Chapter 5
STREETER
Catching five bodies and getting some fire head in the same night? Not on my bingo card, that’s for sure.
The way the little hummingbird is looking at me—dazed and a little flushed—he wasn’t expecting it either.
I could leave him here like this, dick hard, cum down his throat, surrounded by bodies, but where’s the fun in that?
I’m supposed to be chopping him up to join his friends—well, with the way they were surrounding him, I think the term friends is subjective.
But I should be planning to send him to the afterlife, not…
Grabbing under his arms, I haul him off his feet. As if on instinct, Hummingbird wraps his legs around me, gasping as I pin him against the door. Glancing up, I grin, and meet his gaze. “Mistletoe.”
He stares at me with wide eyes before they roll up to the hanging plant.
“Yeah. It is.” When he looks back at me, I crush my lips to his.
He has such a pretty mouth, and he’s good at using it.
Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever met such a good fucking cock sucker.
My dick hasn’t deflated from just the memory of it.
Makes me wonder if his ass is just as good.
Hummingbird gasps before melting into the kiss, his tongue sliding tentatively into my mouth. He tastes like me, salty and heady.
His dick rubs along my belly, hard and seeking friction as he grinds against me.
Snatching my mouth away, I slide one of my hands to his throat and squeeze. He gasps again, his eyes blowing wide. “You want to be my company, Hummingbird? Keep me warm?” I ask. He looks confused, then his expression clears, probably remembering his earlier offer.
I knew what he was doing when he reached for my pants. He wants to stay alive, doesn’t want to end up like the trash littering the cabin floor. I planned to do it, too, but figured I could let him give me some mediocre head and then off him. A nut is a nut.
But his throat was so warm, so tight, and his tongue so fucking teasing. He was pliant, letting me fuck his face with barely a whimper. The way he looked at me when I was shoving my dick as far down his esophagus as it would go? Fucking perfection.
I want to see if his ass can take my dick just as well.
He swallows hard, a myriad of expressions crossing his face—fear, arousal, apprehension. He seems to make up his mind and settles on arousal, rolling his hips. “Yes, please?”
Threading my fingers through his lush curls, I pull him back to my mouth, my tongue dueling with his. I nip, bite, and suck at his lips, pulling whimpers from his throat. Fuck, he sounds sweet. Like he’s giving everything to me, showing me everything he has.
I want more.
Pulling my lips from his, I place my hands under his ass and turn away from the door, walking us to one of the bedrooms. I’m careful to watch where I’m going, what with all the bodies strewn about.
As hard as I am right now, slipping and falling in blood or stepping on an appendage would put a damper on the mood.
I kick open the door and maneuver us over to the bed.
Turning around, I sit, Hummingbird straddling my lap.
He still looks aroused beyond belief, but he’s also nervous, like he didn’t think I’d want more than a blow job.
While I like head, like most red-blooded men, I like to fuck more.
I like to hear the moans, the mewls, the begging, the screaming.
I can’t hear that with my dick down someone’s throat.
Smiling, though it’s probably a little sharp, I tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “You afraid of me, Hummingbird?”
“My name is Remi,” he whispers.
I shrug. “Yeah, but you’re also fast, quick on your feet. Like a hummingbird.” His eyes grow wide. My smile grows wider. “I think with my big head too, Remi. I know when someone is trying to play me. But you’re pretty, so I don’t mind.”
“What are you going to do to me?” he asks, biting his lower lip nervously.
“I’m going to finish what we started. Now strip. I want to watch you get naked for me.”
He scrambles off my lap, his face a mixture of bliss and confusion.
I’m sure he’s warring with himself, not wanting to fuck me and at the same time wanting nothing more than to have me inside him.
If he doesn’t want to, that’s fine with me.
He’s already given me the best head I’ve had in years—sorry, Camden—so I’ll figure out what to do with him if I don’t want to slit his throat.
But the way he rips his sweater over his head and drags his pants down around his ankles, his hard dick bobbing, I know he’s not only fucking me to stay alive. He wants it, and I don’t think he knows what that means.
Whatever. That’s not my problem. I want to sink my dick into him, so I will.
When he’s naked, I crook a finger at him, and with his head lowered, he walks back over to me. I grab his wrist and yank him toward me, lying back on the bed so he can blanket me with his smaller body.
I wrap one hand around his waist and plant the other hand on the back of his neck. “You really are pretty,” I whisper.
His cheeks turn pink and he dips his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. “Thanks. I’m… I think I’m nervous.”
“And scared,” I tease, though fear is coming off him in waves.
“No, it’s just—”
“You are,” I stress, scratching the hairs at the nape of his neck. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft sigh. “But I like you afraid of me.” I push my hips into his. “Turns me on.”
“You’re a weird killer,” he whispers.
“So I’ve been told.” I bring his lips down to mine, and Remi comes readily, opening for me immediately. He’s too afraid that I’ll stop what we’re doing. “You got lube?” I ask, kissing down his chin, sucking on his skin.
“Ummm… Trevor should have…” His voice trails off and he starts to tremble, but not from arousal. “He… probably brought some for…” His breathing comes out in pants, his eyes wide with fear and… something else.
“Hummingbird?” I ask, tipping my head to the side. “You good?”
“I’m… I don’t think… I can’t…” He squeezes his eyes shut, then slides off my body onto the floor. I sit up and see him rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his knees. One hand does a tap-tap-tapping on his legs in an uneven rhythm.
Shit, he’s having an anxiety attack. My ex had a few, and it took him a while to calm himself down if he didn’t have something to focus on. I’m not sure what works for Remi, but I can’t have him cracking up like this. I can’t kill someone so fucking helpless.
Sliding down in front of him, I grab both sides of his face and tilt it up to me. “Look at me, Remi.” His eyes dart around, tears filling the brown depths. His breathing is still choppy, his hand doing that tapping that seems to soothe him.
I jostle him a little, making his eyes flick over to me. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t… I’m not…”
Yeah, that won’t get us anywhere. He needs to get his mind off of what almost happened to him. I’m sure that’s where he went in his head. He was into what we were doing until I brought up lube and he said Trevor’s name. Real fear clouded his vision.
I wish I could kill that asshole douche all over again. I can only imagine what would have happened to Remi had I not heard that fucking Mariah song.
Pulling him to his feet, I sit him on the bed and slide his pants back on, then drag his sweater over his head. Remi is so deep in his panic attack that he barely helps, but that’s okay. His small frame makes it easy to maneuver him how I want without effort.
“Come on,” I say, pulling him to his feet and leading him out of the room.
“W-what?” He speaks slowly, as if coming out of a deep sleep.
I stop in front of Trevor, looking down at his ruined body. “Grab his legs, Hummingbird. We need to take him outside.”
“Huh?” Remi looks at me with rounded eyes, his face paling. “His legs?”
“Mhm. Don’t want the house to smell from the bodies.”
Remi stares at me openmouthed for a few beats, then bursts into laughter. He slaps a hand over his lips, but the melodic noise drifts past. His eyes are still wide, but they dance with mirth as he gazes at me.
I smile, hoping that carting bodies outside will pull his mind from his attempted rape. I want him to see that each and every man who tried to take something he didn’t freely give is fucking dead and will never hurt him again.
Bending down, I slide my hands under Trevor’s armpits and haul him up. Blood slowly oozes out of his wound and his head lolls forward. I have to rearrange his limbs to get a good grip on him, bits of fingers rolling away near my feet. Then I look up at Remi expectantly.
With another giggle, he says, “Let me grab my shoes. I don’t want blood on my bare feet.”