Chapter 18
REVELATIONS
While I’m trapped head down over his shoulder, I summon the courage to ask him questions.
“Do you think you could stop doing…that.”
“With you wriggling and humping my hand? No.”
“I’m not humping!”
The asshole stiffens his fingers and leaves them there.
He’s nearly wedged his fingertips into my entrance.
This scatters my thoughts to hell and back, though there is cloth in between.
I can’t help but squeeze my thighs onto his hand and that, regrettably, echoes into my clit. I exhale a stifled whimper.
“Admit you’re horny. Same as me.”
I huff, then half climb up his back by propping my arms on him, then give in and collapse back down.
I find another question. Talking hasn’t made him slow or miss a step. “Why did you tie me up, back there? Were you afraid I’d see something?”
“Yes. It wasn’t nice. Men dumped like they’re garbage.”
“Oh.”
“Also.” His stride falters and his voice roughens. “Because I wanted to.” He squeezes one ass cheek until I gasp at the pain. “I like fucking around with you.”
The pain hijacks my thoughts and heats me in ways I never imagined it could. I close my eyes to appreciate the disconnect from reality and the pulse of desire.
I fumble for a coherent reply and fail. “Huh.”
“Just huh?”
“Yes.”
He speeds up, jogging down the incline, going from rock to rock like this is a stroll on a boardwalk.
I rest my hand on his back, smoothing my palm over all those warm and wonderful moving muscles. Bumpy lines under his shirt tell me where he was stitched together.
Monster or man, I’m starting to wonder if the shell a soul is inside can make him different. It’s his actions that matter. Manners maketh man? I know that saying from somewhere.
I’ve never had a man want to do that—tie me up. It puts me at his mercy, allows him to do anything, maybe even hurt me like he did just now. Except the bites, the marks, the way he grabbed my ass, those were exciting.
A monster would have done things to me then left me for the bears, and he didn’t.
I wobble from it’s dangerous, to it’s hot, and end up with it’s not that sensible, considering what he is.
A frankenstruct. Yet how can I see him as someone terrible when my world has fallen apart, and he is helping me stay alive?
I am, strangely, (or stupidly?) curious enough to want to experiment.
It’s getting easier to forget he was created from bits of dead people. Okay, so he’s not a handsome prince in shiny armor, but I can’t ignore what he did for me today. Murdered. He murdered for me.
I’m going in circles.
And my clit is ready to explode because of how his shoulder is rubbing on me.
He doesn’t act like a monster, but if he doesn’t stop teasing me… I readjust my position which only makes it worse, and I gasp out a breath when he leaps onto a rock, jarring me.
“Fuck,” I whisper, sounding strangled. As a distraction, I blurt another question. “I think I need you to help me.”
“To come?”
I slap his back. “No!” But yes. Definitely positively yes.
He laughs.
Then I sober up, remembering what I was asking. “I want to find out who murdered my father.”
I lied there. I lied. Clay or his proxies did it. I want my revenge.
If I could see Clay dumped wherever those other pieces of garbage went, I would be happy.
“I will help you.”
“No ifs or buts?” I stare at his ass while I wait for his answer. He simply runs and runs, machinelike, and doesn’t seem to tire.
“One.” That sounds ominous. “One if. I get to have you.”
“Have…” I squeak out. “Meaning?” It’s obvious but I have to ask.
He halts, half-turns his head to speak. “To fuck. To bed. To do that whenever and however I want to. Give me that, and I will destroy your enemies. I need you, Hailey. I always have.”
“Always?” That word seems wrong. “Oh. My. This isn’t Armageddon. You want to put me down so we can talk properly? None of what you said is…” I struggle for the right word. “…normal.”
“Soon. I’ll put you down soon. Judging by the men that attacked you, you’re not up against some pansy outfit that will throw subpoenas at you. They’ll happily murder you. Say yes to my proposal, and I might be persuaded to do your laundry too.”
“That’s not a proposal! That’s—” Blackmail? Ridiculous? Tempting?
“Your answer?”
“I need to think on it.”
Seconds ago, I was rooting for some completely inappropriate fucking, considering the murders. What’s wrong with a temporary arrangement? What is wrong with me that I’m considering saying yes?
How do I answer this?
The clincher—he is giving me a choice.
“Will you be honest with me, in everything?”
“Yes.”
And yet I. Just lied. To him. The irony is so thick I could spread it on toast. Maybe I’m the monster. Because Kail won’t be just another card in my hand. Or in my bed. From what he’s done tonight, he could be like a whole bunch of aces. I don’t know poker, so my analogy probably sucks.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” He pats my butt.
Am I really contemplating a relationship with this frankenstruct? No. This is more like having a fuck buddy with warrior skills be my bodyguard.
Besides, we might be indicted for murder before the week is over.
At the next stop, when he lowers me to my feet I am flustered and surely blushing.
Stupidly, I dust off the seat of my pants, pretending dirt is caught there. We both know he’s been toying with me for ages. Thirty, forty minutes? I’ve lost track of time, but the cloth of my pants must be showing the wetness, and my panties feel shamefully squishy.
I sweep a strand of hair from my face. We stand at the edge of the forest, and the house is not far below. Revenant sprawls beyond the rooftops, speckled with a few lights.
He said he always needed me.
Always is a strange word from him. He was only recently created. Who is he really? What does he remember? I need to find that out. How does one discover the origins of a jigsaw man?
The answer comes out of the blue. DNA. Of course. I’ll get some samples and send them away, if we survive.
My life has come down to this. I must survive long enough to hurt the men who hurt me and mine. I mesh my fingers, steeple them beneath my nose as I look out over Revenant. There is my truth.
Whether to fuck Kail is therefore a minor issue. Enjoy what time is left. Live if I can. Defeating the whole cabal of billionaires who must be behind the institute and the production of frankenstructs will not be easy.
Ron and Molly have their rear porch light on, and my garage is leaking light through the side window. Did I switch that on when I hurried through? I can’t recall.
Kail goes behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, running them down my arms until he finds my hands which he caresses, finger after finger. This is surprisingly erotic, especially since I can feel the hardened length of him where he’s pressed against my rear.
I lean backward into his chest and clear my throat. Those big hands of his on mine, it’s some kind of heaven.
“Your answer?” he asks.
There it is. “I’ll say yes. For now.” Though I said that calmly, my thumping heartbeat betrays me.
“For now is good.” His grip on my wrists tightens.
Why do I feel as if I’ve stepped off a cliff? “I can walk from here.”
“I know. Just, I did promise myself I’d do this once we reached your home—carry you in.”
“Is this like…like a wedding?”
“Nope. Nothing like that. If you’d like to kiss my ring, though, just say.”
So, I grin and resign myself to being carried down to my house. After I clumsily fish the keys from the depths of my pocket, we enter through the rear door.
“Here we are. Your home.” He kicks shut the door.
“Woo-hoo! Thank god. We made it. If nothing else, I will never stop saying thank you.”
Mid-hallway, he sets me down, pulls his shirt over his head.
He discards it then matter-of-factly holds me against the wall by pinning a handful of my hair above my head.
His other hand lies between us, and he’s undoing my pants button, kissing me, then undoing my shirt buttons, one by one, until my shirt falls open.
He scoops down my bra cups and kisses each breast. My hunger rising, I watch greedily and touch him lightly, sometimes digging my nails into his muscles.
I’m fascinated by his mouth engulfing those intimate parts of me, and by his stitched body minus the drunken haze of our first night. The lights glide over his skin and his body is a surreal but impressive work of art.
With his teeth, he tugs on parts of my breasts then kisses my skin, my areola, before devotedly sucking each nipple. My butt squeezes into the wall as I stifle my groans.
My toes curl inside my shoes and I grab his shoulders. “Fuck me,” I gasp, whining a little. I’m ready to climb the wall, climb him, to impale myself on that erection I can visualize in detail, by the tenting of his pants.
“Shhh.” He fumbles with my zip.
I wriggle in his grasp and try to unzip his fly, but he bats away my hand.
From the momentary pause, and how he studies me, I can tell he’s daring me to touch it.
Like he must give permission. Even that excites me.
There’s a thrill to this rushed seduction—we’ve been on this road before, and I loved it.
For a moment, I remember what brought us to this—the assault outside. I don’t care. I don’t. Not now. Not yet. No one will be checking on them, tonight.
“I want to tie you up again.” He kisses my mouth as he unzips my pants and shoves them to my thighs. They hang there while he locks his gaze to mine, and the devilry in his eyes is swoonworthy.
“I think you’ve convinced me,” I murmur.
“Be good and I won’t have to punish you.”
“Punish?” His kisses were hard, my breasts sting, here and there, and that feels like the best kind of punishment.