Chapter 4
REMI
He’s… dead.
Trevor is dead.
They’re all dead.
They were going to pass me around… and now the only thing they’re going to pass is to the other side.
I…
A giggle erupts from my throat, catching instantly on a sob. That isn’t funny. None of this is, but I can’t help the laughter when it comes out again. It strangles me with a little hiccupy sob while I try not to break down into hysterics.
I can’t catch my breath, I can’t think. My entire body is a strange mixture of warm and numb all at once because I’ve never seen anyone so…
Efficient. Or effective. Or terrifying.
The man who broke in was like some kind of avenging angel with his tousled blond hair and his high cheekbones splattered with blood.
Horrifying.
I giggle again and finally force myself to look away from the bodies. I won’t be able to do anything if I keep staring… and if I don’t want to become a body… fuck.
I have to do something, right?
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight… or…
Apparently, fight or flight aren’t the only two natural responses to danger.
Fight, flight, or fuck.
I silently add the third option to the list.
Since I’m not about to fight a man who is seriously a slasher right out of a horror movie, and he’s standing right in front of me and making it impossible to run…
Well…
There’s really only one option left, isn’t there?
I smooth my hands up his thighs slowly, my entire body shivering at the feel of blood and the warmth of his body beneath the denim. This is going to work or I’m going to make him so mad he kills me quickly. Either sounds better than what he could do to me…
Honestly…
Both sound better than what he saved me from.
He saved me, even if that wasn’t why he stormed into the cabin. I have a feeling he did that for himself.
It doesn’t change the fact that he did it.
I kind of owe him, don’t I?
“It’s going to be a long storm,” I murmur in a soft, shaking voice, looking up at him through my curls.
“It’s going to get really cold. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have some warm company and not just…
” I can’t make myself look around at the massacre he left behind or I’ll lose my nerve, so I lean in and nuzzle against his thigh instead. “This mess?”
He smells… warm. Maybe a little like copper from the blood, but… there’s something underneath it, like an undercurrent of spices that makes my brain go fuzzy. I blink through the sensation, trying to focus.
I can do this.
I can definitely prove that I’m worth keeping around, because I have a feeling he’s going to kill me if I don’t do something.
I’m a witness, after all.
I…
“You think you’re making it out of here alive?” His voice is smooth when he says it, though, and he doesn’t stop me or push me away. In fact, his hand lands on the top of my head, and I feel him twist one of my curls curiously between his fingers.
Maybe not, but you aren’t killing me right now, are you?
I’m not stupid enough to say it out loud, but I am hopeful if I can show him I’m useful and worth keeping around… well… maybe I can get him to keep me long enough for me to get away.
If he’s anything like Trevor, he’ll pass out after I’m finished—Trevor usually did without bothering to return the favor—and I can do the same thing I did then. Sneak out.
Only… I’ll have to sneak out into the snow and hope I can find my way back to town instead of into the living room of my apartment.
It’s a really… really stupid plan.
It’s probably the worst plan I’ve ever had in my life.
I still reach up and unfasten his jeans, dragging them down his hips so his cock springs free in front of my face.
I keep my eyes focused on him. He’s already half hard, and I don’t know if it’s from having someone on their knees for him or the absolute slaughter he just did, but it’s at least a positive response.
I think.
Either that or he’s turned on because he knows he’s going to kill me.
I try not to think of that as I loll my tongue out, running the tip along the base of his shaft in a slow line that lets me taste him.
He’s warm, a little salty—probably from the sweat he worked up swinging that ax—and honestly, as I lift my head and carefully wrap my lips around the head of his cock, I realize…
He doesn’t taste bad at all. My eyes roll up… up to see his face, and the way his eyes almost glow like embers in the candlelight… up further, to see that I’m still under the stupid mistletoe the assholes hung up earlier.
This isn’t the kind of kiss I was expecting here. And then he flexes his hips forward, and my mouth is flooded with the feel of him heavy and demanding on my tongue.
“Fuck, yes. So fucking pretty.” Warm fingers trail through my hair, blunt nails scratching against my scalp.
He tugs at the strands, not rough like Trevor would, but in an almost teasing way.
I whimper around him, trying to take him deeper.
“Such pretty fucking noises while you deep throat me.” My savior flexes his hips and I gag, his cockhead hitting my tonsils.
“Fuck, you like choking on my dick, don’t you?
Like having my cock down your throat until you can’t breathe. ”
My cheeks flush with his words. There’s something…
almost… arousing about the fact that I’m on my knees for someone who just killed an entire room of people, for someone who might kill me when I’m done.
I shift uncomfortably on the floor, coming up on my knees so I can drape one hand over his hip.
The other is clenched at my side, fingers opening and closing in time with the way I dip my head down his length.
I’m slow at first, taking him in and letting my tongue flatten and drag along the underside of his cock so I can memorize how that thick vein feels. The heavy weight of it is a reminder that my life is literally depending on this blow job.
Being slow and deliberate probably isn’t the way to save myself… and I’ve actually given enough head in my life that I’ve learned guys like it when you’re sloppy.
My brain thinks he was pretty sloppy with all the blood everywhere, and I have to fight back another one of those giggles so I don’t choke on his dick again when I take him all the way to the back of my throat.
My nose buries itself against his pelvis so the warm, spicy scent of him floods my nose as I gag around him.
“You’re a fucking pro, huh?” His fingers trail through my hair again, and I force myself to keep him at the back of my throat until my eyes blur and tears catch in my lashes before falling.
The warmth of his thumb swipes my cheek, coming away wet as I blink my vision clear.
“I can taste your fear, Hummingbird. It’s sweet.
” His hand goes under my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“Are you afraid? Does that fear make your dick hard? Make your hole flutter, wanting a killer inside you?”
Oh, fucking shit. I’ve had fantasies from some of the books I’ve read, but I never actually thought anything like this could happen to me. I can’t think of it now either—I have to remind myself that I’m hungry to live. That I’m doing this to keep myself alive.
I groan and take him to the back of my throat again, not caring that I’m making little gagging sounds.
My lungs feel like they’re on fire and I can’t draw a deep enough breath…
but maybe that’s okay too. Maybe it would be better to die with the feel of his thick cock on my tongue than from whatever he has planned for me.
Maybe it would actually be kind of nice.
I roll my eyes up to him again as his fingers smooth through my curls, pulling the hair from my face so he can see the way my lashes are sticking together, wet with tears. I can only half make out his face. He’s so blurry above me, haloed in the firelight and…
Oh, oh fuck. I’m liking this.
I’m liking this more than I should, and I don’t know if I can explain it away as simple survival instincts trying to keep me alive, or if some part of my brain is broken.
Maybe that’s it—maybe that’s why I’d stayed with someone as shitty as Trevor, who treated me worse during sex than a man who killed an entire room of people.
Maybe it’s all those books I have on my kindle about guys falling in love with serial killers.
Whatever it is, I let out another low moan and feel it vibrate all the way down to my toes. My fingers open and close again on my thigh, nails digging into my pants in an attempt to ground myself.
I can’t, though. The only thing I can feel is his cock spilling down my throat, over and over again, until I’m pretty sure I’m going to be hoarse.
Maybe he won’t want to kill me if I can’t scream?
The only thing I can feel is the weight of him above me, and the feel of his fingers twisting in my hair and guiding me down the length of his dick.
He’s flexing his hips now, driving himself at the pace I set to the back of my throat.
It’s brutal, but he keeps his hand tangled in my hair so my head doesn’t snap back with the thrusts.
He holds me steady as he fucks my mouth like I’m just here to help him get off after working out his tension with an ax.
It’s…
Fuck, I kind of feel like I’m floating. I’m not sure if I’m having an out-of-body experience, or if the stress of what just happened is finally getting to me and I’m snapping…
but I feel myself completely give over to what’s happening.
My head tilts back even more and I drop my jaw, opening myself to him completely.
If I’m going to die, this is an okay way to go.
If I’m going to die, at least the person who plans on killing me is currently looking down at me with eyes that blaze like fire and an expression to match—that look is burning right through me.
It’s burning me alive.
And I could drift in it and just let go.
Better than the snow outside. Better than freezing.
Better than the last few years I’ve spent with Trevor making sure I know exactly what a piece of shit he thinks I am.
My hand on his hip spasms, my slender arm sliding around him to pull him closer, urging him on. I can do this.
I can still do this.
I can follow my plan… the plan…
Whatever the fuck the plan was, and I’ll remember it as soon as he stops cutting off the oxygen to my brain with the way he’s thrusting down my throat like he wants to fuck straight through me.
His hips pick up, and I can hear the way his breath chases the rhythm he’s setting in soft, growling pants.
The hand that isn’t in my hair drops, wrapping around my neck and giving a gentle squeeze like he’s trying to feel himself there. “Swallow every fucking drop. I want to feel my load sliding down your throat.”
His fingers in my hair spasm, tangle, yank me flush against him so my nose is buried against his pelvis again, and I can’t even taste it when the first splash of heat hits. There’s a moment where I think he is going to kill me like this, that he’s going to suffocate me.
I don’t even fight it. I just groan low in my chest and swallow the best I can around his length until he finally pulls back so I can breathe.
The space lets me bob my head again, sucking him through the rest of his orgasm.
I can taste it now, bitter and salty on my tongue, flooding my mouth with the flavor of him.
I catch what I can, letting the rest dribble across my lips to join the saliva soaking my chin.
I’m an absolute mess and I know it as I pull back, drifting my hazy gaze up to him as I stick my tongue out so he can see the cum pooled there.
I close my mouth and make a show of swallowing, enraptured by the way he watches me obey his command.
I had a plan, right? I was supposed to give him such a good orgasm that he’d forget about killing me… I was supposed to wait until he fell asleep and sneak out.
I was supposed to do a lot of things… but I’m suddenly very aware that the room smells like blood and my lips and throat are aching from the way he fucked my mouth.
The snow is falling outside in sheets of white so thick I can’t even make out the trees…
and I’m pretty sure I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my entire life from giving a killer head.
No. Absolutely not. That’s not why I’m turned on. It’s all panic and nerves. It doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with the way he looks with flushed cheeks in the firelight.
This wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t part of the plan at all.