Chapter 23
MERCILESS MONSTER
I groan and think about grabbing his head and shoving him onto me. Instead, I shut my eyes and try not to clasp my thighs around him like a boa constrictor. He’s already nipped me there for doing that, the evil bastard.
Being teased is…agonizing but nice.
He fingerfucks me slow and swipes his tongue around then swiftly over my clit. I squeak and try to move away. There? No! It’s too sensitive.
“Have you got any toys?” he asks.
Panting, I fumble for an answer, but I’ve lost my train of thought, tossed it into in some chasm. “What?” The word comes out rough, raspy. I rub my ass on the bed in a small circle. His tongue does similar. If he doesn’t find the right spot on my clit again… “What?”
“Sex toys. I want one to stick in you, while I suck on you until you come.”
“Ugh. Stop saying that while you’re doing that.”
He chuckles, starts applying himself properly to the job of stimulating my clit. Flicks me and I jump. Then, “Do you?”
“Nnnngh.” I’m making stupid noises. “No! Just fuck me. Please?”
Lucky I don’t have a job to go to, because I’d be sooo late.
“We will go shopping for some, after.”
“After?” I raise my head to scowl at him.
“Yes.” Then he ducks his head, and I huff and swear softly.
Over the next five, ten, fifteen minutes I venture so close to coming that I’m sweating and have probably sprained muscles, am ready to do anything to him to get him to let me come. My thighs ache, and the sheet under my butt is damp.
Then he pushes in those fingers and hunches his back and starts tonguing me ferociously until, until…I swear I see blackness. I guess my eyes are shut and I’m so near to—
He stops, and I slam my eyes open at which point he pulls on me and slides me down the bed until he’s sitting on me with his knees to either side of my chest.
“I was going to fuck you with a toy in your ass, but since you were bad—”
“Bad?” I’m confused.
“—and had nothing for me to use. It’s this instead. Open that pretty mouth so I can fuck it.”
“I…” I’m opening but protesting. “You promised.”
“I did say I’d be inside you. This is that. Inside your mouth.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire? Nope. He’d probably bite me, somewhere. Somewhere new. Or spank me. Oh god, to that thought too. I lick my mouth, thinking of it happening.
He moves further up my body, pinning my arms beneath him, and takes a handful of my hair in his fist. The soft head of his cock touches my lips.
The line where it was sutured onto him shows in stark contrast to the nearby skin.
“Besides, I love seeing you all red-faced and whimpering. Needy as fuck. Wanting to be fucked by me.”
He leans in to kiss my mouth instead. “You can come later, once I have that toy.”
That deadly smile of his is like an arrow to my heart, and lower down, too. The good kind of arrow.
“Now open.”
Then he readjusts, presses his cock at me, slides between my mostly open teeth and over my tongue.
The forceful hold on my hair somehow makes me want this more than ever.
It mixes with his dirty promises, makes my gasps, the panting, the grunts as he fucks me turn the inside of my mind red with suppressed lust. I draw up my heels, bucking upward when I almost choke.
His weight holds me down, my inner thighs are slippery, and I splutter when he pushes too far, but the ache from my pussy connects to this taboo-ish act of compelled face-fucking.
This is definitely not just a blow job.
I didn’t quite say yes.
And yet…and yet…
I want him. I want this. I can’t take him deep without choking, but he’s obviously happy with how deep he can go.
His thrusts grow faster. The hold on my hair tightens, and I open wider, drool escaping around my lips.
Grunts burst from him. He curses and stares at me more intently than before, at where his cock is stuck in my mouth.
With another three determined thrusts, where my teeth scrape on his length, and then he’s coming, jetting in squirts into my mouth, filling it until he hunches then pulls out.
Come spills and dribbles down the side of my face.
I swallow, once, amazed the taste isn’t any different from most men.
He falls onto the bed at my side, onto his back, bouncing the mattress.
I wedge my hand between my thighs, thinking about masturbating myself to climax, until he notices and grins, shakes his head.
“No?”
“Not until I have that toy.”
Fuck. I hope Revenant still has a sex shop. Online won’t be fast enough. I pout and tuck myself into his side, and he sneaks his arm under me to pull me closer to him. This monster’s body heat, he’s definitely hotter than normal.
Going to have to wash these sheets but two lots of smutastic sex means it was warranted anyway…even if I didn’t get to climax.
My hand slides wetly from where I hid it. I’m so so horny and wondering if the throb from my pussy is audible. I let my hand flop onto him, graze it over and down the nearest line of scars with my fingertips bobbing over the lumpiest ones.
And that his cock has stitches and was sewn on? That I have this monster fucking me? I’m okay with this. I’m far, far more than okay. It’s some kind of surreal yet sweet kink I’ve found. All mine. A whole new kink.
I turn over until my nose bumps into the side of his chest, close my eyes, and inhale the scent of him. The comfort of his body makes me drift.
My usual thoughts wander by. I’m crazy to want him. I should be in mourning. He’s a killer.
But so am I. Am I though? I want to be.
My phone jangles as a text comes in.
I ignore it, heave in a slow breath. It gets annoyed and bleeps at me again.
“You might have to get that,” Kail says.
I grumble something. I’m not sure what.
He smacks at my ass. “Naughty. It might be important, considering.”
Considering his murders? He’s right. There are no flashing lights outside though. No sirens. How did we both sleep so soundly? For me, at least, I think it’s just him being here? And that he’s on my side. He’s like a guaranteed assault team all by himself.
Once I lever myself halfway to sitting, I lean in over him and kiss his mouth.
His eyes are spectacular, blue-rimmed pools and the face scars just enhance his mystique, his…
je ne sais quoi. My French is getting some use, finally.
“Mr. Picasso,” I whisper, kissing his mouth again. “This ass smacking has to stop.”
The sting from it is rather nice, though. I wiggle said ass and he grabs me there, squeezes.
“You’re sure?” Then he hauls me fully over him and delivers three more butt-jarring smacks while we keep kissing.
My eyeroll is accompanied by a smile when I slide off him and stretch my arm for the phone.
I thumb it open.
“It’s Ron and Molly.”
RON: Dear Hailey. Ron here. We know you’re home and have a friend over. Are you okay? Want to visit us before we go open the shop? Would like to see you.
A friend? I snort at that.
I’m happy, I realize, as if it’s an astounding thing. But it is. Since yesterday, the change in myself is ridiculously stupid. Who am I that I have swung from north to south, like one of those weathercock things?
Am I even allowed to be happy? It’s a thought.
It’s been a few seconds of this, me remonstrating with myself, and Kail has no clue.
I read the text on the screen, twice, three times, while I’m coming to a conclusion.
I am certain who murdered my father. It was Clay, and Dad is still dead, which will never be anything but awful. And maybe I am hellbent on revenge, but the answer is yes.
Yes, I am allowed to be happy.
I just hope I can make it stick.
“They say they know I’m home. I wonder how they do? You know, we should go say hi. I think they know you’re here, somehow. Or that I have”—I make air quotes— “someone here with me. They may think I have a lover over.” I lower myself backward onto him, angle my head back and eye him past my hair.
“Hailey, saying hi, when I’m me, it can be a problem. Are shotguns involved?”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll explain. Somehow.” I frown. “I’m sure I can.”
“Okay, but before we do that. You wanted honesty.”
“I do.”
“I took a photo, yesterday. It’s in that backpack. It’s one of yours that I found here. I’ll put it back when we get out of bed.”
“Mine? Or one of Dad’s?”
“Yours. From there.” He points and I spot the empty frame on my dresser.
“Oh. Of Kail, your namesake.” Yesterday is a whole century ago. “Why? Was it because he was called Kail like you?”
Did the name trigger something in him?
“I don’t know exactly. Yes, he has the same name. I remember very little of my past, who I was before they...made me,” as he says that he gestures toward the ceiling and seems lost. “Who was he, that Kail? I read the inscription, and it sounded as if he died young.”
Whoa. He doesn’t remember who he was originally?
“He did die very young. It was the saddest time. My mother died, then he did, doing something stupid. He jumped off the jetty in a prank and hit his head on a floating log below the waterline.” For a few seconds, saying that takes me back to the day.
The screams. The panic as we tried to save him.
The sirens as the paramedics came. I was already suffering through sad, gray days because of my mom.
I let out a long sigh. “Same school as me, well, Revenant only has one. I think he had a crush on me, but we were only friends.”
“I see. I am sorry I took that photo.”
“It must be difficult if you can’t remember your past. I haven’t looked at the photo for a while. There’s a copy on my phone somewhere.” In among thousands of others. I wave my hand vaguely at the surrounds. “Same as everything here. I should have another shower before we see the McCluskers.”
Ripening daylight shines through the paler material that surrounds the poppies on the bedroom curtains. I turn over onto my elbows and stomach so I can study my strange lover. My pack of aces. My wild card.
Honesty goes both ways.