Chapter 46 Celia #2
We hadn’t broken eye contact this entire time, and I’d never wanted to be able to read someone’s mind more than in this exact moment.
I inched closer to him, and he raised his eyebrows up in warning.
I took one more step until I could place my head on his chest, the closest thing to an embrace that I could manage with my bound hands.
He cleared his throat and kept his arms pinned to his side uncomfortably.
“They will send the meetup location,” Archer said as he put his phone back into his pocket and walked our way, “If you want, I can take her myself. I’d love to get a chance to sample the merchandise before it goes on sale.
” He licked his lips and my stomach churned at the words but before I could express my disgust, my ear was ringing from the shot fired out next to my head.
“Why you gotta to say some shit like that, old man?” Santos yelled out with a groan as he put the gun back in his pants and Senior dropped to his knees, clutching his throat in his hand.
The blood was pooling through his fingers and coming out of his mouth as he choked to death from the hot metal lodged into his neck.
“An-o…” I said again, I stepped in front of him, and he turned his head to the side, away from me.
I placed my hands awkwardly on his chest, dropping my forehead to the hard muscles that coated his lean body.
My head moved harshly with his heavy breathing and before I realized it, my whole body was shaking from the tears that were pouring out of me.
“You don’t get to do that,” his voice cracked with the same anger that filled him the day he lost it in his room.
“It’s not enough you’ve got the both of them, but you wanna see if you can still keep stupid, needy Santos wrapped around your fingers too? ‘He’s such a good friend, he’ll always do anything for me.’” His tone was cold and bitter as he grabbed my hands off him and lifted them above my head.
He walked me backwards with a sneer carved on his lips until my back hit a concrete pillar. I winced in pain before looking down to see we were standing just over the dying Dezmond Archer Senior, his blood pooling around my slippers while it soaked into the faux pink fur.
I didn’t speak, it wouldn’t matter, It would just come out garbled against the fabric and it didn’t seem like my words would matter even if he understood them.
I was starting to see this pain for what it was, but how was I supposed to have known?
I never once stopped to ask myself what Santos meant to me, because it meant questioning what Ronan had been to me too.
But things were different now, and I knew my feelings for Mateo existed outside of my feelings for Ronan.
And Santos?
Well, all I knew was that I couldn’t fathom an existence without him either.
Maybe without any of them.
His nostrils flared as he slammed my wrists against the pillar, a painful groan escaped my lips and I looked up at him in shock.
“I don’t want to be your friend anymore, Morena.
You understand?” He spoke through clenched teeth, and I nodded even though terror was starting to creep its way back inside of me.
Dezmond made a gurgling noise as his body finally gave into the surrender of death, which seemed to annoy Santos even more.
He pulled his gun out again and shot him in the forehead for good measure.
He slid the barrel of the gun against the side of my arm with a tedious slowness, I bit through the bandana and winced from the heat of it against my skin. “Good,” he said.
“That’s what it feels like being around you, every second of every damn day.” His voice steadied, but this was a man drowning in pain.
No longer the carefree breeze my heart once knew, but the dark and dangerous miscreant he tried hiding away. He moved his weapon down, trailing it across my stomach and I hissed through the fabric around my mouth in anticipation.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, sliding the Glock down to my legs and trailing it up the inside of my thigh, the scorching heat tempered out to a dull warmth that awakened every nerve in my body to attention.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he growled out, slamming my wrists back again.
I cried out once more, less from the pain and more from the shock of his confession, and the things his words, his touch, were doing to me. His jaw set into that hard line while the mouth of the Glock rested at the apex of my thighs and a whimper freed itself from my lips.
He dragged the gun inside the opening of my pajama shorts, resting it just over my pussy, the anticipation was almost painful, and my heart thundered in my chest.
I rubbed my thighs together for friction, pushing the tip of the gun against my center to try to relieve this feeling. My whole body was starting to feel so uncomfortably hot I felt like I was going to explode if he didn’t do something, anything at all.
I wanted to reach out and touch him, grab him, but my hands were still pressed firmly against the pillar under his tight hold. The bandana was starting to soak from my saliva as I kept mumbling incoherently with desperate whines, unsure of what it was I really wanted to say.
Stop?
No.
“Le-ase…” I moaned through the wet fabric.
“Monsters like us, we’re drawn to each other. I could never understand why I couldn’t shake you from my head all these years.” He looked down at me, his expression still cold, and hard to see through. “You and I are made from the same sins. Born from the same wretchedness. We come from the wicked.”
“It’s the reason why you’re dripping all over my piece, instead of crying for help,” he whispered, and I moved my hips in frustration, grunting in disappointment from not being able to communicate what I needed from him.
I wanted him to do it.
Cross that line.
Change things forever.
Mateo and I created something out of nothing, that was easy to do. With Santos, we needed to destroy everything we knew if this was going to happen.
I needed this to happen.
And I could see in him that he needed it too.
He rubbed the tip of the Glock back and forth against my clit, coating it in my own juices as he breathed angrily, but didn’t dare look away from me. He wanted me to tell him to stop, that we shouldn’t do this, but those lies wouldn’t come from me.
I wanted everything that was owed to me now.
And that included him.
Blinking up at him, I stepped my feet apart, splashing through the sticky blood that now completely surrounded us. He let out a breath that sounded like hesitation, but by the time he inhaled again he forced the barrel inside of me.
“Nhm.” I moaned out at the intrusive object filling me up and he narrowed his gaze, studying me, like he really couldn’t believe what he was seeing even though he was the one wielding all the power here.
He was right.
We were mirror images of each other. Damaged, fucked up beyond salvation by the brutality our families bestowed onto the world.
He pulled the weapon out slowly just to slam it back in, forcing another muffled gasp out of me.
Nothing surprised me anymore, not the fact that I was getting off to a loaded weapon that had just been used to shoot the corpse I stood over.
And not the fact that it was Santos álvarez holding that same gun covered with my arousal.
He pulled it in and out of me, building a tension I desperately needed to release.
I encouraged him, bucking my hips and moaning in anticipation every time he drew it out of me.
I was close, and my mind was flying high, somewhere else entirely even if my eyes were still locked onto the beautiful, tortured creature who stood in front of me.
He pulled the gun out completely and stuffed it into his back pocket, moving his head side to side as he continued to study me.
I cried out a pathetic moan of defeat feeling the sudden emptiness he left me with.
“We don’t deserve happiness,” he whispered down to me, his wild curls falling in front of his face. Maybe he believed it in some deep fundamental place inside himself, but he didn’t fool me.
“We’ve done nothing to deserve it. Don’t you agree?
” He undid the button on his jeans, still keeping my wrists roughly pinned above my head with his left hand while his right reached into his pants and pulled himself out.
I could make out his thick girth in his fist along with the sparkle of silver reflecting underneath his shaft, and I burned something terrible to feel him inside of me.
“We deserve every miserable second we have coming to us, Morena.” He breathed out raggedly as he stroked himself up and down, pinning his body so close to mine, all I wanted to do was rub myself against his thighs like a cat in heat to ease some of this torturous feeling.
There was something so dangerous about him like this, so vulnerable and yet so deadly.
We could cross this threshold and never look back, fabricate something out of the ashes of how our story began.
I could see it in that hazel stare of his, that he was still too scared.
Whether it was of the future between him and Ronan if we made this happen or if it was that he was simply afraid of getting what he wanted, of having something worth anything for himself.
Maybe Ronan was just the excuse he used because he couldn’t handle the idea of being wanted. The promise of joy.
Life can’t disappoint you if you always expect the worst.
But that’s no way to live.
“A-nto,” I moaned out again through the drenched bandana, but he ignored my plea and continued to fist himself, more anger than pleasure rippling through his features as he eventually climaxed, thick ropes of cum shooting onto my stomach and my pajamas.
He quickly put himself back into his pants and his eyes widened with a sobering realization as he let my hands drop in front of me.
“Have one of your boyfriends finish you off,” he peeled his lip up in distaste at the word boyfriends and I stood there, looking a bit dumbfounded while I stared awkwardly at him, still desperate for my release. He pulled the bandana out from my mouth, so it hung loosely on my neck.
“Go!” He said through clenched teeth,
I shook my head. He was having second thoughts, but I wasn’t.
He was right, I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t risk innocent lives because I was too afraid of the world out there and the monsters that hunted me.
As if he could read my mind, he bent down and fished Archer’s cell phone from his blazer pocket and stuffed it into his own.
He tugged me by the zip ties, my slipper getting stuck in the pool of blood, forcing me to fall down into it.
He pulled me up with a bitter look on his face before unlocking the Escalade and popping the trunk open.
“Come on,” he tilted his forehead towards the open trunk as if to say he was giving me the kindness of choosing for myself. I exhaled a heavy sigh before climbing in awkwardly with mostly my legs since my wrists were bound in plastic.
Normally I wouldn’t have given it a second thought about Santos álvarez, if you asked me about men I feared.
But laying here in the trunk, my wrists secured, while he drowned out any possibility of a conversation with “505” by The Arctic Monkeys on full blast through the speakers, I was afraid.
I wasn’t sure if that fear was for myself, or for him; For what Ronan would do to him, and for how this would warp his soul.
But the one thing we both knew, and could agree on, was that I couldn’t stay.