Chapter 16
LILIANA
Pleasure ripples through my body as I grind against the stranger’s face, his tongue deep inside of me. I have no idea what I’m doing, naked with a random man’s blood inside my pussy and his tongue lapping it up like it’s candy.
But it feels so good.
I move harder and faster, shutting my eyes and letting myself get lost in the sensation. This man let me cut him, and his threats are empty.
Well, so I assume.
Maybe it is safe to do this.
“Oh fuck,” I pant, as my orgasm builds up in my core.
I want it so bad, I can’t stop. I chase it as he starts to move his face in rhythm with my hips.
He lays his tongue flat against my clit, and I whimper a little louder with every passing thrust against him.
I catch my breath as I reach the peak, and then explode, moisture soaking the man’s face beneath me.
“Oh my god,” I let out a moan, as my hands squeeze my nipples, dragging it out as long as I possibly can.
I don’t even care who’s underneath me, but I think I fucking love him.
Well, his tongue anyway.
He groans beneath me, but before I can even come down from the high, I find myself plummeting forward, barely catching myself as I fall over his head onto the bed. A squeal slips from my lips, and I grab the comforter, searching for my bearings in the blackness.
But I don’t get them before a fucking cock fills my pussy.
Oh shit. What is happening?
Panic sears through my body, and I kick backward, trying to force the weight off me, but it doesn’t work.
“No, little killer,” he coos over me, thrusting deeper. “I told you, if you cut me, I’ll hurt you. And I follow through.” He thrusts in deeper, his body resting against my ass.
And my disgust is overshadowed by fresh arousal.
Why does this turn me on? It’s fucking violating, but as the tips of his gloved fingers dig into the skin of my waist, I press back against him instead of away.
“That’s what I thought.” His distorted voice fills the room, and his grip tightens. “Your pussy is mine.”
The words timed with the slaps of his hips fill a void I didn’t even know I had. I squeeze my eyes shut, fisting the comforter as he picks up his pace, pounding into the back of me.
“I want you to come again, all over this cock,” he groans, barely audible over the sounds of our bodies. “Do I need to cut you for that?”
Cut me. He wants to cut me.
I wait for the panic to come, but all I do is whimper, my oversensitive pussy aching at his words.
“I take that as a yes,” he chuckles as he slows, and then leans against me, his fingers searching for something on the bed. I can’t see much of anything, but even in the dark, I can make out that he’s a big man.
And I like that.
He leans over me, flattening my body beneath his weight. A slight swipe stings my bare shoulder blade, and I let out a whine, my pussy nearly coming undone all over again.
I should be in control. This isn’t what I wanted. But I can’t move against the pleasure I’m nearly drowning in as the burn of the cut deepens.
“You like that? That’s where you first touched me,” he says, his voice straining as he pumps into me harder, faster.
Oh fuck. I do like this. I like this so, so much.
I let out a cry as my orgasm comes on hard, fast, and from nowhere. “Oh,” I scream into the hotel room, and suddenly, his body stills against mine, as he unloads deep inside of me.
“Holy fucking shit, you felt so good,” he mutters as he sags against me. Even through the mask he made sure to put back in place, I can feel his hot breath on my skin. We’re both probably bleeding.
But I have his blood inside of me.
It’s so twisted, but it’s so fucking hot, especially as I feel a gush of his bodily fluids slip from my pussy, warm against my leg.
This was amazing.
I work to catch my breath, gasping for air as we lie there in a sweaty mess. But just as my heart rate starts to steady, he shoves himself upward and off me.
“Thanks for the fun, Little Killer,” he mutters, almost incoherently.
And before I can even roll over, he’s gone.
But so is my fantasy of killing Shaw.
For now.
It’s perfect.
I stare at the painting that came alive this morning, a mixture of pinks, purples, and reds, all in a way that creates a mask. I have no idea if it’s similar to the one my hookup wore last night, since this one is more feminine.
A representative of me.
I stare at the nearly finished painting, and then purse my lips. It’s missing something. The whole thing has been done in pure acrylics, which is missing my signature—some off-the-wall medium.
But I don’t know what to use. I bite down on my lip and then glance over to the shelves of odds and ends, including fake blood and feathers.
None of them make me feel inspired.
But then, as if on cue, my underwear grows warm, more evidence from last night slipping from my pussy.
That’s the answer. A little burst of arousal funnels to my core as I undo my jeans and slip two fingers beneath my waistband. I swipe, and then carefully retrieve my hand, my eyes widening at the amount of semen, me, and strings of dark crimson.
His blood.
I have a strong urge to return it inside of me, my thighs clenching at the thought of reinserting it. But before I let myself give in to that, I reach forward and swipe it, delicately outlining the mask I’ve painted.
It blends perfectly. I can’t stop myself from smiling at it with approval. My eyes drop to my fingers, still coated with what little remains, and I pop them into my mouth, savoring the salt, copper, and tinges of me in the mix.
I want a repeat of last night. Every night.
I pop my fingers out and reach down, tempted to replay last night. However, before I get a chance, my doorbell chimes, and I let out a frustrated sigh.
I can never be left alone here anymore.
“Okay, so?” Alice steps right into my studio without me even letting her in, shutting the door behind her. “Tell me, how did it go last night? Was it everything you wanted it to be?”
“It was…” I stare at her for a few seconds, and then my eyes shift to the canvas covered in hues of pinks and purples—and bodily fluids. “Good.”
Alice smooths out her black blazer and then leans against the desk, making a face at me. “I don’t know how I feel about this answer. What was he like?”
My brow furrows at the question. “I don’t really know what he was like. It was dark, and he wore a mask with a voice distorter… But he let me cut him.” The words come out before I can stop them, and instantly, despite how much of a freak I sound like, my pussy aches for my fingers to return.
“A little knife play and blood play,” Alice smirks. “I like it. It’s very fitting for you with all your fancy, fucked up paintings.”
“It was satisfying, but also…” My voice trails off, worried I might sound like a total slut. “I wanted more. I could’ve had another round.” Or two. Or three. Or all fucking night.
Alice seems to love my answer, her eyes lighting up and red lips curling into a wicked smile. “I knew you were freaky. We just had to find it! Just think,” she giggles, “The murder here is probably what awakened you.”
“That’s fucked up,” I deadpan, my arousal instantly fading.
“That’s hot.”
“I don’t think someone dying is hot.” I shake my head at her, my eyes bouncing back to my work. I feel more inspired than I have since the night of the gala, and the fantasy of actually murdering someone seems to be at bay.
Of course, I haven’t seen Shaw yet. That thought causes a lump to form in my throat. I haven’t thought much of him since last night, but it’s been less than twelve hours, and I know obsessions don’t fade that quickly.
Unless it’s for a new one.
But am I starting to obsess over the man I fucked last night?
It doesn’t feel that way.
“You’re totally lost in your head right now,” Alice hums, reaching out and poking my arm. “You must’ve had the sense fucked right out of you. Love that for you. You deserve to let loose.”
“Yeah,” I clear my throat, forcing a smile. “It just doesn’t erase the reality of what’s still happening here.” I frown, the investigation coming right back to mind. “I’m still probably a person of interest—just because of my past.”
Alice waves me off. “No, you know who the real person of interest is, and I didn’t see her when I walked in the door, by the way. I think she’s late.”
“Hmm,” I mutter, reaching for a towel and wiping my hands. “She’s been running late pretty consistently since the murder. I guess she’s…grieving.”
Alice grabs my shoulders and turns me to face her. “You don’t think she did it?”
I study my best friend’s face and try to imagine Marissa bludgeoning a massive, muscular man to death. “No. I don’t think so. I can easily picture her sleeping with him, but murdering him? No way.”
Alice tilts her head. “Then who do you think did it?”
I breathe in, racking my brain for an answer. “Honestly? I don’t know. It could’ve been anyone, I guess. Maybe he had some kind of business go wrong? I mean, he was cheating on his wife, so…”
“So his morals are questionable,” Alice agrees, dropping her hands and leaning back against my desk. “I think you could’ve made a good detective, Lil.”
I burst into laughter. “No way. I’m into too much weird shit to be a detective.”
“True,” Alice giggles. “I bet all detectives are vanilla. Parker sure as hell is.”