Chapter 63
Ripley did not just leave me.
He’ll be back.
He has to come back.
He better fucking come back for me or I’ll hunt him down and kick his ass.
Sam starts to stir, the loose grit on the floor scraping with his movements. He groans in pain, rolling onto his back. I force myself to still, breathing as quietly as possible.
Lifting his head, Sam glares at me. “Where…is…he?” he huffs between laboured breaths.
I can’t fucking speak or shrug my shoulders, so I cast my eyes toward the door.
“He…left?”
“Mhmm,” I reply.
“Can you…walk?” He’s sweaty and panting, probably toeing the line of passing out. I scowl at his question. How should I know? I’ve lost track of the time tied up in here. “You better hope you can. You have to help me out of here.”
The fuck I do.
Sam army crawls himself across the cement, grabbing onto my ankle when he reaches me. My eyes dance between him and the empty doorway.
Any fucking time now, Rip.
I know I’m not going anywhere, but he can’t just leave me hanging.
Pun not intended.
Sam’s nails slice into my leg as he uses me for support, clawing his way up my body until he has his only good leg under him.
“Try and steady yourself so I don’t fall,” he wheezes.
My toes barely touch the floor, and the bits that do are not going to stop me from swinging.
He wraps his fingers tightly around my up stretched wrist, reaching with his other hand to undo the belt-like binding.
The memory from the last time someone untethered my hands slams into me, and I shake, trying to get his attention. “Stop fucking moving,” he grumbles.
I mumble a “fucking asshole,” though he’ll never understand the sound rumbling in my throat.
“Watch it, Rosie. I’ll rip those stitches free and fuck your crude little mouth.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
Rip’s voice like a dangerous lament calls from the doorway, and I turn toward it.
He’s covered in blood, button-up hanging open, exposing the gore covering his skin.
Is he hurt? His eyes are different, something distinctly him is missing, though they still light up at the sight of me, albeit dimmer than before.
Sam fists my hair to keep from falling and I shriek from the sudden pain.
“Let her go.”
“Fuck off,” Sam growls into my ear.
Rip’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Should I kill him, flower? Or do you want the honour?”
I smile as much as the stitches will allow.
“Very well,” Rip replies.
I shoot him a wink, and he leans leisurely against the door frame, taking the weight off his bleeding leg.
What the shit?
What happened?
There’s a scrap of material wrapped around his calf, tied tight, though doing little to stop the flow, it seems.
My eyes dart from his wound to his eyes, back and forth enough times that he picks up on my concern.
“Later, baby.”
I garble a frustrated scream, and he laughs.
“I’m fine. Carry on.”
I huff, annoyed.
Turning inward, I gather up all my strength. I hang my head, chin briefly touching my chest. Then I fling my head back with all my strength, driving the back of my skull into Sam’s stupid face.
His hand is ripped from my hair as he loses his balance, falling backward onto the floor, nose crooked and leaking a river of blood.
Rip’s on him faster than I can blink, driving his fist into Sam’s cheek.
I scream and kick at him, trying to get his attention.
“What, Rose?” he snaps, whirling on me.
I have a better plan for Sam before I kill him, something that will drive him to the point of madness. I shimmy my shoulders, jiggling my tits, trying to convey what I want him to do without words.
I wiggle my hips, turning around and shaking my ass like an idiot.
“Rose…”
I spin back to him. His hand is poised to drive into Sam’s jaw, other fist cinched tight in his shirt, holding him steady.
“You’re not serious?”
Oh, I’m dead fucking serious.
I nod, tilting my head in a come here motion. Rip slams his fist into Sam’s face once more, kicking him in the ribs for good measure before advancing on me.
“You’re sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
The words make my heart beat faster, but I roll my eyes.
Rip’s fingers slide down my torso, slipping between my legs. He works me up, soft and slow, turning me so Sam can see everything.
“You want to make him watch, flower? Show him how a man with consent can make you fucking scream?”
I nod, humming my agreement, as Ripley’s touch spreads like a comforting warmth across my skin.
With his free hand, Ripley dips into his pocket, pulling out a switch blade. “Let’s get the binding’s off you, hmm?”
I nod. “Hold still.”
Rip slips the blade under the thread, sawing slowly through the fibres.
“You fucking piece of shit,” he snarls, whirling on Sam who’s trying hard to hide a snicker.
“Those won’t be coming off that easily,” he glowers.
“Can I stab him, flower?”
My look says, “Why?”
Rip heaves in a deep breath. “Because he closed your mouth with millinery wire. Looks like thread, but it’s wire too. I need tools, baby.”
I slit my eyes and scowl at the maggot on the floor, jutting my chin in his direction.
Ripley’s answering smile is sexy and sinister as hell. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.” He drops to a knee, sliding the blade slowly in between Sam’s ribs, making it hurt.
He wails in agony, and Rip uses Sam’s shot out knee to right himself back on his feet.
“Should we continue?”
I whimper my agreement.
He pushes his pants down his thighs, stroking his erection as he erases the distance between us.
Does killing get him hot? Or is it me in these chains, completely at his mercy?
His scorching touch meets my skin, travelling down over the swell of my ass to hitch my leg up over his hip. He presses inside me slow, groaning deep as his arm bands around my back, pulling me onto him as he rocks his hips forward.
“Want to know a secret?”
“Hmm?” I murmur.
“I dreamt of you.”
That shocks the hell out of me. I make another sound, hoping he will elaborate. Rip slams into me harder, the feeling making my head fall back in euphoria. “Dreamed about that mouth, what it would feel like wrapped around me,” he breathes, pulling out and sliding back in slowly.
“Fuck, I have to know if your mouth feels as good as your cunt. Won’t you let me? Please, Rose. I’ll get you out. Take you home. Wait on you hand and foot. Give you anything, everything. Just don’t torture me like this anymore.”
Fuck, I want to kiss him. Suck him dry. Wrap my arms around him and take him to the back of my throat. But none of that is possible right now, and it pisses me off.
“I need to know I’m the only one you surrender to,” he mutters against my swollen lips, eyes locking on mine.
“The only one you cage that monster for.” I nod, a sex-drunk fool, willing to agree to anything.
That monster is mine, I’ll wield her any way I need to.
“Because you want my cock in your mouth, don’t you, flower?
” He fucks me deeply and I whimper. “What was that?” he rasps through a blooming smirk.
“Yes, my saviour, I’ll suck your cock, but I need to see you beg me for it first?
” I nod again, needing to see him willingly kneeling for me before I will for him.
“You drive a hard bargain, my Rose. All sharp thorns and pretty tears. But without a doubt, I’ll beg you for the pleasure you withhold from me. ”
Then he drops to his fucking knees.
“Take notes, deadman, this is what Rose deserves,” he directs to Sam, who may have passed already. Ripley’s obsidian gaze sweeps back to my puzzled one. “Worship.”
He gently lifts my leg, placing it over his shoulder.
Slowly, Rip kisses up the inside of my thigh, fingers slipping into my centre, pumping leisurely.
His mouth reaches the apex. Ripley looks up at me, the heat in his eyes almost enough to make me cum on the spot.
Leaning in, his hot breath moves across my skin in a dance of anticipation.
His fingers curl inside me, and I’m on the ledge already. “Not yet,” he whispers.
My back arches at the first swipe of his tongue across my clit.
He holds me steady, licking hard and slow as his fingers have me writhing, quickly losing the battle of holding on.
I want to drag this out, enjoy it for so long it pushes out everything that’s happened, erases everyone’s touch from my skin but Ripley’s.
Suddenly, his pace changes. His thrusting fingers plow in and out of me as his mouth latches to my clit, sucking until my eyes fucking cross. The world hazes, nothing matters except the feel of him owning my body like no one before.
Light explodes behind my eyes, fireworks lighting up my skin as I descend into a new realm of pleasure.
His fingers slip from within me, and he seats me on his cock once more. “Look at me,” he breathes. “Watch me fill you.”
Everything in me tightens at his words, eyes fluttering open. His swollen lips gleam with my arousal as he gazes upon me like I’m all that matters.
He reaches up, carefully undoing the buckle from one wrist. I should be worried, but I know he won’t let me fall. My arm drops like a deadweight, but he catches it, placing it on his shoulder. Repeating the process with the other one. “Touch me,” he rasps, placing eager kisses along my neck.
I fight to move my cold, stiff fingers, managing to thread them into the hair at the base of his neck and grip tight.
He walks us to the far wall, the one lined with a mirror, and presses my back against it.
Moving within me, thrusts slow and hard, he murmurs something I can’t make out.
His hand leaves me, snaking behind his back.
When he brings it back around, he’s holding a gun.
He dangles it between us. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” I shake my head and he smiles. “Another first that will belong to me.”
Why is he so fucking adorable?
“Take it, I’ll help.”
My fingers wrap around the grip, feeling the weight of it.
“Slow,” he whispers, "aim, watch for kickback.”
Ripley’s thrusts rival the speed of a tortoise, but I still feel him throbbing, resisting so I can focus.
“Kill him, flower. Have him die knowing you chose me.”
It’s near impossible to pull my eyes away from Ripley to look at the disgusting worm on the floor, but I do, for him.
It’s got to be like throwing a ball right? Look where you want the bullet to go, and it will go there?
Sure, why not?
I point the muzzle the way I think I should, and squeeze the trigger.
A wet sucking sound is made as the bullet descends into Sam’s gut. That’s a little north of what I was aiming for, but for a first shot it wasn’t bad.
“Again,” Ripley growls, pulsing his cock deep within me.
Sam’s either passed out or died from blood loss, not making so much as a sound when the second shot rips into his groin.
“One more,” he breathes, resuming the tempo he previously abandoned.
I barely look where I’m shooting this time, more entranced by the man driving into me at an unforgiving pace. I take aim, looking at Rip while he turns to watch Sam. The corpse’s head flys to the side as the bullet plows through his face, spraying bits of shattered jaw across the floor.
Ripley’s eyes roll back, fingers digging into my ass as he loses control. He drives deep, erupting, as his lips land against my swollen, caged ones.
His breath steadies as his gaze crashes into mine.
“Let’s go home, flower.”