45. Almost Done
~ brIDGET ~
I was still laying on the bed, naked, and doing my breathing exercises. My heart had slowed finally, but the tightness in my chest was making me nervous, which was counter-productive. I felt fragile and emotional and… I felt too much. That was the problem.
Inhale… exhale…
Live.
For now.
I’d been so consumed with my racing thoughts and racing heart, that I didn’t even realize anything was going on until a shadow passed over my window. And the only reason I saw that was because it was an almost full moon. The hunched figure outside my house got silhouetted against my curtains for a second as they headed for the back.
I stopped breathing immediately as my heart roared painfully into top gear again.
Cain. It had to be. No one else had enough information. And the new guys probably weren’t even local.
He’d come. He’d fucking come. He must have already been close. Thank God.
The relief slowed my heart a hair—but then I realized he was coming for me, which meant I was finally going to get to touch him, and that just turned my pulse into another tailspin that hurt.
I lay there, trying to breathe slowly and quietly so I could hear.
There was a click and a very small creak—the back door being popped.
I didn’t have the security system on because I was home and moving around.
I smiled as I imagined if I’d had my phone. I would have turned it on and lay here unmoving until the sensors caught his movement in the hall and the alarms screeched to life. My neighbors would have the cops here in minutes.
I wondered how fast he would have moved then.
I hadn’t put the security system sensors on the blueprints. I would have snorted, but my chest was aching and I was a little bit worried, so I kept breathing, ears perked, waiting for some indication about how deep he’d gotten into the house so far.
But there was nothing. He was silent as a cat.
Very impressive.
Then my bedroom door, which was only half open—not enough for those broad shoulders—began to slowly, silently slide open.
I watched it, my heart hammering harder and faster as I tried to imagine what his first word would be.
I almost missed the moment he peered in—it was dark in the room, and the moonlight behind the curtains only made the barest glow. I could see shapes, but no detail. And he was crouched low, barely higher than the doorknob as he crept in.
I almost said something, almost moved so he’d know I was watching him, but I was grinning, waiting to shock him, mentally preparing a defensive move for when he struck, deciding whether to try and roll him off the bed, or hurt him first—when the figure half straightened because he’d reached the carpet of the bedroom and it occurred to me that the shoulders weren’t right.
Not quite broad enough.
A little too streamlined.
As he crept along the wall towards the side of the bed where I lay, I blinked, my heart pounding as he slowly straightened… and then something in his hand caught the light. Some kind of metal.
Cain didn’t bring weapons.
Instinct launched me off the opposite side of the bed like my hair was on fire, grunting because I pushed myself so hard, then rolled to my feet with the bed between us, sucking in a breath to scream—and mentally cursing myself for not knowing where my phone was.
But there was no time for thought beyond that as the guy hissed, “There you are,” and my entire body tensed, my brain flashing a memory of Ronald outside Vigorí , leering. “And already waiting for me,” he added lecherously.
“NO!” I screamed, throwing myself towards the door, praying I was quick enough and it was dark enough that he wouldn’t make it to me before I reached the hallway. I had a panic room just off my office and if I could put enough space between us I could—
“RUN, brIDGET!” Cain roared, tearing into the room, hands extended and clawed, going straight for Ronald and ignoring me completely.
“He’s got a knife!” I screamed, twisting out of his path as the two of them launched at each other.
A thick hand landed on my waist and threw me out the door so hard I fell to my knees on the hard floor. But I didn’t even feel it, just leaped back up, whipping around to watch the dark shadows come alive, grunting, snarling, smacking—and flashing.
I gasped, hands over my mouth when I saw that blade flash and heard the slap of flesh on flesh—but that shine was halted almost immediately and there was a moment when neither of them really moved as they wrestled for control—Ronald trying to slide that blade under Cain’s ribs, and Cain gripping his wrist, snarling.
Something happened, the shadows of the two men melding, turning, then there was a thunk and a single flash as that blade tumbled to the floor, then one form flipped with a roar, crashing against the wall near my bathroom and suddenly everything was still.
One form, hunched, back and shoulders heaving, stood for a moment, hands extended, staring at the other, crumpled on the ground.
I plastered myself against the wall behind me for a second as I blinked and blinked and tried to breathe, but my vision was blurring and I couldn’t figure out which one of them it was… until he straightened all the way and turned towards me.
Hooded.
Broad shoulders.
Body like a God, filling out a hoodie like—
“Cain?” I breathed.
He took two, halting steps then slapped the wall next to my bedroom door, flipping on the light and flooding my bedroom with light that silhouetted his form from where I stood in the hallway.
“You said this was real. That it wasn’t a game,” he snarled.
I couldn’t breathe. “It’s… it’s not—”
“Is this what you do? You just taunt and tease and seduce until a guy can’t resist anymore, then you make sure he gets hurt? Does that make you feel good, Bridget?!”
“No! I wasn’t—”
“It’s fucking Sid Vicious!”
“I know—I mean, I didn’t know, but I realized when he spoke—”
Cain was prowling towards me, one finger stabbing towards me, then Ronald, as he ranted.
“You gave me only minutes warning that you were back in on this! What if I’d been one minute later, Bridget!”
“I didn’t call him!”
“Bullshit! You played with his fucking mind and now he’s—”
“NO! I didn’t! That’s a lie!” I screamed at him and realized my vision was blurred with tears as he stepped right up over me so I was locked between him and that wall. His body so big and shoulders so broad I couldn’t see the room behind him, and the light only haloed his shape as he loomed over me, that mask still obscuring his features so I couldn’t see his eyes.
“This is what you’re toying with—is this what you want? You want all of us coming for you at once—killing each other off? Is that the game you’re playing?!” he snarled.
“No! Cain—”
“One of these fuckers is going to get past me and you’re going to fucking die if you keep this up.”
“B-but… that’s the whole point,” I breathed.
“FUCK THAT. The end of this is my choice, Bridget. This is my game!”
My heart gave a painful clench and I slapped a hand to it, clutching my chest.
With a growl of fury, he grabbed for me, one hand at my throat, forcing my chin high, though he didn’t actually cut off my air as he pinned me hard against the wall with that stone pillar of a body.
It was instinct to slap a hand to his chest, to try and brace, to keep my space, but he was too strong. With his other hand he just gripped my wrist and slammed it up against the wall, forcing my head back as he leaned down, his breath tearing in and out, fluttering against my cheek even through the mask.
“Are you trying to get me killed, Bridget?” he rasped. “Do you get off on that?”
“No,” I whimpered, shaking my head hard, the tears finally spilling over my lashes and down my cheeks. I was mortified.
I needed to be stronger than this. But my tears were relief, because he was here. He was warm and strong and here.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I didn’t move… I thought it was you… I was waiting for you.”
There was a moment he went still, that mask less than an inch from my face, our chins almost brushing and I knew he was searching my eyes, trying to figure out if I was lying.
My body thrummed with a confusing mix of fear and arousal.
His breath was heavy, rasping, and mine was getting heavier too. But my chest was pinching and those lights still flashed at the edges of my vision.
I was feeling more than a little unhinged—and tense with the awareness that Ronald was on the floor behind him.
“Did… did you kill him?”
Cain’s breath rushed out of him, but he shook his head quickly. “Not yet,” he said menacingly.
I swallowed, my throat rubbing against his palm because of the way he held me and wished I could see his eyes.
“Did he touch you?” he growled.
“N-no. He didn’t have a chance. I’m… God, Cain, I’m so g-glad you’re back,” I managed to get the words out, though only barely. Because they made me vulnerable, and I was afraid he was still blaming me and would try to punish me by running. But he just tightened his grip on my jaw. His breathing got deeper and he looked down at where his body pressed against mine. I felt the low rumble in his chest against mine and almost laughed.
I was naked. And he was fully clothed. And I could feel him getting hard.
“It’s time, Cain,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”
“The fuck you are,” he muttered, still looking down, but then he released my wrist he’d had pinned against the wall and trailed that hand down my arm, against the side of my breast, then down my side, following the form of my waist and hip, then down…
I sucked in when he touched me.
He rumbled again, because I was already slick, and he entered me with two fingers immediately.
I bit my lip, but between his body and the way he held my throat, I couldn’t move without physically fighting, struggling. And I didn’t want him to let me go.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He snarled. “This is all you want—”
“No!”
“Don’t lie to me, Bridget.”
“I’m-I’m not. There’s… there’s something about you, Cain. I want you.”
He went still for a moment, then pulled his hand away like my skin burned him.
He started to ease back, and I panicked.
“No! Cain!” I grabbed for him, but he fended me off and turned back to my bedroom, prowling back to Ronald’s crumpled form on the floor—one arm in a strange position that made me a little sick. I thought Cain had dislocated his shoulder and…
And it didn’t matter because Cain was pacing the floor of my bedroom, back and forth in front of Ronald.
“Bodies are evidence, Bridget. Difficult to hide.”
“I know. I wasn’t—I didn’t know he was coming. I swear, Cain. I thought it was you!”
Back and forth, his huge body prowling like a lion’s, his head shaking, but I could tell his gaze never left Ronald for long.
“This isn’t a game—I’m not playing anymore,” he growled.
“Me either. I swear. I wasn’t—”
He stopped dead and whirled to face me, pointing one man-hand at the floor at his feet. “Last chance, Bridget. You say the safe word and I leave. I’ll take this fucker with me. He won’t bother you again and this is over. Say it, or this ends on the next hunt.”
“Wasn’t… wasn’t that tonight?” I breathed.
“I told you—no one else chooses this for me—for us!” he snapped. “Make your choice, Bridget. Safe word. Or the last hunt?”
I licked my lips and said nothing, because now that he was here… I didn’t want either of those things. That was the truth.
“Bridget,” he snarled, a warning in his tone. “I’m not fucking playing.”
“I’m not giving you the safe word. Ever,” I whispered. “I mean it.”
With a menacing growl, he came for me again, grabbing me, lifting me, slamming me up against that wall again, prying my thighs apart with his knee, then reaching for me, hiking me up with one hand to keep me high, and invading me with the other, using the pad of his thumb on my clit at the same time he finger fucked me and pleasure rocked through me.
I gasped and grabbed for his shoulders, my head thunking back against the wall as he leaned in, catching the bottom of the mask on my shoulder and nudging it up so he could open his mouth on my neck, and sucking hard. Marking me, I realized.
I curled one hand over his head, cursing that hood and that mask, desperate to touch his skin and see his face. I reached down with the other, trying to find him—his buckle, his hard length—but his body was in the way and he was too strong, and—
“One more, Bridget,” he came off my neck and whispered hoarsely. “There’s only one more—take what you need now, because the next time I find you, this ends.”
“But… I need you.”
“You’ve got me… for now. Take it, Bridget. Take what you want.”
Letting my head fall back against the wall, I kept my eyes on his mask, trying to find his gaze as I began rolling my hips, urging him on, seeking that release. He shuddered as my hip thrusts grew shorter and faster and I rode his hand, never looking away until my body was rising, rising toward the climax. But then, just as I reached that height, he groaned and let me go so unexpectedly, my arms flailed and I clawed hands into his shoulders, feeling like I was about to fall.
But he’d only let me slide down the wall, down his body, so my feet reached the floor, and now he was dropping to his knees in front of me.
“Cain, what—”
He tipped his head up, his face still obscured by that mask, his chest heaving. Then he slid one hand up the back of my leg, cupped it behind my knee and lifted it, hooking it over his shoulder.
“I need to taste you,” he growled. “Close your eyes… Close your fucking eyes, Bridget,” he hissed.
Then he dropped his chin, pushed that mask up to the top of his head like a shield from my eyes, and laid his mouth on me.
A high, whimpering cry broke in my throat as he licked me from my core to my clit and my hips bucked.
He gave a low chuckle, grabbed my ass with both hands and held me there, thumbs on my butt cheeks, his fingers curling between my thighs and holding me apart.
I was perched there, balanced on the ball of one foot, the other knee hooked over his shoulder and my body quivering with every pass of his tongue.
But the pleasure… the warm, slick feeling of him, the rumbling in his chest, his breath—and mine—echoing in the empty, still house.
I broke in seconds, crying his name, clutching his head, my body arching, bowing against the wall and pressing harder against that incredible tongue… until all strength left me.
My heart was hammering so hard I shook from head to toe. And I was weak.
So fucking weak for him.
He propped me up against the wall as I tried desperately to get my breath back, pulling his mask back down before he looked up at me.
And then, my feet were on the floor again, but his warm, steel strength was upright and pressing me into the wall, one hand cupping my face, his thumb on my cheek, his fingers at the back of my neck and he leaned down.
His lips would have brushed my ear, I thought, but instead that cold mask filtered his breath against my skin.
“Get ready, Bridget. There’s only one more hunt.”
“W-when?” I gasped.
“That’s my choice.” When I tensed, he gripped me harder and shook his head. “Man up, Bridget. You chose our agreement. I choose when. You get what you want. And so do I. That’s how this works.”
Then my skin—flushed and heated from my orgasm—went cold, because he let me go and whipped around, grabbing Ronald and throwing him over his shoulder, then stalking out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the back door where they’d both entered.
And he didn’t say another word.