Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Kolter
Ilook down at the motionless piece of shit before me—he’s soaking the bed and filling the room with that familiar scent of iron. Naomi is staring down at him in horror, shaking slightly. If I was a better person, I’d maybe care about traumatizing her like this.
Truth be told, I didn’t show up intent on killing someone.
I’ve been keeping tabs on her, and when I saw her walk into my club—alone at that—I knew I had to find out what she was up to.
It took just one conversation with one of my employees to find her, and when I discovered the door was already closed, anger like I’ve never felt before surged through me.
I didn’t think—I acted. Just like right the fuck now.
I shove the body to the floor. The blood from his entry wound starts seeping into the carpet, but he’s the least of my concerns right now.
I lift a blood-stained hand and squeeze Naomi’s cheeks together. “This is your fault,” I snarl. “You get that? His death—it’s on YOU.”
She blinks up at me a few times, almost like she doesn’t really see me, then shakes her head—as much as she can anyway.
“H-How? You’re the one who k-killed him.”
“No,” I grit, bringing my face to hers.
My nose presses against the bridge of hers as I speak, ensuring each syllable cuts like a knife.
“You let him in. You spread your legs. You were ready to hand over something that has always been—and will always be—mine.”
“What?” she asks breathlessly.
I’m fucking done talking, though.
I shove her onto her back and climb onto the bed, pushing her legs up until she’s fully exposed for me, then pull my cock out of my pants. It’s fucking pulsating at this point because… fuck, look at her. She’s perfect, even more perfect than I ever imagined.
“You’re so desperate to get rid of your virginity? Fine. Consider it gone.”
Without a second of hesitation or warning, I slam into her.
She lets out a pained cry that I can feel in my soul, but I close my eyes and grit my teeth, not allowing myself to feel it.
All I can focus on is her and… Jesus fucking Christ do I feel her.
I feel the moment I tear through her hymen; I feel the wetness of her pussy combined with her virgin blood.
It makes my cock throb inside her, and I push even deeper, until she’s practically crawling up the wall.
I draw back almost completely which I can tell gives her a small amount of relief as her bright eyes meet mine.
“Congratulations, Peaches—you’re no longer a goddamn virgin.”
With that, I begin thrusting. She screeches and gasps for air, limply pushing against me. It’s like her body wants me to stop, but something else inside her doesn’t. She never says no, never begs for me to stop. She just grunts and squirms like she’s working through the pain.
Gripping her hips in my hands, I pick up my speed, staring down at her and shaking my head. This is not how I pictured this, ever, and fucking trust me: I’ve pictured taking my sister’s virginity countless times. Goddamn, that sounds even more twisted than the reality of it.
I imagined her gifting me her virginity. A raw and intense moment just for the two of us, where we’d come together, and I’d show her all the ways I would love and care for her. It would be soft and gentle, everything she’d ever hoped.
Instead, here I am, violently fucking her in a sex club in a pool of her almost-hookup’s blood while his corpse cools on the floor beneath us.
It’s less than perfect; it’s not a moment to be shared by two lovers.
It fits, though. Those fantasies were for a different time, a different man.
One that I couldn’t afford to be, not even for her.
I hope she hates me after this. I hope she never wants to look me in the eyes again. It will make what comes next much easier.
But I know it won’t be that simple. My… temper has just made everything that much more complicated, and now she’s involved, whether I want her to be or not.
My orgasm begins to build, and selfishly I ride it out, giving not a single thought to her pleasure. It’s easier this way—it has to be like this. I lose myself in wave after wave of euphoria, my cum filling her cunt until I have nothing left to give.
No matter how desperately I want to collapse onto her, curl into this bed and begin atoning for all the wrongs I’ve done, including this one, I don’t. Instead, I blow out a short breath and push myself to my feet, pulling out of her without another second of hesitation.
She looks up at me, tears pouring down her face as I stare down at her before shifting my gaze to the body on the floor. Then I reach into my pants, fish out my phone, and make a call.
“Hey, it’s me. Bring a clean-up crew to the club. We’ve had an incident.”