53. Briella
Briella
“GIVE ME MORE, YOU CRAZY SOCIOPATHIC SONOFA—”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Make Hate To Me”
“Cannibal”
“JesusMaryandJoseph!” I cry out, hoarse from all the screaming and screeching as I grip Rory’s neck, urging him on more.
We started on the floor. Then, he turned me over on the bed, spanked me over and over until I howled for him to put it in me. He fucked me on the bed, against the cabin wall inside, then outside.
Now, we’re in the butcher shop. My ass on the cold, hard counter.
Hard, weathered wood. His blades hang from the ceiling, swinging behind him.
More knives, hooks, and cleavers line the walls with a couple of animal carcasses.
The metallic scent of blood in the air. Blood stains all around me. Rot and ruin.
It’s filthy. It’s disgusting. Raw and primal.
And I don’t give a fuck. Just as long as he doesn’t stop.
For fuck’s sake, he’s got unending stamina. And I begged for it. I practically gagged for it.
His mouth attacks mine again as he fucks me like a dog. No, like a wolf. A hungry, ravenous wolf with its jaws around me.
And I’m his she-wolf in heat.
“Give me more, you crazy sociopathic sonofa—”
He pulls all the way out, slams back in, and I choke on a scream. Then attack him, screaming and laughing like a savage, gripping his half ear.
His mouth crushes mine. His growl resonates in my throat and surges in vibrating waves into my chest. He doesn’t stop kissing me, but he seizes my wrist, the hand on his ear, and shoves it against the window behind me.
He slaps my breasts in retaliation, twisting my nipples—power-fucking me the whole time.
It’s angry sex. Passionate sex. And a hot, wild, messy mix of hate and love, fire and storm.
He’s pounded my pussy so raw, it feels like soaked flames stoking my flesh. Stretching me beyond every limitation, every way I can fathom. But the pressure throbbing inside me. All it takes is one grinding thrust for him to send me over the edge again.
Every time I orgasm, I die a little. Hate him for how good it is. And punish him for it. I swing my fist against his jaw before biting his mouth.
His teeth marks cover my throat and breasts.
And of course, the kinky bastard has toys in his butcher shop. A lot of toys. First, he clamps my nipples, the metal biting and vibrating the sensitive buds.
“You fuckingmotherfucker!” I screech when he grinds the vibrating cock ring against my swollen, hypersensitive clit. “Hurts so damn good!” I moan, then gasp and heave from another orgasm ripping through me, resonating in my pussy, rippling from my tits.
It’s impossible. You’d think the sheer number of times I’ve climaxed should have sent me into cardiac arrest. “Ohgodohfuck!” I slap and claw at his face while rocking and riding out my pleasure on his ungodly beast. I grip his ass with my other hand, digging my nails into the rock-hard muscles, marking him because he’s mine.
This fucking, infuriating, god-forsaken, damned sociopath, who wields his huge length like a goddamn cleaver, is mine. They’re all mine. But he’s the first to say it, to prove it. God, his muscles are non-ending. He flexes beneath my hand. Such power in them all.
Mouths crashing and mauling, sweat-soaked bodies slapping, he hammers into me, snapping, spiraling with me. He comes out and looks down at his cum spilling out of me before lifting his head, setting that carnal gaze on me. Heat radiates through me again, and I reach for him.
He pulls back with that wicked mouth, and I glare, clenching my hand around too much air. “Ye got severe intimacy issues, ye know that, Firecracker?” One of the blades swings in front of him, symbolically splitting his face in half, making him seem even more monstrous.
I sit up straighter and snarl, “You’re my biggest issue, Red. And the space between us.”
He peels back curls from my face. “Ye want me so bad, don’t you, my lovely Lass?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I want your dick. You just happen to be attached to it.”
He snaps, growls, and moves in. Adrenaline spikes my blood, thrilling me as he notches that beast against my slit and spears me to the hilt. I lurch, falling over his sweaty shoulder as he grips my ass and thunders into me, beating every inflamed bit of my pussy.
“Wanna know how many times I imagined ye strung up on one of my hooks in here? Strip ye down. Rearrange your insides just like one of Raph’s kills.”
“You already did that, you bloody Scottish moron!” I rake my nails against his already scarred back.
“And I’ll do it again. I’ll rearrange yer insides until they spell my fecking name!”
“Oh, God, God, yes!” I scream when he picks me up and dumps me right onto that counter on my back.
The clamps vibrate more, ripping through all my nerve endings.
The scent of raw meat thickens the air, but I’m only interested in his meat right now. Never thought I’d be reduced to this. But I’m just feeding on the high. And it’s the best, brightest high I’ve chased since Raphael fucked me on the kitchen floor with the broken glass cutting into my skin.
No, not even that could compare. Too different.
This is just lust, fiery, animalistic. It’s not some soul bond.
Rory and I? We’re drunk on each other. Body, mind, and heart. Blood and skin and flesh.
“I’m gonna fuck you until ye can’t walk, woman.”
I huff. “I already can’t walk, you big dumb, redheaded neanderthal.” I smack his head.
“Then, I’ll be fucking ye until ye be bow-legged, Firecracker.”
Hovering over me, he crouches, then stabs me with his blade.
His greedy mouth finds my breast. He removes the clamp and draws hard on the nipple, then removes the other.
My pussy quivers, squeezing so tight around him, he groans on my breast and sucks harder, snapping the nipple, slapping my other tit before groping both, kneading them and digging his fingers in, pinching the sore, inflamed buds.
The paradox of pain and pleasure, endorphins and adrenaline, keeps me on the edge every second, just waiting for him to hurl me over.
He comes out, and I groan in protest. Until he buries his head in my pussy. “Oh, you bloodyfucking asshole. Rory!” I buck, rocking my hips as he lays siege to my lips, licking my distended clit and dragging his tongue against the engorged flesh.
“Love eating your hot, sexy asshole, Firecracker.” He spreads my cheeks.
I grip his hair, unable to help but buck and roll my hips. He’s a goddamn sadist, flicking my ring, tonguing it, and giving the outer flesh little, expert nips. I tighten my grip on his hair, holding him, but he doesn’t let me get the upper hand.
“You goddamn shitheahhh!” I scream from him jamming a sudden vibrating wand against my clit.
When his tongue plunges inside my center, and he rubs that vibrator in torturous circles, I lose it again. Screaming and screeching from the orgasm and—
Oh, shit! Some dam breaks inside me. Something erupts.
He seals his mouth over my pussy, lapping and catching my stream. “That’s my sweet Lass, squirting for her Red.”
“Fuck you!” I spit out.
“If ye insist…”
“Get the fuck inside me, you boneheaded bastar—ahhh!”
He’s impaled me. His shaft is like some enormous sword handle just pounding and goring my starved pussy, that infernal ring vibrating against my pulsing clit until we both snap again.
I twist my hips beneath him. He jerks wildly, his monster holding me here, tormenting me. He buries his face in my throat, teeth sinking. I’m feral, spanking my hips against the table as I convulse, shaking and shuddering, screaming shriller and louder than ever.
The fucker grinds that ring against my clit again while he throws his head back with a demonic, guttural sound coming from his chest.
A shine catches my eye. No better time than now—when he’s least expecting it.
With my pussy still gripping and pulsing all around him, the ring making the orgasm go on and on, I grab the nearest cleaver and push it up against his throat.
He freezes mid-spill, mid-cum, but he leers, getting off more on my threat. My breath hitches when he leans down ever so slightly in a dare.
And of course!—in that moment, the door slams open, the icy air bursting in as the four others storm into the butcher shed.
“Fucking hell, Rory!”
“Get the fuck off—”
“Briella!”
All their voices, except for Raphael’s, overlap.
Rory doesn’t break his hold, those sinful indigo eyes gleaming on mine in the soft lantern light. And just as the other three start to lunge, I shout at the top of my lungs, “STOP!”
They freeze. I barely notice their hulking shadows. All I can feel is the brute force still lodged in me and the cold flint of the metal I’ve trained on my Red’s throat.
My? Ugh. Jesus fucking Christ.
When Seth tests with another step forward, I screech, “Seth, I swear to fucking god, I will hide every damn axe you have if you don’t get your ass behind the yellow line!”
Defensive hands raised, he backs up. I can feel their gazes on us, on me, staring dead-center targets.
Rory tilts his head, causing the knife to cut a threadbare line in his neck. He winks. “Do yer worst, mi’Lass.” And then…oh, that sick, twisted bastard mouths the words all over again.
“You listen to me and listen well, Red.” I shake my head in disbelief. Then, I burn my eyes on his again and finish, “God, I love your huge, hot Scottish cock inside me. But if you ever try and take my ass again, I will shove this goddamn cleaver right up your big dumb Scottish ass!”
“Deal.”
I lower the blade. He seals the promise with a powerful kiss, then takes the cleaver from my hand. With one snap of his wrist, he throws it so it embeds right in the opposite wall. I roll my eyes. Clench around him again.
He comes out only to jump down from the counter before gathering me up and bringing me down on his beast again. I grip his shoulders and squeeze my thighs around his waist as he carries me to the open door.
The others are shell-shocked. Their brains are short-circuiting.