Chapter 36 #2
I groan, pressing my forehead to hers as my balls draw taut against the base of my cock.
I’m completely fucked. I’ll never get tired of being inside her.
Fucking her isn’t a want, it’s a profound need.
I need to feel her hot sheath wrapped around my dick, and I need to find completion within her delectable body.
Killing was my addiction before she crash-landed back into my life.
Now my every waking thought is filled with her.
We come together, bodies straining, hands rasping, lips clinging.
We wash away the evidence of our fucking in the downstairs bathroom and return to the kitchen afterward. I sweep up the mess on the floor while Zilphia washes the dishes. We look like a normal couple, doing normal couple shit. I scoff at the thought. What we have is far from normal.
“Hey, cut it out or time out for you both!” she exclaims good-naturedly.
My unruly pets nearly knocked her over with their roughhousing.
She’s taken a liking to them, and they’ve taken a liking to her too.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to help me keep her in check.
After I finish sweeping up the broken glass, I return the broom and dustpan to the hall closet just beyond the kitchen entrance.
“Done,” Zilphia announces, folding the dish rag over the faucet.
“Let’s go,” I say, motioning her forward. “I gotta get going.”
“No,” she responds, jutting out her chin defiantly, but it’s all for show. There’s no mistaking the fear in her eyes.
“What the fuck you just say?” I growl, taking a menacing step in her direction.
Zilphia bolts to the other side of the island. “Take me to work with you. You can’t possibly keep me handcuffed to the bed forever.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.” I stalk after her with long strides, but she runs again. “The more you run, the greater the punishment will be.”
Sensing the tension between us, Mayhem and Harley position themselves in front of her, whining plaintively.
What the actual fucking hell? “Goddamn traitors,” I grumble before narrowing my eyes at her. “You turned my dogs against me.”
“Can you please be reasonable for once in your life?” she asks, throwing her hands up in exaggeration. “Staying in bed all day isn’t healthy for me or the baby. I need to move around and get some exercise.”
I halt my pursuit and contemplate her words for several long moments before coming to a decision. “You stay within my sight at all times. Do you understand me?”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
“You don’t even take a piss without my permission.” I walk into her personal space and grasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Don’t test me, Zilphia.”
“I said I understand,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “I won’t even wipe my butt without your permission,” she adds sarcastically.
I inspect the 1977 Chevrolet Camaro with a discerning eye as I coast a hand over the gleaming orange surface. This profession kinda fell into my lap. Zeus brought me to the shop one day, and the rest is history. Once I got my shit together, I practically came here every day after school.
When I graduated, Zeus signed Empire Auto Repair Services & Custom Paint over to me. The repair shop is on the other side of the building, but I leave the repairing to the mechanics, though. Fixing shit ain’t my jam, but I’m a fucking Picasso when it comes to painting.
“Soooo,” Zilphia starts, drawing out the one-syllable word behind the respirator mask covering the bottom half of her face.
I gave it to her to protect both her and our unborn baby from the fumes back here.
The ventilation system is top-notch, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. “This is what you do for a living?”
“Yep.” I glance back at her. “What about it?”
“Nothing.” Zilphia shakes her head, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “I just thought you um…”
She trails off as she fidgets in the overstuffed chair I carted from my office for her explicit comfort. I only did it to shut her up. Her incessant whining about the folding chair being too hard, her ass hurting, and future back problems started grating on my nerves.
“You thought I killed people for a living?” I finish for her.
“Well, you said it, not me.”
I chuckle and refocus on my task. “I don’t kill people every day, Zilphia.” As an afterthought, I add, “I would if necessity called for it, though.”
“But why kill people at all?” she asks me. “Why not just do this? You’re obviously really good at it.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “I’m really good at killing too, and some people need killing.” I spread my arms in a wide arc. “Call me Mr. Jack-of-all-Trades. I paint during the day and blow motherfucker’s brains out at night.”
She scoffs. “And who decides who lives and who dies?”
“Zeus, of course,” I answer her.
“And who made him judge, jury, and executioner?” I hear the loathing in her voice. She thinks my old man is dirt. Zeus is no angel, that’s true enough, but he isn’t all bad either. He does a lot of good too.
“Get off your high horse, Joan of Arc,” I retort, moving my gaze to the black flames painted on the hood of the car. “Every asshole I kill deserves it ten times over.”
“Why does it have to be you?” she questions, refusing to drop the subject. “Can’t someone else do it?”
“Nah, I like killing.” I saunter across the garage and come to a stop several inches in front of her. “If you thought I spent my days killing people, why’d you beg to come to work with me? Looking to learn the trade?”
“Of course not!” she exclaims. “It didn’t cross my mind at the time. I just didn’t want to be handcuffed to the bed.”
I reach a hand out and coast a thumb over her delectable lips, recalling how they stretched so beautifully around my cock this morning. “Why do you care that I kill people?” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Concerned for my soul, Zilphia?”
She gasps, her gaze widening on the bulge growing in my denim jeans. “Don’t you ever get tired of having sex?”
I laugh out loud. “What twenty-one-year-old male gets tired of sex?” I ask, stepping closer to her. “Do you hate my fucking that much?”
I shouldn’t care whether she hates it or not. Her pussy is my property to do with as I damn well please—but I do care. I want her to crave the feel of my dick moving inside her wet, warm depths. I need her to crave my touch. I need her to be addicted to me.
“It’s amazing most times,” she whispers, averting her gaze. “Sometimes you’re too rough and I bleed.”
“Good.” I grab her hand and press it into my erection. “I like your blood on my dick.”
“Hey, hot stuff!” A familiar voice intrudes on our intimate moment, instantly raising my hackles.
“Are you free tonight? I’ve been missing…
” Ivy’s smile falters when she spots Zilphia.
I took her to pound town once, and she’s been on my nuts ever since.
I thought about slinging some more dick her way, but she became too damn clingy for my liking. “Oh, she still around?”
“Yeah, she is,” Zilphia snaps, glaring daggers at her. Do I detect a hint of jealousy? Only one way to find out.
“For now, but the clock is ticking,” I lie. My dick doesn’t get hard for other women anymore. “Where’s my hug?”
Ivy sprints across the concrete floor and launches herself into my arms. I slide my hands to her ass and squeeze, never taking my eyes off Zilphia. The dark scowl on her face confirms what I already suspected—she’s jealous.
She leaps to her feet. “What the hell, Sandman?”
I place Ivy on her platform heels and press a lingering kiss on her neck. “I’ll meet you at the clubhouse at eight. Wear something sexy.”
“Anything for you, baby,” she purrs, shooting Zilphia a triumphant smirk before sashaying out of the garage.
“Tell me you’re not going to fuck that skank,” Zilphia demands, balling her fists at her sides.
I brush past her and enter the lobby area. “Camaro’s done,” I inform the purple-haired girl sitting behind the reception desk.
“Okay,” she chirps, picking up the receiver. “I’ll give Mr. Simmons a call and let him know.”
I continue to my office with a fuming Zilphia on my heels. “Answer me!” she yells, slamming the door shut behind her.
I take my sweet time settling behind my desk, just to piss her off a little more. “What I do doesn’t concern you.”
She rips off the respirator mask and launches it at me. I duck, and it smashes into the window behind me, shattering the glass. “So you can fuck any skank you want, but I can’t even look at another guy?”
“That is correct.” I lean forward, steepling my fingers together. “Unless you want him to lose his head.”
“Do you…” she draws in a deep breath, blinking back tears. “Do you feel anything for me at all?”
I cock my head to the side. “Are you asking me if I love you, Zilphia?”
Tears escape her eyes despite her efforts to hold them back. “Do you?”
I stand and walk around my desk, coming face-to-face with her. “Your name and the word love will never leave my mouth in the same sentence.” Because I can’t help my fucking self, I cradle her smooth, damp cheek in my large palm. “You were my first kiss. You were supposed to be my first everything.”
Zilphia leans into my touch. “What if that night never happened? Our lives would be so different.”
“What if?” I laugh mirthlessly. “What-ifs are shit. What-ifs don’t matter. What is does.”
She places a trembling hand over my heart. “What is can change.”
“No, it can’t.” I cover her hand with my own. “It’s not blood that pumps through my veins. It’s hate. I’ll always hate you, Zilphia. That’ll never change.”
“What about the baby?” she whispers, her pleading eyes boring into mine. “We both grew up in a household without love. We’ve both been abused. We can’t do that to our child.”
“I would never hurt our child!” I tear away from her, anger thrumming through me. “Our child will be loved and cared for.”