8. VIII
VIII
Spencer
D arkened stairs led me higher as the melodic ring of a bell echoed through the surrounding walls. Intermission was over and the theatrical show had recommenced. Remi had definitely outdone himself, my sisters and I put up in our own personal private box, sidelining the stage.
The show itself was not my typical ammo, but I was impressed by his performance nonetheless. The treasure trove fucker had been holding out on me.
Unnaturally booming steps reverberated behind me, causing my feet to skitter ahead with haste. I couldn’t see or sense Echo’s approach, but my pulse elevated at the mere thought of his pursuit. I was playing a dangerous game, and that was my favourite kind.
It wasn’t a conscious decision to track Echo, to follow him into that corridor, but he wasn’t hard to miss with his freshly dyed blonde buzz cut.
Echo wore low-rise leather pants, limited edition sneakers and a black fur jacket with nothing underneath. His attire was a complete contradiction, yet blatant charisma permeated from his very pores. I couldn’t help but find him sexy—and I wasn’t the only one.
Naturally, I wasn’t a jealous person, never caring about someone enough to warrant that type of emotion. However, seeing him with those two desperate women drooling over his exposed chest flipped something in my psyche. I had to steal his attention.
I blindly turned corners and climbed winding stairs until I found myself in the rafters elevated above the stage. A narrow, wooden catwalk stretched out before me, lighting and speakers attached to adjoining metal supports. It was so high up that I was completely hidden from view, though I could still make out the audience and performers… far, far below.
My head snapped from left to right, looking for any escape. He was coming, and there was no alternate route except ahead.
Shaking off the light-headedness, I grasped the rail with both hands and sidestepped along the runway. I was no quitter.
I’d made it halfway across before I flinched when an arm circled my waist, halting me in my tracks. I let out a loud squeal in protest as I felt his Variantsubduethe outburst, which came out sounding more like a whisper.
Echo shoved forward until my hips met metal, his hardened front aligning against my back. His hold was firm and unrelenting, fingers tightening into the fabric of my dress, digging into my skin.
My body was frozen, fear overtaking everything else as my gaze tracked the drop all the way down to the hard, wooden floor beneath.
If I fall, will he catch me?
ECHO
I was locked onto her frame, my hands liking the sensation of her lush body a bit too much.
She trembled, shallow, panted breaths passing her lips in soft puffs. “Let me go.”
“Who said I’d let you go?”
“I saved your life. That’s fair.”
I chuckled. “You’re in the wrong game if you ever thought I’d play fair, sweetheart . ”
The walkway shook beneath our feet as a boom vibrated from the speakers. She flinched so hard that if I wasn’t there as an anchor, she’d have careened over the edge. Oh, this will be fun.
My palm traced up her spine to wrap around her ponytail, hair fisted in my grasp like a vice. “Oh, is my little killer afraid of heights?” I pushed her head further over the rail, the motion causing her ass to grind back against my dick. “Look down and tell me what you’re afraid of,” I said, voice hoarse.
I’d chased her through the whole damn theatre, that swaying ass mocking me, forever out of reach. Every facet of my being was enraptured. She was mine, to do with as I please.
She wanted to play? Then lets fucking play.
My spare hand trailed over her form, searching for any hidden weapons, threats she could use against me. I was well-versed enough not to underestimate her again.
My fingers slipped beneath her dress, tracing up her smooth, shapely calf—which she rewarded with a hitched gasp. She didn’t shut me out, instead shifting her legs wider, granting me access.
I clenched my teeth as pain radiated across my jawline, trying to remain unaffected, clinical in my search.
Then my fingertips swiped the inside of her knee, and her body instinctively shuttered at my touch, dissolving any remnants of my non-existent decorum. I was a goner. The risky liaison fed my raging desire, crossing the precipice to one of pure pleasure and unadulterated lust.
Triggering my Variant, I let my words whisp over her, skimming her flesh with a subtle caress.
“Is it the fall? The weightless, uncontrollable descent?” I asked. Her legs trembled as my knuckles lifted higher, exploring the knife sheath strapped to the inside of her thigh. “Or is it the impact that makes you scared? The splattering of your brains as your skull cracks open all over the hard ground?” I nipped behind her ear, right on top of that incriminating beauty spot. “ Just the thought makes me want to come. ”
My fingers raised higher, and I could have fucking died in that moment. Slick and ripe for the taking, juices saturated her inner thighs with nil encumbrance. She wore no panties, the heat of her centre searing my flesh, threatening to melt away bone if I didn’t take more.
“Hmm. You thrive on fear, don’t you, sweetheart? Fear makes this pussy sopping fucking wet. Tell me, are you still quivering from fright? Or is it because you want me to replace it—with my fingers, my tongue, my big, fat cock?”
Her ass began to push back on the hand that hovered at her entrance, demanding more from my hypnotised state. “Fill me up!” she demanded, ripping me back to the present.
“A command I’m willing to concede.” I let my altered words sink into her flesh, let my voice lull her into a false sense of security—then, I impaled her with two fingers from behind.
She accepted them beautifully, her tight walls clamping down on the intrusion with throbbing consistency. My head dropped to her shoulder, basking in the potency of her glazed aroma, getting high off the fumes.
I pushed in and out with skilled movement, pulsing in rhythm with the thick, bounding beat from the orchestra drums, lapping in her moans and unrestrained thrusts. It wasn’t enough.
Removing my grip from her ponytail, my hand hooked around to the front of her neck, squeezing the air from her spasming throat, her pussy doing the same in stunning harmonisation.
Her frame suddenly pushed against me, her hands rustling in front of her, motions uncoordinated.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, halting all movement.
“Trying to get to my clit.”
Sure enough, she was lifting the front of her dress, struggling to tunnel underneath. A growl escaped my lips as I turned her to face me. “That’s my job.”
“Then get to fucking work before I do it myself,” she said, placing her hand between her legs. Over my dead fucking body.
I wacked her hand away and pressed my thumb hard against her clit, all manner of thought turning vacant, lost in a black hole as I came in contact with a cool piece of metal.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I managed to stumble back a step, spreading two fingers to separate her pink pussy lips and give myself a clear view. “Hold your fucking dress up. Now ,” I practically snarled. And when she raised the material to her waist … Fuck . It took everything within me not to buckle to my knees.
Flawless. Supple. Glistening.
The clit piercing shining, coated with her desire… I wanted to coat it with mine, the idea making me groan. “So pretty. So perfect.” Erotic perfection.
“I know.”
I didn’t even deem her with a reply. Of course, she knew every part of her was exquisite. She was practically shoving it in my face, showing that shit off with a prideful expression. As she fucking should have. I’d never been more turned on in my life.
As one hand remained on her throat, the other ventured lower, two fingers pushing back inside her, my thumb joining in by flicking and pulling her piercing to the verge of pain. She didn’t care, lapping that shit up like she wanted more— needed more.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even fucking think straight, her inner walls squeezing me so tight, I almost combusted at the thought of it being my dick.
“I live here now,” I said, voice guttural and nothing like my own. “Permanently stitched to your fucking insides, never to be removed.” She whimpered in reply.
My eyes caught on movement directly below us. Remi pushed to centre stage, stealing the room’s attention with his flawless voice. I wanted to kill him. He was obviously the reason she was there, and he’d skilfully lied about her importance.
Fury raced through my bloodstream at the mere thought of him having her. Without conscious thought, I roughly shoved a third finger in, her core stretching and pulsating around my aggressive invasion. She groaned, falling forward into my bare chest, using me for leverage as her legs failed her.
“Has he had this cunt? Has he felt this? Tell me ,” I said, gripping her neck tighter.
“No. He hasn’t had me.”
“Right answer.” Without further ado, I simultaneously shoved a fourth finger in deep, pulled on her clit piercing with my thumb and squeezed her throat tight until I cut off her airway.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, yielding her weight for me to catch. I fucked her hard and fast, the ripples of her flesh entirely euphoric, causing my brain to muddle and my vision to double. The thrumming lust in my veins festered for release as she found her own, her climax calling me to join in the primal need for submission. I fought against it and rewarded myself by delving deeper. I wasn’t finished with her yet… Nowhere near it.