Chapter 11 Mackenzie
My fingers curl into his blood-slick leather jacket as my head lolls back against the chest of drawers behind me.
The room is spinning; this has taken a dark, dangerous turn, but every fiber of my being is electric, alive, and I don’t want it to stop.
I should despise him—but I can’t bring myself to. Every touch, every move scorches away any resistance. His fingers curl inside me, igniting a fire that consumes all rational thought.
“Yes.” The word escapes my lips in a breathy pant, my toes curling tightly in my sneakers.
He strikes just the right spot, sending a jolt through me, making me bite down on my lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
“Don’t stop.” My voice is a whisper, a plea lost in the heat of the moment.
His fingers move in circles, massaging my clit with a deadly precision that makes my body quake. He quickens the pace, and I pull him closer, fighting the inevitable wave of pleasure that threatens to consume me.
“Give it to me.” His command is a growl, thick with lust and desire.
His fingers thrust into me, pumping in and out with a rhythm that sets my body ablaze.
I feel like I’m burning and freezing all at once.
When the orgasm hits, it’s a storm—not gentle, nor calm—tearing through me with lightning speed.
The pounding of my heart and how wet he makes me are the only sounds that fill my ears.
“Ohh…fuck…” I groan, my body convulsing as he holds me through the waves of ecstasy.
My knees nearly buckle when he whispers, “Look, how good your pussy is for me, so fucking good, ma belle ame.”
When he slips his hand out of my jeans, he holds up his glistening fingers between us. “Now, open that pretty mouth and taste your filthy lies.”
He presses his fingers past my lips, sliding over my tongue—the taste of copper, him, and myself mingling in an overwhelming sensation.
I moan around his fingers, feeling his body tense, his thick bulge pressing hard against my stomach. He pumps his fingers into my mouth, murmuring his dark, sordid thoughts.
“I’m going to fuck you until my name is etched into every bone of your body, just like yours is on mine,” he rasps, his voice a low growl that sends another wave of heat through me.
I can feel my wetness trickling down my thighs.
He snaps open the button of my jeans, ripping the zipper down with such force I think it might break.
They slide down my thighs, pooling around my ankles.
I could stop this right now. And honestly, I should.
Because in a minute, it won’t just be him toying around in my head anymore, making my fantasies run wild; it will be me crossing a line.
It will be me jumping off the highest building in hell and right into his arms—the arms of the monster that murdered my friends.
But frankly, I don't give a shit. Fuck Gavin. Fuck Tiffany. May they burn in hell. May they rest in the pieces they brought upon themselves.
As Daxton kneels before me, his crystal eyes lock onto mine, piercing through me.
He lifts my feet, one foot after the other, slowly slipping off each shoe, giving me the opportunity to stop this anytime I want to…
but I don't. My lacy panties are next and still I don’t stop him, allowing them to fall to the pile at my feet.
Lips curving into a satisfied smirk, he draws closer.
“Vicious little thing, aren't you?” he purrs.
I don’t have time to respond before his cool mouth finds my center. He hums his pleasure, his tongue trailing over my clit.
“Ohh…shit.” My moan echoes through the room, and someone pounds on the door behind me, but I can’t make out who it is, and he doesn’t care either.
His tongue swirls faster as he lifts my right thigh onto his shoulder.
I stand on my toes, fingers threading through his hair as I hold on for dear life.
Shock surges through me, and I gasp when he lifts my other leg over his shoulder, hoisting me into the air as he stands.
His fingers grip my hips almost bruisingly, ensuring I don’t fall, but all I can focus on is the way his tongue moves.
It splits down the middle, both sides writhing against my clit, licking in unison, while the piercing in the center of it sends tremors through my body. His soft lips draw my throbbing clit into his mouth in a succession of pops that make the edges of my vision blur.
“Ohhhh!” My eyes roll back as my tug his platinum locks harder. “Oh, fuck.”
“Mmm.” His lips vibrate against me, and my leg spasms, locking straight as he begins to move, his boots thumping against the hardwood floor, splashing in pools of cooling blood.
His head rests against my stomach while he continues to devour me.
He can’t see, but somehow he never stumbles, never trips, as if he can sense everything around us.
Only once I’m a shaking, trembling mess does he decide he’s had enough of me being his human necklace. He tugs me from his neck, setting me down on Gavin’s bloody desk, his lips glistening with my arousal.
My heartbeat thrums in my chest as I struggle to catch my breath.
Pools of blood are all around us, there are body parts strewn all across the floor, and somehow I don’t care—it’s almost cathartic. And all I can think about is how badly I want him inside me.
His bloody hand trembles as he smooths my tangled hair, his breath cool on my ear. “Do you want this, Mackenzie?” he whispers, his voice a raspy growl.
I nod because right now it is safer than my voice.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Let me hear you. You give up your lies so easily, let me hear your truths.”
“I want this,” I whisper.
He chuckles. “Finally, some truth.” He begins to unbuckle his belt. The metal clanks ominously, and I feel my heart kick into a gallop, pounding against my ribs like a trapped animal.
My eyes flick to Tiffany’s severed foot, the hot pink heel still strapped to her cold flesh.
Gavin’s head lies a few feet away, his mouth open in a silent scream, eyes glazed over.
The room smells of copper and death, and yet, my body responded to the beautiful brutality, heat pooling between my legs.
‘Did he do this for me?’
“I did,” he replies, his fingers dancing across my body, settling between my thighs. “The only tears I want from you are those of ecstasy, never sadness.”
“I didn’t cry because I was sad,” I pant as it gets hard to concentrate. “I cried because I’m angry.”
“Well then, that’s far worse,” he purrs. “Because I want your anger too. I want every part of you that you give me. The gods are jealous, and I am no exception. Every part of you is mine—my living offering.”
Now would be a good time to run.
“Do you think I’d let you?” he says beneath a smug smirk.
He traces a line up my sternum, his fingers wrapping around my neck, pressing me back against the desk—the cool, tacky blood soaks into my shirt.
“Stop doing that.” My words come out on a whimper that overshadows my conviction.
“Doing what?” He cocks a brow, and I don’t ever think I’ve seen a man so beautiful.
“Reading my thoughts.”
“That’s kind of hard to do when they’re so loud.” He smirks. “Plus, how else would I know you think I’m beautiful?"
I can feel my cheeks start to burn, and I cover my face to hide my shame—the shame of wanting this beautiful monster as badly as I do. Cool fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging my hands from my face. “Don’t hide from me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
His hand follows the curves of my body, gripping my hip before he unzips his pants, the sound of metal against metal echoing in the grim room—his thick head pressing against me, slick and ready.
“Dios mío,” I moan, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
“No matter what language you say it in, I’m still not your God,” he growls in the most perfect Spanish I’ve ever heard, his voice like rolling thunder.
My vision swims, his words crashing over me like waves. I look down between us, eyes widening at the sight of him, thick and pulsing. Black veins run along his length, and small spheres lie just under the surface of his skin along the bottom. It’s brutal, vicious, just like him.
I try to scramble away, my blood running cold.
“Are you fucking insane!?” I cry, fear gripping me. “That’s not going to fit.”
He tugs me back, lifting my trembling leg onto his shoulder. “You were made for me, belle ame,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “You are the reason it’s like this. If you relax, it will fit, or”—he grins devilishly—“I’ll make it.”
As he presses into me, my body arches off the desk, electric bolts shooting through me. Pleasure. Pain.
“Fuckkk,” he groans as if he’s found his home, his usual frustratingly cocky glint in his eyes melting away. His brows draw together before he bites down on his lip, hard enough for his fangs to cut into it. “You feel so fucking good, so damn tight. Shit,” he hisses.
I can’t even comprehend what he’s saying anymore. I go cross-eyed as he pulls out to the tip and slams into me again.
“Yeah, there you go, pretty baby.” His words are a low rumble that tightens my core—my body at war with his, pulsing, stretching, dying to accommodate him.
A high-pitched sound I’ve never made before escapes my lips with each roll of his hips. He hammers into me, crucifying me to the solid oak, the scent of blood and sex filling the air.
The feeling is better than any high, darkness and pleasure melding, passion and sin blurring into one. I don’t want it to end; the sweet oblivion of pain is like a thousand deaths blurring my vision.
I draw him closer, my leg trembling as he leans in to kiss me—my leg feels like it might snap, but I don’t stop him; he’s so deep I’m sure I’ll meet my maker presently.