, forcing me to expose all the most painful wounds I keep hidden under a fortified layer of rage and hatred. And he’s treated them with care I don’t fucking deserve from him.
The demons of my past may have created this monster that lives within me. But Lynx has given it a home. A place to finally rest in peace.
And for that …
“I love you too.”
A satisfied growl rumbles from his chest as he laces his fingers with mine, burying his face in my neck as he comes hard and fast, filling me with warm jets of cum as he whispers sweet words of adoration against my skin.
A smile splits across my face as I angle my head and gaze into the lifeless eyes of the two men lying on the floor of the nave.
Six monsters, all led by my father. Dead. Rotting. Burning in hell where they belong.
A weight has been lifted from my chest, a burden I’ve been bearing ever since the day I watched my father take his last breath.
And I realize I no longer need to count down.
I can simply …
Breathe.
My father’s favorite passage plays over in my head as I watch Lynx drag Franklin and Connor’s corpses out the church door and haul them up into the bed of his truck.
Proverbs 31:30: Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Like hell will I ever again ponder whether that may be true or not because any Lord of mine would not wish to be feared. He’d lead with grace, empathy, and love.
Which is why I never conformed to my father’s beliefs in the first place.
But still, generally speaking, I don’t have a problem with religion. In fact, having faith in something bigger than yourself—a force that encourages you to hold good moral standards—is something I respect.
Where society has gone wrong is in the abuse of power that religion often promotes.
Money. Control. Desire.
It’s all toxic, the leaders of such groups all poisonous snakes that have weaved their way through the belief system that once held humanity together.
And the only way to protect the innocent souls that will eventually fall prey to it is to chop the heads of those snakes clean off.
Burying my nose in the collar of Lynx’s jacket he draped over me, I fill my lungs with his scent, recalling the first time I laid eyes on him that one stormy night in the diner.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly.
A contract killer who was ordered to put a bullet between my eyes but couldn’t do it until he knew I was deserving of it.
Now the man I know would walk to the edge of the earth to keep me safe.
Smirking at how ridiculous it all sounds in my head, I wait with bated breath as he grabs a large can of gasoline from the back of his truck and disappears inside the church.
When he returns a few moments later, the can is empty. And my chest is tight with anticipation.
Towering over me, he hooks my chin with his forefinger and brushes his lips across mine.
“Light the match, pretty girl. And let’s burn this place to the fucking ground.”
I light the match.
And we burn the place to the fucking ground.