Chapter 6 #3
But I don't tell them that. The last thing any of them needs is an ego boost.
Zander has a way with words, especially when there's blood and death around. Something about us killing people who deserve it always makes him go weak in the knees, the same way he does when I ride my motorcycle.
I can't say much, though, because while I love Zander no matter what, it's hard not to admire him right now with a splatter of blood on his cheek from when he cut off Nash's pinkie.
Most people wouldn't be able to handle all that Zander is, but I can because I relate to him in a way I'm not sure I would have been ready to admit if not for him.
"How about we get you cleaned up?" Zander asks me as he pulls my shirt up over my head and lets it fall to the ground.
"You’re right. I should probably go and have a shower," I say with a smile, taking a step back away from him.
His eyes go wide, and he quickly grabs hold of me, pulling me back into his chest. "That's not what I meant, and you know it." He pouts, making me laugh because I did, in fact, know that.
I lean in, pressing my lips to his, and just like that, his worry is forgotten.
His eyes fall closed, and I can feel just how aroused he is.
Reaching up, I press my knife up under his chin, and his eyes fly open.
Most people would be concerned or afraid, but not Zander.
His cock throbs hard enough that I feel it through his jeans, and he lets out a whimper.
"Take your pants off for me, Zan." He's moving before I even finish my sentence, damn near cutting himself in his haste.
His pants fall around his ankles with his boxers, and his cock springs free, so hard it damn near stands straight up. I can't pull my eyes away for a moment as I admire the beautiful barbells that line the underside of his cock.
"Hungry, Doll?" Zander asks, reaching down to grip his cock and thrust into his hand.
I am, but that's beside the point. "Did I say you could touch?" I ask, dropping my knife down to his cock, making him move his hand away. With a smile still turning his lips, he holds up his hands in a show of surrender.
Reaching out, I catch the edge of his shirt and slash the knife up so that it cuts right up the center, leaving his chest on full display. "On the ground."
He falls to his knees in front of me, not seeming to give a shit that his knees have just smashed against the hard concrete ground.
Instead, he looks up at me as he leans forward, dipping his fingers into the blood that runs free on the floor from our friend and smearing it down his face like war paint and all the way down his chest.
Is it sanitary? Not even a little bit.
Am I fucking wet anyway, seeing him like this? Absolutely!
Pressing my foot to his chest, he falls back onto his ass, and I move forward, standing over him. I toss my knife across the room, no longer needing it, and it hits the door with a solid thud.
With my hands free, I push my sweatpants down so that I stand over him in only my bra and panties, the same black lacy set I had on under the dress.
I'd worn them with him in mind, and with how his eyes heat, I know he remembers me putting them on.
He reclines back on his elbows, looking me up and down with a hungry gaze, and I'll be damned if he isn't a psycho girl’s wet dream.
I move forward until he's damn near in line with my pussy, and he quickly reaches out in an attempt to grab hold of me. Letting him would ensure I get what I'm after because we’re both after the same thing, but that's not how I want this to go.
I enjoy being in charge, and he likes it too.
If he didn't, he wouldn't be so set on calling me mommy for pegging him; hell, he probably wouldn't have let me even do it.
I'd never admit it out loud, but I kind of love that stupid nickname, and just maybe I can see the excitement Daddy K gets from it.
Instead of letting him, I slap his hand away, and his smile turns devilish, his eyes taking on that crazed look that tells me just how close he is to begging for me.
I love when he begs.
Something about having a man like him—dangerous, beautiful, and broken, at my mercy, trusting me to take care of his heart when nobody else ever got the chance... It's addictive.
My other knife sits just off to his side, and I drop down to my knees, straddling him as I scoop it up quickly, pressing it to his throat.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I didn't say you could touch me yet, did I?" He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the knife as he holds my gaze but doesn't answer. I know what he's doing, but I feed into it anyway.
What can I say? I enjoy this: the fun of letting go and enjoying the high of the kill.
It's not something I ever got before. No, I killed to stay alive and to protect, but it was always something I hid, something I did in the shadows, just like the rest of my life.
Hidden as I pretended to be something else.
Not now. No, now I'm myself more than I've ever been before, and these crazy, sexy, dangerous men seem to not only love me despite it but because of it...
I press the knife harder into his skin, and that's enough to make him respond.
"No." His voice is low, only a whisper, but it's deep and husky, moving over me like a tangible thing, caressing me.
"I didn't think so." I pull back, letting the knife clatter to the ground without giving it a second glance.
Honestly, if it stabbed him, he would probably be happy about it, and it's not like we haven't had to deal with our fair share of injuries.
"Don't move for me. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy for me?
" I press into him, smearing the blood of our kill across my chest and the exposed tops of my tits, but it's not enough.
Reaching behind my back, I make quick work of the clasp, letting the bra slip down my arms and into his lap.
The bars in my nipples rub against him, and he shivers, sinking his teeth into his lower lip in a bid for control.
"Zander?" My voice is stern, demanding an answer, and it snaps him back to attention. His eyes find mine, and he nods.
I move back, still up on my knees, as I reach down to move my underwear to the side, watching him as he watches my fingers disappear inside of me.
I can see the longing in his eyes, his little whimper of longing going to my head and making me feel high.
Pulling my fingers free, I hold them up so that we can see the way they shine in the light before I shove them into Zander's mouth.
His eyes close, and his head falls back as he begins to clean them with his tongue without missing a beat or needing to be told, with a purr that vibrates through me.
Taking advantage of his attention being elsewhere, I sink down on his cock, making us both curse and groan. The feel of each bar is like bliss, and I curl my fingers into the sensitive skin of his side as he bites down on my fingers to deal with the wave of pleasure.
"Fuck!" I'm moving before I planned to. I wanted to draw this out and make him beg, but it wasn't meant to be. I need him.
Pulling my fingers from his mouth, I run them through his hair, gripping the thick black strands at the back of his head as I continue to rock against him. My clit rubs against his pelvis in a way that pushes me to the edge faster than I'm ready for.
It's too late to stop now, though. I couldn't even if I wanted to, and I'm not sure Zander would let me regardless of what I said or what he agreed to.
"Marry me." His words catch me so off guard that I freeze. Surely I must have heard him wrong because there's no way he just said that.
Right?
Neither of us moves as he continues to watch me.
"Wh–what?" I ask, disoriented and panting.
"Don't look so shocked, Doll." He leans into me so that we’re once again chest to chest, his tongue poking out to spin that stupid lip ring I love so much, making him look cocky and hot as fuck.
What the hell just happened? How did he turn the tables so easily? Wasn't I just in charge not two seconds ago?
I'd love to say he was messing with me, trying to get a rise out of me, but looking at him, I really don't think that's the case.
What. The. Fuck!?
"You're the best thing to ever happen to me, Jade, to all of us.
" His use of my name catches me off guard.
Very rarely does he call me anything but Doll, and if it is something else, it's usually some other cute pet name like love or babe.
He only uses Jade when he's serious, and he can't be serious right now. .. right?
I wish I knew for sure, but the longer he looks at me, the less sure I am.
"I'm not sure how it would work, but we can figure it out later. You’re ours, and we're yours. There isn't anywhere you can go that we won't follow, so why not make it official?"
He makes it sound so simple, as if we can just get married—the seven of us.
As if we didn't just murder a man and chop him up, only to fuck on the floor after...
"Nobody's ever loved me like you do. The guys tolerate my crazy, the same way I deal with theirs, but you," he shakes his head, smiling at me as if I'm something special, and despite the fact that he's still balls deep inside of me, I can't help but blush.
"I want you to be my Valentine every year and wake up to you each morning. I fucking love you, Jade, and that's never going away."
I have no idea what to say or do. So I do the only thing I can: sit and stare at him.
His cock throbs inside of me, making my breath hitch, but even with as good as it feels, I can't make myself move.
What brought this on?
Why now?
"You don't have to answer me now, Doll. Married or not, I belong to you, and you belong to me. You’re like a bloody goddess sent from hell just for me." His hand rubs up my back as he speaks, his fingers gripping my hair much the same way I'm still gripping his.
"So why don't you let me worship you tonight?" It's not a question, and before I can even think to protest, he's flipping us over, laying me on the cold, blood-stained concrete, his hand cradling my head.
He's moving almost immediately, his hips slamming into me, driving his cock and those damn piercings so deep that it's impossible to think about anything other than the way he's fucking me. And trust me, I try.
It's not every day someone asks you to marry them. In fact, I'm pretty sure nobody has ever said that to me before.
Before, I was property on a good day, but to be someone's wife...
Zander's teeth bite down on my nipple, his lip ring tinkling on my nipple ring, and the sensation goes right to my clit as if connected by an invisible string.
His hand leaves my head, coming down to lift my leg onto his shoulder. The new angle allowing him to drive deeper as he begins to move faster.
"You’re the only woman I'll ever love, the only woman I'll bleed for.
" Zander doesn't slow as he reaches for the knife I'd dropped at his side a moment ago.
Moving the sharp tip to his chest, he presses it to the scar on the right side of his chest just above his nipple.
A scar I gave him years ago when he'd been lost to the chaos in his mind.
Since then, it's something he's treated like a trophy, cutting into it again and again whenever he felt the need to bleed.
It shouldn't be sweet, but somehow, with Zander, it is.
His warm blood runs down his chest before dripping onto mine and making me feel feral.
Without thought, I push up on my elbows, sticking my tongue out to press against his fresh cut, tasting him.
His hips lose their rhythm, and he slows his thrusts, gritting his teeth, his cock throbbing inside of me.
Blood is blood. Its strong metallic taste is always the same, but knowing it's his, that he's bleeding for me... That makes it taste even better, like a rare delicacy.
Something I decide I want to share with him.
Gripping his hand, I turn the knife so that its point rests on my chest, mirroring the same place his is. He hesitates a moment, his eyes darting up to meet mine, full of questions and hesitation, despite me guiding his hand.
"I don't know anything about being a wife or if it's possible for us to get married with our relationship.
.." The blade finally pierces my skin, and his eyes go wide, darting between the drop of blood I feel sliding down my chest and back to my face. I know it's hard for him to cause me pain, to make me bleed. Zander might love blood, gore, and punishment, but that’s reserved for those who deserve it. I have no doubt that him cutting into me is costing him something, and I rush to put him out of his misery, to ensure that he’s okay.
"But I'm yours, Zander, until the day my heart stops beating, it's yours. I'll only ever bleed for you."
It's not strictly true because I have five other men I'll bleed for, but he knows that. That's not what this moment is about. This is the closest thing I've come to a promise of being faithful, a promise made in blood that honestly might mean more to both of us than a wedding could.
The knife stops, and I can feel the sting. I know without looking that we match.
I'm not sure what I expect when Zander finally looks back up, and our eyes meet, but it's not the feral heat I'm met with.
The knife clatters to the ground, and he's moving, his hips pistoning into me as he leans in, pressing his lips to my new cut, covering his lips with my blood before moving up to press his lips to mine, mixing us together in yet another way that marks us as one.
Zander fucks me on the floor in a puddle of blood from a man who didn’t deserve to live, as we both bleed for each other, and somehow it feels like a cloud instead of the cold concrete floor, because he loves me, and I love him, and that's all I've ever needed in life.
People to love me no matter the monster I had to become to stay alive.
My Bloody Valentine, now and forever.