Chapter Seven #2
He moves forward, shoulder smashing into my ribs and pain rips down my side as we crash into a rusted rack, tools spilling and clanging to the floor. He tries to pin me, fists hammering, rage turning him sloppy. I take advantage and snake my arms around his throat.
He jerks, snarls, thrashes in my grip, but I keep it locked, forearm crushing his windpipe.
His fucking elbow drives into my ribs. White-hot pain flares.
I grit through it, lift him off his feet, and slam us both to the ground.
I land on top, straddling him, my fists pounding until bone cracks under my knuckles.
My chest heaves, my busted lip throbs, and my hands shake with adrenaline, but I’ve still got enough control to end this. I notice a crowbar within reach, I grab it. He sees it too, his eyes go wide, breath hitching. “No—wait—”
The fuck I will.
I swing.
The crowbar meets bone with a sickening crack. Once. Twice. The sound vibrates up my arm, and his head snaps back then slumps forward. His body folding as the fight drains out of him, he gives another breath, and then nothing.
I straighten slowly, shoulders burning, breath ragged, sweat soaking into my shirt until the fabric clings to my skin. The crowbar slips from my hand and clatters onto the concrete beside what’s left of Bram.
He’s not the first man I’ve killed, but he is the first I killed for her.
That makes it holy.
Tamsin stands in the corner, chest heaving, eyes locked on me as if nothing else exists.
“Wow,” she says, almost laughing. “That was a little too much, don’t you think?”
She moves through the mess with unhurried steps, sauntering to a box and pulling out a cloth.
“You cut balls,” I remind her.
The blood from my gloves smears into the fabric as I wipe them. She steps in, close enough that her heat seeps into me, and wraps her fingers around my hand, tugging me toward the next room.
“Tamsin,” I whisper, rough, dangerous, trying to control the edge.
She stops and I watch her hands go to my belt. I freeze, every muscle locks tight, breath catching in my throat. She’s insane and I’m hard enough to ache.
I catch her wrists, spin her, and pin her against the wall—right beside a cracked, gothic-framed mirror that rattles from the impact. “You’re horny because I killed a man?” I murmur against her ear, mask brushing her skin and blood still clings to the fabric between us.
She nods once. “You protected me.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth as I press my covered lips to her neck, shoving her harder against the wall. She grinds her ass into me. The sensation like a challenge I can feel in my bones. My hand slides up, fingers curling around her throat, squeezing.
“You don’t have to fuck me for it.”
Her laugh’s raw, wrecked. “I want to fuck you because that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her body moves against mine, a rhythm that spikes my pulse. This woman will get me fucking killed.
I let her go, grab an old sheet from the floor, and tear a strip off. She watches me, chest rising fast, mouth curving as if she already knows exactly where my head is.
“Again?” she teases, eyes glinting.
“I’m making sure you don’t take off my mask, hellcat.”
I bind her wrists behind her, turn her toward the mirror, and step in close, towering over her reflection. My hands clamp on her hips, thumbs digging deep into the soft give of her flesh.
“You stay still. Eyes on the mirror. If you look away, I stop.”
She nods, biting her lip in a silent promise. I can see it in her eyes, she won’t obey.
I circle her slowly, the air between us humming with heat. Dropping to my knees, my mask grazes her skin as I tug her jeans down, her hips lifting in that small, instinctive surrender. She steps out, one foot, then the other.
“Will you tell me your name?” she whispers. “So I can scream it when I come.”
A low, dark laugh rumbles out of me. “Nice try.”
Her huff is pure frustration, almost a growl.
“Now…” I slide her panties down her thighs, letting the fabric trail over her knees, her ankles. “Eyes on the mirror.”
Her gaze stays locked forward and I look up at her from my knees, fuck, I want to rip the mask off, just for a heartbeat.
Instead, I lift it just enough to bare my mouth. My fingers part her cunt, slick and hot, and I drag my tongue over her clit. She moans, eyes dropping to mine.
I stop.
“Eyes on the fucking mirror, or I won’t let you come.”
The words tear out of me like I’m barely keeping the leash on.
I want to be inside her so badly it’s a physical ache, a pulse that starts in my cock and burns through my veins.
Blood from the cut on my lip trickles under the mask, warm against my mouth before it drips lower, mixing with the slick between her thighs.
The taste—fuck—the taste turns my head to static.
She obeys, finally, gaze locked on her own reflection. Her skin’s flushed, trembling, goosebumps chasing the lines of her body.
I spread her open and drag my tongue deep, sucking her clit until her voice breaks the silence.
She’s leaning against the little burnt table now, wrists bound behind her back, fighting to keep herself upright.
I hook her leg over my shoulder and push in deeper, hungrier, until the only thing she can do is cling to the edge.
I glance up. She’s still obeying.
“See how beautiful you are when you obey?” I murmur into her heat.
“I hate you,” she moans.
“Yeah? Then why are you dripping for me, hellcat?” I clamp my mouth harder over her clit, pulling a sob out of her that makes my cock jerk.
“You’re sick,” she gasps, voice quaking, body shaking all over.
I strip one glove off, shove a finger inside her. Her walls clamp around me, hot and tight, and all I can think about is how much better it’ll feel when I finally fuck her open.
“I’m sick?” I grunt, pushing deeper, curling until she twitches. “You got wet after I killed a man for you.”
Her breath hitches and she doesn’t deny it.
“Tell me to stop,” I push, teeth grazing her. “Go on. Say it.”
She moans instead, curses under her breath. The perfect answer.
Her body starts to seize, the tremble in her thighs going stronger.
“That’s it. Come for me. Let me hear it.” I shove in a second finger, curl hard, suck her clit until she breaks—back bowing, head snapping back, a scream ripping out of her throat.
I hold her steady as the orgasm hits in crashing waves, her body going limp, breath ragged.
“Asshole,” she mutters, still trembling.
I rise, pull the mask down, my hand sliding up to her throat, holding her there while I stand over her.
“You want it?” I ask. “You want me inside you, Tamsin?”
She stares up at me, wrecked, eyes glassy.
“Yes,” she whispers.
The corner of my mouth pulls under the mask. “Good girl.”
I turn and walk out just as Beau and Caleb’s bikes rumble up outside.
“You’re leaving?” she snaps, scrambling for her jeans.
“Yes.” I dangle her panties in my hand. She curses, lunges, but I step back.
“Nope. These are mine now. You get them back when I fuck you.”
“Oh really?” She jabs a finger into my chest, that fury and mischief I crave lighting her up. “And when will that be?”
“That’s for me to know,” I say, dragging my thumb over her lip, “and you to find out. But I can’t wait to feel your cunt wrapped around me.”
The tiniest whimper escapes her before she shoves me. She storms toward the door still yanking her zipper up, only to pause when she sees the guys, all black and masked.
“Oh, wait, there’s more!” she throws over her shoulder. “What are you, the gothic Mickey Mouse Club?”
“Go home, Tamsin. We’ll handle this.”
She gives me a look that says she’s considering stabbing me, again. “Fine. Less work for me.” She snatches her bag, her useless knife, and storms out.
My cock’s still throbbing, furious. Two orgasms for her, and I’m still wound tight as a tripwire.
“Nice job. Very…” Caleb glances at Bram’s body. “Professional.”
I shrug. “You two took your time.”
“Traffic,” Beau says.
“On a fucking bike?” I glare.
“You need stitches again?” Beau asks, crouching beside Bram to check for vitals but with half his skull decorating the wall, we both know the answer.
“Can we just burn this place already?” Caleb flicks his lighter.
“That’s your answer for everything,” Beau mutters.
“Take the body out, then burn it,” I say, walking into the other room and picking up the mirror.
“Seriously?” Caleb barks out a laugh and Beau just shakes his head.
“I like it,” I lie.
What I really like is the reflection I saw in it when I looked back.
Her. Obeying me. Coming for me.
Now it’s the only thing I can think about.