Chapter 6 KIT
KIT
Have I imagined my sister’s Satan worshipping best friend on her knees like this before?
Fuck yes. Hard not to when she always spoke about sex like she’s discussing the fucking weather.
I never told anyone though. Not my mates. Not the guys from my platoon. Not even Wes… and fuck, we’ve swapped more truths than most men survive.
Now she’s here on her knees. Black smears running from her eyes to leave a dirty trail down her cheeks. Those lips that she used to hide behind black lipstick, fuck, they are the perfect shade of pink, all swollen and rolled back as she takes my cock into her mouth like a fucking pro.
Fuck. Maybe she is. Maybe this is exactly what she does for a living.
I used to tag her as the enemy. Still kinda do. Most women fall into that category by default with me. But I’m working on that.
My hangups aren’t great. It’s fucking wrong that every woman I look at besides my sister and daughter has me throwing walls up. But fuck, I go to therapy when I can… sometimes.
Therapy is fucking draining. I know where it all stems from. My cunt of a mother.
She traded me for her next high, giving me to sick foul women that liked to abuse.
I learned really fucking quick that women could wound deeper than the bullets I’ve dug from my flesh.
It’s taken years to scrub those fucking lessons from my brain, but some days, the stain of them fucking shows through.
Bell Bishop though… she never fit that pattern. She carries her own wounds. She’s experienced another kind of evil, and despite that, she holds her head high and faces this fucked up world like a fucking warrior.
I used to hate that about her. Jealous I couldn’t be the same.
I’ve kept my distance because the more I hated her, the more I wanted her.
Fuck. I’ve been obsessed from day one.
Intrigued. In awe. Completely fucking infatuated.
I even thought I was in love with her right before I married Rhonda.
She’s chaos in combat boots, and I’ve been tracking her in the shadows for years.
So why am I crossing the line now?
“Kill me with your cock.”
Fuuuuck, that’s why.
She stretches her lips wide, those big dark eyes locking with mine as she gives me a command and consent in one breath.
Every muscle locks up as I fight the trained soldier in me to stand the fuck down.
Take the fucking shot, Kit. She’s giving herself to you on a fucking platter.
Control is something I’ve mastered. Drilled into me through therapy and combat training. I need to measure the response. Tame the fucking rage and keep it leashed.
So what the fuck is this?
Violence.
That’s what I feel when I fuck. That’s what I feel now.
But with her, the line blurs. She’s not afraid of the part of me I fight to bury. She’s calling it out. Daring me to trust it.
“Shift back,” I order, my voice low and deep as I point to the bed.
She moves without hesitation, her body language fluent as she shifts and leans her back against the side of my mattress. Her dark eyes lock with mine as she rests her head back, her lips open wide like she’s desperate to taste my cock.
Fuck, she’s stunning. A dark beauty. Probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen with those plump tits more than a firm handful, her nipples such a deep rose colour, peaked hard with silver barbell piercings… I frown as I lean closer, getting a better look at those fucking piercings.
“Fuck, Bell. Are those skulls?” I take in the silver diamond encrusted skull heads at each end of the barbell, and when I glance up, she nods, her red-tipped fingers coming up to pinch each nipple.
She doesn’t speak, her mouth still wide, reminding me of one of those cheap-ass blow up dolls.
Reaching down, I bat her hands away and roll each nipple between my fingers, my gaze tracking how her eyes roll in the back of her head momentarily.
Fuck. The fact that she’s so turned on by me, the guy she hates with a passion… well, fuck. I’m gonna make this brutal.
The violence inside me shifts, still lurking at the surface but no longer wrapped in hate.
It’s a violent sort of hunger and need. I don’t just want to take, but fuck, I want to give.
And fuck, I’ll give it all to her.
She wants my violence. She craves it.
A low growl rumbles in my chest as I release her nipples, and fist my cock, watching her eyes flare with desire.
“This what you want?” I snarl through gritted teeth, feeling the violence build inside me like a fucking rush, and fuck… she nods.
“You want my cock, Bell? You want to fucking choke on it?”
She nods again, her reaction triggering every instinct I’ve spent years containing.
I slap my hard rod across her cheek, and her nostrils flare, her hands whipping up to wrap around the backs of my thighs, urging me forward.
Another savage growl falls from me as I steer my cock to her lips and forcefully surge in.
She stiffens even as she holds my legs in place like she wants more, and I widen my stance, making sure I get the right angle to penetrate her throat all the way down, my hand fisting her hair again to hold her to me with each deep thrust.
She gags, and my cock fucking swells as her throat constricts around me.
“Fuck… yes… take it. Fucking take it.” I snarl, curling my lip as I let my rage rush to the surface.
I fuck into her mouth and throat relentlessly, revelling in the power I hold right now, yet a part of me knows I should be concerned with how much she likes being abused like this.
Fuck, I’m concerned at how much I love doing it.
But shit, she doesn’t pinch me, just holds me closer, even forcing her head forward as much as she can as I seat myself right to the hilt.
Her body is fighting, even though her mind isn’t. It’s a natural reflex to want to fight the intrusion, and the gagging grows more intense as I fuck her throat with strong punches.
“Fuck, you’re such a slut, Bell,” I seethe, going faster, and her lids flutter closed like she’s getting fucking high. “Open your eyes!” I demand. “I wanna see those tears as you fade.”
Her lids snap open with a flare, and I can feel her weakening under each punch of my hips, her grip on my legs lightening.
“Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Take it.” I roar. “Fucking take it!”
As pleasure rushes to my nuts, I do as she asked before, pinching her nose, cutting off all of her air, and she convulses around me as her body protests, and fuuuuck, I can’t hold back any longer, my climax hitting me like a fucking sledgehammer as I start shooting cum right down her throat.
She shudders as I watch her, and fuck… did she just come too? I can’t fucking tell as I watch her fade quickly, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and I pump more and more into her before her body finally goes limp.
“Fuuuuck. You were made for me,” I rasp, knowing she’s out cold and can’t hear that fucking admission.
Easing my cock from her abused mouth, her head lulls to the side, so I give her face a little tap.
“Bell. Wakey, wakey.”
Nothing.
“Bell…” I slap her face harder.
Still nothing.
“Bell!” I yell, shaking her, and her fucking head lulls forward.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I fucking killed her!
“No, Bell! Fuck!”
I drag her flat to the floor, pressing my fingers to her neck to check for a pulse.
“Fucking hell. Don’t you die on me!” I find a faint thrum of her pulse, and as relieved as I am to feel it, it’s fucking weak.
Rolling her onto her side in the recovery position, I force my fingers into her mouth, scooping out the residual cum, before thumping her back a few times.
Looking up, I spot my phone sitting on the far bedside table.
Fuck. I need to call an ambulance.
A choked gagging sound lurches from Bell, and her entire body coils as she starts coughing up some of my cum that must have been deep down in her throat.
I rub her back as my panic fades, but my fear still remains, because shit… I nearly killed her. I let go for the first time with another person, and I fucking nearly killed her.
Bell hacks up some more, pushing herself up on her elbow, and once she’s done, she flops back on the floor, her gaze trained on the ceiling as her lips spread wide in a grin, and fuck, her pupils are blown like she’s high.
Shit, is she?
“Have you taken something?” I snarl, and with that lazy smirk, she lolls her head from side to side.
“No, Kitty Kat. You’re the only thing that’s made me high.” Her lazy stare flicks to me. “Don’t worry.”
My brows shoot up. “Don’t worry?”
“Nine hundred and nineteen days, remember?” She slurs. “I’m not throwing that away for anything.”
I fucking gape at her. “I nearly killed you.”
She shrugs, panting. “I’m still alive. Relax.”
“Relax?” I fucking squeak like my voice just broke. “Bell… what I did—”
Her hand slaps haphazardly over my mouth. “Shhhh. Your concern is too loud.” She drops her hand to the carpet, patting it. “Come down here with me.”
I realise I’m fucking heaving, so I work to calm my breathing and slow my racing heart, shuffling to lay down on the floor next to her.
For a few minutes, we lay there staring up at my ceiling in silence. What we just did plays like a reel through my head, giving me snapshots of moments.
When I was doing that… fucking her throat with such brutality, I felt so fucking high. So powerful. I fucking loved hurting her like that, and it only confirms what I’ve suspected for a long time.
I’m a fucking sadist.
"Are you alright?” I rasp, breaking the silence.
“I’m amazing.” She practically purrs, and in my periphery, I see her turn her head my way, so I do the same, locking eyes with her.
Fuck… what a sight she is.
“You’re fucking beautiful like this.” I prop myself up on my elbow, staring down at her as I trail my finger over the ink on her décolletage, tracing the scars underneath.
She stiffens a little, but doesn’t stop me, so I lower my head and dart my tongue out, tasting the salt on her skin as I lick over a few of the raised imperfections.
But fuck. They are perfect to me.
“Kit,” she whispers. “What are you doing?”
Lifting my head, I find her eyes and the flash of uncertainty in them.