15. Cassius
fifteen
If fury were a color, it would be deep red, almost black. Toeing that line that you can’t come back from. I see it, the red, black seeping into the edges. I’m going to kill her. And I’m going to enjoy it.
Detective Larson sits across from me, leaning back in his chair, arms splayed wide.
I have no idea what he just said. I don’t care what he said. I’m going to kill her.
More words come out of Detective Larson’s mouth, but I’m not listening.
I’m planning her murder.
It’s only when he reaches out to shake my hand that I piece together the words. Sorry. Confusion. Free to go.
I don’t shake his hand. I’m a man on a mission.
I exit the precinct into the early morning light, using my hand to shield my eyes. After five hours of sitting under the dim and flickering lights in the interrogation room, the sunlight is blinding. Garrett pulls up beside me in his truck, and I climb in. He starts to say something, but one look at me changes his mind.
We drive back to the bar in silence. When we finally pull into the lot and I climb out, I can only manage a “Good work, G” to show my best friend my appreciation.
It’s all I have in me.
He nods in understanding.
The cleaning crew for the bar starts at 8 a.m. which gives me only a couple of hours to be alone before they start showing up. I let myself in and lock the door behind me before climbing the stairs to my office. I slow when I reach the landing, sunlight filtering into the hall through my office window, the door ajar.
Cautiously, with the stealth of a fucking gorilla, which is to say no stealth at all, I step over the threshold. Ruby sits back in my chair, her red bottomed heels propped on my desk. She spins a small black dagger on my desk, the blade digging into the wood, similar I think to how she pictures killing me. I close the door behind me and stand there, my feet sprouting roots. She stops the dagger mid-spin, lifting it into the air a moment before I hear the whistling beside my ear. The dagger clangs when it hits the metal door, hurling itself out of reach. I reach up to touch my ear, my fingers coming away wet and sticky with blood. She kicks off her heels, and they fall to the floor with a soft thud.
The world turns from deep red to midnight black.
Fire burns within me, prickling my skin and propelling me forward. My body slams into hers before she can react. The chair rolls across the floor, and we crash into the wall, a mess of limbs and splintered wood. Drywall dust clouds my vision long enough for Ruby to slip from my grasp. She circles behind me and kicks the back of my knee, forcing me to the ground. The move is practiced and swiftly delivered.
Cold steel presses against my neck. Her warm breath grazes my ear.
“Look at you on your knees,” she purrs. “You wish it were me.” It’s a statement, not a question, and I would be lying if I said she was wrong.
“You fucking cunt,” I say through gritted teeth, and I ram my fist backwards to meet her nose.
Pain pierces my neck, but only for a split second. The heat of Ruby disappears, and I stand, turning around to face her. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, blood smearing across her menacing smile. Her tongue swipes across her lips. Memories of her licking my cum off them rush through me.
I push the thoughts down, burying them in the dark recesses of my mind. I stare at her, gauging my situation.
“Tsk-tsk.” She shakes her finger, scolding me in a way that only a teacher at a boarding school could. Something plummets into my right thigh, and for a moment I am dazed, completely enamored by her skill at misdirection. When I look down, a throwing knife sticks out of my leg—black with a circle at the hilt and a red gem gleaming at the end.
“What else are you hiding up that skirt?” I challenge her, pulling the dagger from my leg. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I don’t let it show. I spin the dagger around my finger. Soon my walls will be painted red with blood. Only one of us will leave this room alive.
Practiced fingers walk up her leg, lifting her skirt up to reveal the garter, three more daggers within its grasp. I take a step toward her, slow and deliberate, committed to a game I’m not sure I can win. She’s a statue. Not even her breathing disturbs her stillness. Another step, another dagger, this one grazes my arm, but I don’t shift my gaze from hers.
One down, two more to go.
“I’m going to kill you slowly, I think,” I tell her. “Take my time with you. Watch your blood as it spills from your veins and turns black on this floor.”
Another step.
Another dagger. This one misses completely. This is progress.
“I’ll probably have my way with you first. Pound that pussy of yours into submission.” I tell myself that I’m only playing the game, but she takes a small, uneasy step backwards. I wonder if anyone has ever challenged her the way I have. If anyone but me has ever made her stumble before.
“Your hands tied to the radiator over there, my fist in your hair.”
Another step.
Another dagger soars. It goes wide. The air in the room shifts.
An assassin of her stature, I doubt she ever misses.
Her hand flies to her mouth. Big brown eyes stare at me for a moment too long. A moment I use to close the distance between us. A bare foot kicks out at my chest, but I’m ready for it. My hand wraps around it hard enough to leave bruises if she lives. I yank hard.
The queen falls.
Her back hits the floor, dark hair spilling out around her. Her tits rise and fall with each breath she takes, her nipples hard, pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt. A surprised cry leaves her mouth, still red with blood.
My eyes roam her body, and I drink her in, like the top shelf liquor she is. When I make my way back up to her face, her hungry eyes stare into mine.
She uses one foot to kick into my thigh, right where her dagger speared me. I wobble, but don’t fall. She swipes at my other leg, and I crash next to her with a thud.
She pulls herself to her feet quickly, putting space between us once again.
“You fucking bitch,” I growl.
“Did you really think you could keep me down? The fucking queen who feeds off shit stains like you?”
I force myself up to my feet and cross the room to her in three strides. Her hands search her thigh for another dagger, but they’re gone. I push her against the wall, my hand around her throat, sliding her up until we’re face to face. Her legs kick at me, and her hands claw at my arms.
I really want them to claw down my fucking back.
I press closer to her, and her assault on me stills. She inhales sharply, stealing my breath from inside my chest.
My lips brush against hers when I speak again. “So, tell me, Queen, how’s it feel to be bested? Do you still want to kill me? Or should I tie you to the radiator now?”
Strong bare legs wrap around my waist, effectively holding her up. I loosen my grip on her throat, and her tongue slides between my lips. I swallow her kiss. It’s all consuming and soul crushing. I start to pull away, but her teeth sink into my lower lip, pulling me back in. My cock hardens, reveling in the sting. The taste of copper passes between us.
Her tongue dances across mine, forceful and angry. My hard dick rubs against her, and she bites my lip harder. Her nails dig into the graze on my arm, the pain causing me to let go of her. She tries to wriggle her body away from me, but she’s snug between me and the wall.
She pushes at my chest and then throws a punch at my face. I dodge it, taking a few steps back. Her feet hit the floor with a soft thud. Grabbing one of her hands, I twist her around until her back is flat against my chest.
Releasing her hand, I wrap one arm around her shoulders to keep her still.
I trail my lips down her neck, and she shudders against me. My free hand explores her body, palming her breasts and sliding over her stomach, a heat seeking missile on track to find that sweet spot.
“You wet for me, Ruby?” I ask her, taking her earlobe between my teeth.
My fingers find their way beneath her skirt, a surprise waiting for me.
“No panties today?” A sharp intake of breath is the only response I get.
I slide a finger between her folds and am awarded with another whimper.
I don’t prime her. That single finger is the only warning she gets before I thrust two fingers inside her clenched pussy. Her body sinks into me. Releasing her shoulders, I palm her tits, her ass grinding against my cock. My fingers drive in and out of her, hard and fast, and she rides them with fervor.
I don’t let up as I shift us closer to my desk. It’s only when I bend her over it that my fingers leave her warmth.
“Don’t fucking move,” I snarl. I push her skirt up over her ass. Her perfect fucking ass that I can’t help but spank. I use one hand to undo my pants and the other to leave my mark. She tries to roll to her back, but I press my palm between her shoulder blades, pushing her back down.
“I said, don’t fucking move.” Taking a step back, I admire the picture before me, my beautiful surrendering queen. I grip my cock, tempted to make her lay there while I pleasure myself, if only to coat her in my cum.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you surrender,” I tell her through gritted teeth as I stroke myself. Her back arches, lifting her hips just so, silently begging me to bury myself deep. It seems I’m not the only one who can’t help myself. Digging my fingers into her hips, I shove my cock into her waiting cunt in a single thrust. Fuck me. She feels as good and as tight as I imagined she would.
My head drops back in ecstasy, “Fuck, Ruby.”
I am not gentle as I pound into her, my balls slapping at her clit with each thrust. Our chorus of moans fill the room, sticky like the blood that coats us. Reaching forward, I grab her wig, tugging hard. I need to know what beauty hides beneath the disguise. Nails dig at my hand, and I let go, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up. She fiddles around her hairline for a minute, then pulls off the wig, flinging it across the room.
Ruby red hair spills over her shoulders, rendering me still.
She places her palms flat on my desk and turns her face back to me, “Now pull,” she commands.
I don’t hesitate. I wrap her red hair around my fist and pull. Her back arches as I pummel her pussy. Her hands reach out, gripping the other edge of my desk. She cries out in pleasure; her ass tightens and her tight pussy clenches around me. Fuck. Me.
“Not yet, baby,” I tell her, “I want to see your face when you come on my cock for the first time.”
Need to see her face.
I pull out of her and flip her over. She pushes me back and climbs down from the desk. She fists my cock with a vise like grip.
Her hand on my dick guides me to the couch. “Sit the fuck down,” she orders.
And I do, because she’s the queen, and I’m one orgasm away from worshiping her on her fucking throne.