four #2
I don’t like the thought of someone else watching over our girl, protecting her like she’s theirs, not ours.
I like the thought of her and her accomplice outsmarting me even less.
Was someone else watching through their own cameras, or did they hack into mine?
And now that we got Mabel, has someone been watching all of us?
Someone invisible not just to Mabel, but to me, a panther slinking through the night like a whisper, a shadow shrouded by darkness.
“Who took the body?” I demand at last, wheeling on my heel toward her bed. “The one in your aunt’s house. That one wasn’t the Black Widow Killer. Why would she clean up after someone else?”
“I don’t know,” Mabel says. “I guess… To protect me?”
“But you didn’t kill him,” I point out. “So who was she protecting?”
“Maybe she’s protecting all of us,” Duke says. “Our own twisted guardian angel. She must want us together.”
“Or she’s Mabel,” I say. “Because that makes a hell of a lot more sense.”
“I’m not answering that question again,” Mabel says, standing from the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. It’s getting light already.”
“I’m going back to bed,” Duke says, flopping down on the mattress. “Hit the light on your way out.”
A minute later, I hear the shower running.
I can’t stop my brain from working overtime, thinking about what Mabel must be thinking.
Is she triumphing that she outsmarted me?
Does she have some secret device I don’t know about, one she communicates from when she’s outside her house, so I never got my hands on it or saw it through the cameras?
If she did, that means she knew I was watching. She was one step ahead of me all along.
The idea both pisses me off beyond reason and makes me mad with lust. I turn and head into the bathroom, sliding back the door to the glass shower to reveal Mabel’s wet, naked body.
“What are you doing?” she demands, wrapping her arms around herself as if she can hide her body from me—a body that’s already mine. It’s her mind I can’t conquer. That’s why I can never forget her, never move on. No one else can make me doubt everything, even myself, the way Mabel Darling can.
“Let me see you,” I say, my voice low.
She swallows hard, then drops her arms. She’s not a brat, one of those girls who are mouthy and stupid to think they could ever win.
And she’s not weak and trembling, begging for mercy, despite all the times I’ve hurt her.
She knows it’s not personal, that I need the pain.
She understands, and she gives me exactly what I need—not a fight, but unwilling participation.
She will never want me, never want pleasure.
That makes me want her more, makes me harder than seeing her knotted rosebud nipples and scarred skin swept with gooseflesh.
I undress quickly, set my glasses on the counter, and step into the shower. She cowers back against the wall, but she doesn’t try to escape. She knows she can’t.
She sobs when I force myself inside with no prep, but she doesn’t fight me.
I lift her legs around me, gripping her ass and slamming her down onto me, watching the tears spurt from her eyes, her face twisted in pain, her cunt offering friction that’s nearly painful, a tightness that drives me wild with need.
I pin her to the wall and pump into her, driving to the hilt while she chokes on the pain.
I’m quick, not out of mercy, but because I know her body will adjust and get looser and wetter if I last too long, and she’ll start seeking pleasure, and that will ruin it for me.
I cum inside her, holding her pinned to the wall, my hands protecting her from the hard tile.
I want my cock to cause her pain, nothing else, so all her focus is there—on how deep I am, how much of her I’ve claimed, ravaged, destroyed.
How helpless she is to stop me. I enjoy the power, the violation, as much as her physical pain.
When she whispers a tiny plea, I punish her by drawing back and slamming in deep again, past her depths, into her resistant core. I grip her chin, holding her head back against the wall, and press a kiss to her wet, trembling lips. They taste like salt and surrender.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re the killer,” I murmur into her mouth.
“I hope you are. I don’t want you any less for it.
But know this, my little monster. No matter what you do, you belong to us.
If you put me six feet in the ground, I’ll crawl out of the grave and come back for you.
Nothing can stop me, not even death. You are mine. Now and forever.”
She shudders against me, trying to lift off my punishing length impaling her. I grip her hip and hold her pinned, my cock throbbing inside her.
“If you try to meet another man again, I’ll take him with us,” I say. “I’ll kill every man you touch, one by one, until there’s not a man alive on earth but me.”
“What about Duke?”
“Duke is part of me,” I say. “The best part. He’s yours too.”
“What if I left you anyway?” she asks. “What if it wasn’t for a man?”
“I’d kill every woman on earth too.”
“What if I just wanted to be left alone?”
“You can be alone with us.”
“I could kill myself,” she said. “What then?”
“I’d put myself in the ground with you,” I say. “There’s no escaping me, little monster. As much as you are mine, I am yours. We will be together. The three of us. Always.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“If you want it to be,” I say. “A promise, a threat, our fate… It’s all of those things.
You’ve always been mine, even before you existed.
If you try to take yourself away from me, I’ll follow you down.
If you try to get rid of me, I’ll take you to the grave with me.
I’ll follow you to the end of the world, through space and time, through death and every lifetime, through all eternity.
No matter what you do, I will never let you go. I promise you that, my monster.”
“Promise you won’t make me think I’m crazy again,” she says, her breathing rapid, her bare belly pressing to mine with each inhale.
I run my knuckles along her jawline, tipping her chin up before wrapping my fingers around her bruised throat just to watch her flinch.
I smirk down at her, loving how she just revealed her greatest fear, her deepest insecurity to me, making herself vulnerable in a way that usually only her body is.
Leaning in, I graze my nose against hers, watching her nostrils flare when she feels my cock throb inside her, stiffening again just when she thought I’d take mercy on her.
“I promise.”
Then I fuck her again because I can and because I want her to know it, to never forget that she’s mine as much as I’m hers.
She ensnared me, trapped me like the spider she is, and this is the consequence.
She wanted me, so she got me. She shouldn’t have woven me into her web if she didn’t want every part of this—the hand around her throat, allowing her to breathe; the cock inside her deeper than anything is meant to go, then in her ass when her cunt’s too wet; the smile on my face when she finally cracks and begs me to stop.
I do, but only after I’ve gotten rough enough to draw the sweet scream that rises out of her like a siren’s call, making my orgasm erupt inside her.
I step out of the shower, letting her crumple to the floor, sobbing and shaking. I leave her there, the water beating down on her, mingling with the blood trailing toward the drain in rivulets. She asked for it. She wanted to the love of a monster, and she got it.