21. 21 - Zella
I can barely breathe as Enzo moves out of sight. I feel fingers tugging at the edge of my braid, the strands unraveling into his hands as he untangles them inch by inch.
The fire in my stomach that began in Maverick’s arms earlier feels like a blazing inferno now, my stomach clenching and twisting with something that draws the air from my lungs, my forehead damp with sweat as I strain to look behind me and see what Enzo is doing.
But the restraints are too firm, my wrists and ankles locked into place. The faded dark leather doesn’t give an inch when I tug on it.
My nerves are on a knife edge, every single part of me aware of the man behind me, his hands buried in my hair as he gently releases the braid. His fingers dig into my skull, rubbing at my scalp, and my eyes slide closed at the sensation.
“So prim and proper,” he murmurs. My eyelids flutter open, and my lips part on a gasp when his eyes appear. His face is barely an inch away, his mouth close to mine.
“Breathe, little prey,” he coaxes, and I suck precious air into my lungs.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Don’t want you passing out and missing the show.”
My tongue darts out, and I wet my lips nervously. “What show? What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, he reaches behind and pulls my hair forward in two sections, each one passing over my shoulder and down until it’s on display alongside me, the ends reaching beyond the edge of the table past my ankles. Enzo hums as he smooths it out, stepping back to view his work.
“So perfect,” he purrs. But his eyes are dark again as his fingers stroke the skin of my ankle.
“Are you going to hurt me?” I ask.
He turns those black orbs to me. “You chose to run to the monsters, princess. Are you regretting it now?”
He doesn’t understand.
“I chose to run from one,” I whisper. “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Enzo.”
Brave words, but his hands are gentle on my skin. His body pauses, his fingers lifting.
“Don’t trust me,” he whispers. “I could break you so easily, little prey.”
Maybe he could, and maybe I’m as naive as they imagine… but I’m not sure he’s going to.
I don’t want him to stop touching me.
“Don’t stop.”
He jerks. “You think pretty words are going to save you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t care. Just… don’t stop.”
He sets his hands against my legs, one on each side, and moves them upwards in sweeping strokes over my skin. The movement pushes my dress up, and I’m dangerously close to him seeing my most intimate parts.
I hold my breath, watching his inked hands caress my skin. His skin tone is paler than mine, his hands big and warm as his fingers brush the edges of my dress.
He looks up at me. “I’m not nearly done with you yet, little prey.”
His fingers push up my dress, inch by tortuous inch, and my legs tremble as his eyes follow.
A cry falls from my lips when his hand cups me suddenly, right there.
My body feels too sensitive under his grip, and I truly thrash against the restraints for the first time, bucking as he holds me. He pulls his hand away, and I shake as he moves over, grabbing the stool and pulling it over as he settles himself on it, his knees spread.
“What…” My words cut off as he pushes my legs open even further.
“Stop moving,” he says sharply. “I want to look at you.”
It takes me a second too long and he raises his hand. His palm connects with my hot flesh, the slapping sound echoing around us. I still, panting.
He reaches forward, his fingers pulling apart my folds as he looks at me. The light shines above us, and I squeeze my eyes shut, too overcome with embarrassment and something deeper, hotter, to watch.
The protest dies on my tongue, unspoken as he traces his fingers over me, right there.
“So pretty and pink and plump,” Enzo murmurs. His hand strokes across me and I make a noise in the back of my throat. “All these pretty curls are hiding you from me, little prey.”
He pulls on one. “Stay still.”
I open my eyes, staring down at where he balances a knife in his fingers.
Holding the handle, he leans forward, and I bite my lip as I feel a soft scrape against my skin.
My cheeks flush even brighter, heating my face as Enzo cuts away the curls that cover my genitals, laying them out one by one on my stomach.
It flexes under his light touch, and he squeezes my hip. “Still.”
When he’s finished, I can’t look at him for the embarrassment heating my body from the inside out. One hand grips the inside of my thighs, and he squeezes. “Open your eyes, prey.”
Slowly, I crack them open. The knife is still in his other hand, and he flips it so the blade is held in his grip.
“Have you ever had a cock inside you?”
His words are low and dark, and they make my heart thump inside my chest. “N-no?”
I know the basics. The anatomy of the human body. The differences between us, and that the pieces… fit together. But Ethan confiscated the textbook that taught me even that small amount.
And this feels nothing like the cold impracticality of those images. This is fire, and heat, as though I’m going to burn up into ash under Enzo’s touch.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Ours will be the last.”
Shock renders me immobile. “O-ours?” I manage to croak.
His eyes meet mine. “Mine. Ryder’s. Maverick’s.”
The handle of the knife slides up my center and back down, a warm and solid weight. He pauses it right at my entrance, and I suck in my breath as he moves it in a circle.
All of them? They all want to do… this?
I won’t survive it.
I’m not sure I’ll survive this.
“Nobody else touches what’s ours.” His eyes are still on mine, and I lift my hips, chasing the promise in the gentle touches. “I will kill them, prey. I will kill them slowly, and then I’ll fuck you on top of their corpse. Tell me you understand.”
My nod feels frantic. “I do. I understand.”
He rewards me with the push of the knife handle inside , and I throw my head back in a quiet moan at the feel of it pushing inside me. It feels so big, and Enzo laughs darkly when I gasp it out loud.
“This is nothing,” he promises. “My finger alone is twice the size, prey. I’m going to split you in half on my cock, and you’re going to beg me for more.”
He slides the knife in and out, my hips settling into a rhythm as I try to settle the clawing need in my belly. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. “Enzo, please.”
He hums. “So fucking needy.”
But he spreads his hand out, his fingers moving over me, rolling and flicking a specific spot that makes stars burst in my eyes.
“You like me playing with your clit,” he observes. “Look at me. Watch me, prey.”
When I stare at him dazedly, he leans down, and I try to pull away from the overload of sensation as his mouth seals over me, licking and circling until the clawing changes into fireworks and my back bows off the bed.
Something releases inside me, a burst of fireworks that shatter as I scream.
Enzo keeps going even after I beg him to stop, my breath rasping out of my lungs in hoarse pants as he plays with me until my panting changes to a broken sob.
“Please,” I cry. “Enough. For now.”
When Enzo pulls back, his face is damp, the dark curls everywhere as he stands and moves closer to me. His lips hover over mine. “Maybe I’ll carry on,” he whispers against my mouth. “You taste like my own personal hell, little prey.”
Sudden embarrassment heats my cheeks. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Instead of answering, he presses his mouth against mine, his tongue sweeping inside and tangling with mine as he pushes my taste onto me. There’s a hint of sweetness and something almost musky about it, and I’m not sure which part is me and which is him.
Enzo’s breathing is almost as harsh as mine when he pulls back, and we stare at each other in silence. I’m bare from the waist down, Ryder’s shirt rucked up, hair trailing everywhere, and the look in his eyes as they slowly look me up and down makes my breath catch.
“Ours,” he growls. “Don’t forget.”
I shake my head as a voice calls out from behind me.
“Princess, I think we should – what the fuck?”