Chapter 9
KILLA
A smirk encompasses my face as I use my knife to undo the latch, giving me access to her apartment.
Jesus, you’d think a young woman in this area would utilize all means possible to keep the bad guy out. This is so easy, it’s practically welcoming me inside.
A rush of excitement floods me at knowing what lies in wait.
I step inside, then slowly shut the door behind me, releasing it only when I hear the click of the latch.
The entire living space is in darkness, apart from the glow of a light beneath a door down the corridor, and I wonder if that’s the kid’s room.
Someone moving around has adrenaline forming inside me, expanding with each breath. Steadily, I sidestep into the shadows of the wall, using them like a cloak of darkness, and when another light switches on and the door opens, it illuminates the small apartment space.
My cock throbs at the realization she’s unaware of my intrusion as she heads toward the kitchen sink.
On her tiptoes, she reaches into the cupboard, and I watch in awe as her ass cheeks hang out of the scrap of fabric she wears as pajamas.
Unable to help myself, I move toward her, using the time she takes to fill a glass with water to creep up behind her.
Before she can open her mouth to speak, I clasp my thick hand over her mouth and pull her back against my chest. She struggles, but only briefly. It’s almost as if she knew I was there the entire time, and the notion delights me in ways it shouldn’t.
“Little Demon,” I rasp in her ear, and she shivers as she places the cup on the counter. “Are you going to play with me?” I must sound maniacal, and a sick part of me loves it. “I want answers.”
She freezes.
“Only you can give them to me.” I nuzzle into her neck and breathe in her familiar scent, the very same scent I’m becoming increasingly obsessed with.
This fixation with her, it’s not sane. Then again, everyone in the MC is certifiable one way or another.
I lick over the bite mark on her neck, and power infiltrates my bloodstream. Mine. She’s mine, however much I want to deny it.
My free hand travels over her taut stomach and up toward her heavy tits.
Jesus, she has a body for sinning, and I just so happen to be completely unholy.
At least until I’m finished with her.
It’s becoming harder and harder to remember why I’m here, especially when my cock aches to be inside her and my hands tighten to hold her in my embrace.
“I want answers, Little Demon,” I growl. “Tell me where my sister is.”
She attempts to shake her head, but the hold I have over her face makes it impossible. The muffled sound of her voice against my hand sends a surge of anger through me, and I spin her around so fast she stumbles against the corner of the counter.
“On your fuckin’ knees, Little Demon.”
Her mouth opens to protest, but after a quick scan of her surroundings, she drops to the floor.
My boots squeak on the linoleum as I step toward her and unbuckle my belt. “I should whip your ass,” I say, and her bottom lip wobbles. “Make it red, bloody, mark it with my brand.”
Her green eyes plead with me, and I like it—probably too much.
I snap my hand out and yank her head back by her hair, causing her to yelp. “I want to see my cum on your tongue. Do you understand me?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Don’t swallow a fuckin’ drop.”
Then I pull my cock from my jeans and pump it, delighting in the way her eyes fill with lust at each stroke. “Yeah, you want this, don’t you?” She rests her hands on her lap in a submissive position that has possession building inside me. “Kiss my tip, Little Demon, lick it nice and clean.”
I guide my thick length to her open mouth, and just as I commanded, her tongue darts out and swipes over my piercing, causing me to hiss through my teeth to remain in control.
Strings of pre-cum slide down her chin, and I push the tip of my cock into her mouth, allowing her to suck the engorged head.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
I continue pumping, my hips driving forward of their own accord.
Sweat coats my forehead. Pump after pump. Lick after lick.
“That’s it.”
My balls draw up.
“Open your mouth wide.”
Pleasure zips up my spine, and my orgasm slams into me at an astounding force. My cock releases, and I can barely keep my eyes from rolling at the sight of my thick white cum filling her mouth. “Jesus, yes.” I pump my hand. “Don’t swallow,” I grind out. “Don’t you fuckin’ swallow.”
Her mouth fills with my pleasure, and there’s something indescribable about the sight.
Domination.
Bliss.
Beauty.
I’m not sure, whatever it is, it’s controlling me, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
I reach inside my cut and pull out my phone, and before she has a chance to say anything, I take a photo of her. Her hair messy, white cum flooding her mouth, and my cock gleaming with the remnants of her spittle and my release.
Then I tuck my cock away while she remains still, almost vulnerable. I pull on her chin with my thumb, giving her no option but to open her mouth wider, and use my finger to scoop some cum from her tongue.
Slowly, while she remains transfixed, I write my name on her forehead, filling me with an overwhelming sense of ownership.
Our eyes lock, my heart throbs, and she releases a small whimper.
Her eyes soften as if she knows what I’ve written, and I hate that; I’d much rather see the same venom I feel reflecting back at me when I look at her.
Hating her is easier that way. So, rather than analyze the emotions of seeing my name on her body, and worse, the fact I wanted it there, I step back, disconnecting from her.
“Spit it out!” I demand.
She scans my face, and a crease forms on her forehead.
“Push my cum out of your mouth with your tongue.”
Slowly, she does as I asked, and it’s a fucking glorious sight. My cock twitches, and I swear I could go again, something that hasn’t been possible in a long while.
My cum dribbles down her chin, creating a mess on the floor, and when some splatters on my boot, a deep-seated need of dominance overtakes me.
She breathes heavily when her mouth is empty, but she remains rooted to the spot.
“Now, clean my boot.”
Her eyes flare, and she licks her lips.
Fuck me, she’s as hungry for this as I am.
With her eyes locked on mine, she plants her hands on the floor beside my boots, then leans forward, and I can’t help but hiss between my teeth as she makes a show of languorously swiping her tongue over my boot.
The tension in the room feels like we’re waiting for an explosion. Sure, the power dynamic between us is electric, and the thought of pushing her until her breaking point feels intoxicating. I’m just unsure how to reach that stage or if I truly want to.
Movement coming from the hallway has me stepping back like my ass is on fire, but what surprises me more is, she doesn’t. She remains on the floor, staring at me, waiting for my command, and I’m not sure I like it.
She stares back at me with panic in her eyes, yet makes no move to get up.
I clear my throat and turn my head away from her, using the opportunity to buckle up my belt.
“Get up and clean up. Your kid needs you.”
She gets to her feet, and I head out.
I have my hand on the latch when she calls out. “Killa?”
I still at the softness of her voice, but I’m unable to turn and face her. Not knowing if I’m going to like what I see.
“Thank you,” she whispers, confusing the hell out of me, and a ball of guilt forms in my stomach.
As I leave her apartment, her thanking me taunts my psyche.
I push the throttle of my bike harder.
She thanked me for stopping her humiliation.
I push harder.
Why the fuck couldn’t she have said she hated me?
People say there’s a fine line between love and hate, and I can tell the line between us is becoming blurry.
There’s no way I’d fall for my enemy.
None.