18. Jackal
EIGHTEEN
JACKAL
On the outside, I was all vicious, raving beast, ready to bite her finger off the second she put it close enough.
Inside, I wanted this bitch to do to me what she did to my men.
And so much more.
The joke I’d made about her being unattractive, about not being able to make a man hard, they were all shattered in a heartbeat as my cock reminded me just how easily she could bend my body to her will. There was never a choice when it came to a woman who matched my freak. The insanity and brokenness within her eyes, the sadness buried in her soul, the burning, white-hot need for revenge—I was familiar with them all. Looking into her soul through those expressive windows was like seeing myself reflected at me, bared for the whole world to judge.
She was me and I was her, and fuck all if it wasn’t hotter than hell that she was willing and more than able to incapacitate me and torture me at the drop of a hat.
Hell, I couldn’t even really feel the burns on my scars anymore. The skin still ached, the soreness almost tissue-deep, but the pain was nothing compared to the barest likelihood that I might be able to taste this woman’s flesh before she offed me.
Fuck, I wonder if I can convince her to slit my throat while I come. Talk about a life-altering experience.
Her hand gripped me by the throat, and I finally gave in, loosing a yelp of excitement as those pretty, taloned fingers tightened around my neck, constricting my airway, leaving me gasping for air.
“Oh, yeah, baby, choke me. At least then I won’t have to look at you anymore.”
I didn’t mean a single one of the words I uttered. Fuck, if anything, I meant the opposite. But goading and angering her seemed the fastest way to get what I wanted.
Pain.
I wanted her brand of pain. I wanted a personal vendetta behind every twist, every stab, every hole she carved in me.
I wanted to know what rage at that level could do to a person. What damage it could cause. And how close that line danced on the edge of pleasure.
She’d awakened something in me. And I wanted more.
I knew what I was doing was callous. That it was harmful, both to her and to my own well-being. But I was unable to stop. I couldn’t veer back on course after jumping the tracks so spectacularly.
So I opened my mouth once more to insert my foot.
“You gonna stand there staring at me all day, or are you gonna kill me? The suspense is torture.”
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you,” she mused softly, her lashes dancing at the edges of her cheek. “I’m going to make your body betray you. I’m going to take the only thing you’re good for from you. And then, then, I’ll kill you.”
True to her word, those eyes cut back up to mine, and the way she looked right through me was enough to send a chill down my spine.
Checkmate. Bring it on, bitch.
Her nails raked down the side of my neck, scraping off a layer of skin as they went, the blood staining her pale, flawless hands like some sort of death omen. My groans met her sighs, and soon enough, she’d painted herself in the shade of my veins, a streak down her face, another across her exposed stomach, little smudges on her legs and arms like a fucked-up cross between a tiger and a leopard.
Fuck, it was hot to see someone wear my blood like war paint.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Where to even start?
“You think your buddies believe you’re not turned on by me? That you don’t secretly want what they had?” Her nose was an inch from mine, and I resisted the urge to snap it between my teeth, instead dragging my tongue along the bottom of my top row instead, teasing her with my self-control. “You think you’re convincing anyone with your bullshit claims?”
The blade trailed down my abs, and I sucked in a breath as she placed it atop my zipper, the tip making a metallic tinking as it traveled over tooth after tooth, stopping when it hovered just above my balls. I whimpered like a bitch when she pressed it in just the slightest, feeling my cock jump as her other hand moved to cover my length through my pants.
“Fuck,” I whispered, not even caring anymore if the guys were witness to my shame. “Get your hands off me, bitch.”
She took that as the invitation it was and down went my zipper as her hand yanked my length free for all the room to admire.
Shit, I was so hard. Her hand was so soft, it felt like someone had wrapped my cock in a bunch of flower petals, and I wanted more than anything in the world to see what it’d feel like to be jacked off by something this deceptively gentle.
As if reading my mind, she squeezed my length, and I groaned, not even bothering to hide the way I bucked into her touch.
“How embarrassing for you, Jackal. Such a defiant dog, melting like putty for the woman who promises to take his life.” She looked me over, admiring my cock, perhaps, as she contemplated the situation for a moment. “Does it make you angry that your body wants me, even if you don’t?”
Bold of her to assume I didn’t want her.
Fuck, if she kept her hand on my dick, or heavens above if she moved it, I might turn into the randy virgin teenager with his first taste of a woman’s body and paint her with my cum.
She’d look so pretty painted in my cum.
As if it had a mind of its own, my cock twitched again, a drop of precum beading at the tip. Her thumb slid over it, and I swore under my breath, refusing to look in the direction of the other two she’d trussed up and whipped for her pleasure. I didn’t want them to see what I hid in my eyes. Nobody could ever find out what lie within the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
Not even me.
“Fuck you, bitch,” I growled, hoping she believed this little performance I’d put on for her. Praying I’d read her right.
The sadist inside her was just begging to be turned loose. And my recently discovered masochist side sang to her like a moth to a flame.
“Do your worst.”
There was no preamble, no warning, just sweet relief as she shoved me sideways, and my head bounced off the concrete floor, making me see double for a moment. Fuck, she was rough.
“You like pain, do you, dog?”
Her boot landed in my side as she kicked me, once, then a second time in the ribs a little further north. I felt the pain reverberate through the bone, and though I winced, I also groaned at the edge it gave to the pleasure. My cock, no longer in her hand, protested at the disappearance of that soft warmth, and she looked down at it in a strange sort of pity.
“It’s a shame that such a fine specimen is attached to such a shit man.”
Ouch.
“You’re just angry that you want it.” I hedged my bets, hoping I hadn’t gone too far.
“And what makes you think I want to fuck that thing between your legs?”
Okay, so that one might’ve been a little bit of a low blow. It left me a tad on the defensive, and I bared my teeth again, acting very much like the kicked dog she’d turned me into.
“Because you want what we’re not willing to give you. And the last thing I wanna do is fuck you.”
I knew the second I had her. It was in the way she leaned in, like her whole existence shifted to focus on me. The way she licked her lips as she eyed me, in obvious pain, lying on my side on the floor, and contemplated how to make me hurt more, even as she forced me to give her what she wanted—my body.
Too bad you can’t rape the willing.
Her hands shoved roughly at my chains, rolling me onto my back as she crawled up the length of my body, positioning herself above my still-bobbing erection. Fuck, I could feel the heat of her pussy on the tip of my cock, like some sort of eternal torture. So close, and yet so far out of reach. Entirely at her whim.
“I’m going to ride your cock until I come, but only one of us is going to enjoy this.”
Her eyes danced with promises that had me nearly ready to pass out from anticipation.
“And it won’t be you.”
She sank on me like a fucking demon, taking my whole, impressive length from tip to taint in a single movement that had me seeing stars. A soft moan of approval was the only sound she released, and then, like a fiery demon from hell, she began to move, and I was gone.