Chapter 23 Liam #2
“Fuck me,” I beg. “Please, Ryker, I need you in me so bad.”
“Not done,” Ryker says, his voice low. “Gonna make you so pretty, brat. You’ll put all the other corpses to shame.”
The other corpses.
“Tell me,” I say, my voice thready with pain and arousal alike. “Tell me about them. I want to hear what they looked like.”
Ryker leans down, the knife still between us, and gives me a hard, bruising kiss. “Blood flowing from all the cuts. Drip, drip, drip. Onto the forest floor. The open cavities where their organs spill out. It’s a fucking mess. But that deep crimson, that lovely copper smell…”
This is the first time he’s admitted anything that could be remotely incriminating to me, and I relish it.
He’s trusting me.
It makes something strange flutter in my chest because I don’t know how to handle that information. I’ve trusted him, sure, but that’s never been reciprocated.
Does this mean he’s going to kill me now?
Or is he going to invite me into his world?
“Oh, God,” I whisper. “I want to see it. Please, please promise me you’ll show me one day.”
“I could show you right now,” Ryker answers, his lips curving against mine. Then he sits up and lays the point of the knife into the hollow of my throat. “If I cut right here.”
I inhale sharply, not sure if it’s from fear or need.
“Should I beg you not to?” I ask, my eyes lingering on him even though I’m having a hard time making them focus.
Just like in the park, the pain is turning into bliss, and while I still feel the discomfort, it’s less pressing than the need to come.
Ryker tilts the knife.
I can feel the point digging into my skin. If I move, I’ll stab myself on that blade.
I meet Ryker’s eyes, and there’s no indication of what he’ll do. All I can see is the desire.
The lust, for me.
For my body — dead or alive, I can’t be sure, but I don’t think I really care.
Then Ryker lets out an annoyed growl and lifts the knife. He sets it aside on the bedside table.
I whine. “What? Don’t stop!”
Ryker laughs. “You fucking stupid brat.” He moves back to sit between my legs and pushes my thighs up. “Fuck. Where’s your lube?”
“Bedside drawer,” I tell him, my voice going thick with desire.
He has to let go of me again to grab it, and I almost sob at the loss of his touch. He finds the lube and squirts a lot directly onto my hole, then onto his cock.
After two strokes to coat himself, he grabs my thighs again and thrusts inside without any other preparation at all.
My breath catches.
He doesn’t stop until he’s bottoming out inside of me, and I wail in pain and pleasure at the stretch and the way the wounds on my chest stretch and pull.
Blood is flowing freely, and I wonder how deeply he’d cut me.
But the scent only adds to the moment, and the pain spurs me on even as his cock brushes against my prostate.
The sensations are too intense for me to stop my climax, and besides, why would I want to? It’s been two fucking weeks.
I cry out, my entire body shuddering with the force of my orgasm, the most intense I’ve ever experienced. All these weeks of denial have coalesced into this moment.
Forget seeing stars. I’m seeing the entire universe, and it’s crystal clear now that the center of it really is me and Ryker.
By the time I come back to myself, I’m panting heavily.
Ryker chuckles, but he hasn’t stopped moving. “I knew you’d come instantly. Needy little brat.”
“Yeah,” I agree, not bothering to argue with him. I’m aware of the cum coating our bodies, but I couldn’t care less. It feels so damn good to have him inside of me again. “Fuck.”
My vision still swims, but I can make out Ryker’s smile, and my body feels his intensity. I want to clench for him, but I have no energy left to do even that.
Even the sudden chill in the room doesn’t ruin the moment for me. All I want is Ryker inside me.
Forever.
Ryker grunts and thrusts harder. His eyes close and his mouth parts, and on the next thrust, he holds still as he fills me with his cum.
I groan and wish I could lift my arms up to him.
When he’s done, Ryker folds forward and grabs my chin to kiss me.
I kiss him back fiercely, lifting my head to deepen it.
I can’t catch my breath, and everything is hazy.
I wouldn’t change it for anything.
Ryker pulls out of me, and I whimper. “Please. Don’t go.”
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Stupid brat. I have to clean you up, or I really will be a murderer.”
“Oh.” I laugh, the sound delirious even to my own ears. “I told Maggie you take care of me after you hurt me, that you’re good at all of this. I might be a stupid brat, but I’m your stupid brat.”
“I’m great at clean-up,” Ryker agrees. He kisses me again. “Don’t move or you’ll drip blood all over.”
“Mhm,” I agree. I don’t think I could move if I tried.
I drift as he heads into the bathroom, and I’m mostly asleep by the time he returns with a washcloth and my first aid kit.
“Nobody’s ever found one of my corpses, after all,” Ryker says as he starts wiping me down. “Don’t ruin my streak.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I tell him, a smile curving onto my lips.
I close my eyes again, letting him take care of me.
He really does want me.
I knew it.