Chapter 37
Ann-Marie
T yler had that glint in his silver eyes. The kind of glint I hadn't seen in years, but I recognized it. It was sinister, and my body shivered from the sight of it. But it was also part of why I found him so sexy when I first met him, despite myself.
I remember, it was night when we first met. I was twenty-four, and I'd been locked away in a dark, acrid room in a decrepit old house that got cold and eerie at night, for so long. My captor had pulled me out, stuck a filthy gag in my mouth, and unhooked my chain from the floor I'd laid on every night for what had felt like forever as he hit me, hurt me, abused me. I knew he was going to kill me that night. Except, he didn't. He'd carried me to this mansion as I cried behind my mouth-gag, begging him to let me go. He was going to sell me for a pretty penny. At least that's what he thought.
Until Tyler walked out. Drop dead gorgeous. Chiseled jawline, dusted dark blond beard, blond hair swooped up in a slightly messy coif, and piercing silver and menacing eyes. Young too, around twenty-eight. He was wearing a fitted 'made for him' beige suit, white collared button-down on the inside, brown shoes and brown tie against his ivory skin. A brown watch sat on his wrist, and his cologne had slapped me in the face harder than any man ever had.
I wasn't sure what to do with myself. He would be my buyer, and while that terrified me, some sick, twisted part of me, deep down which had been fucked up by all the abusers in my life, was aroused by the idea. My heart had skipped a beat, the pulse beneath my wrist fluttered, between my legs twitched.
He'd turned to look at me, bound by my wrists, stained and dirty on my knees, a torn up pale pink dress that I'd been wearing on the night I was captured hanging off my body, and his skin had flushed. His jaw had set. And he gulped before turning cool eyes from me to my captor.
"Trust me, she's a sexy little thing when she's all cleaned up." My captor laughed.
Tyler's eyes had darkened. He beckoned to one of his men, and they handed him a gun. My captor's breathing grew rapid. I couldn't tell you what his physical reaction looked like because my eyes were set on Tyler and that gun. What the fuck was happening?
"Where's my money?" Tyler had asked.
"Look man, I don't have it. But I got you something better." The captor grinned.
Tyler looked at me and his chest expanded. After a beat, he turned back to my captor.
"Who told you that I was someone you could sell a woman to?" he asked, in his cool, disarming way.
"Come on, man." He raised his hands in a gesture. "I know your type likes this sort of shit." My captor was so cocky and full of himself.
Tyler smiled and raised his brows. "What type is that?" he'd asked.
I was looking between the both of them, trying to work out what would happen next. Should I run? Who would kill me first?
My captor had stuttered before letting out a breath. "Look, man. She's worth good money. Test drove her myself. If she ain't the kinda girl you'd go for, you can always trade her off to someone else. Or pass her around..."
Bang.
A shot had punctuated his words, and I turned to look at my captor flat on his back, blood pouring out of the wound in his head. I started to scream, but it was muffled. Tyler walked over to the man and searched through his pockets. My legs didn't work. I couldn't get up and run. He started walking over to me, and my body shook beyond my control.
"Shhhh," he said and stooped before me. "I'm going to remove this, but you have to promise me you won't scream, okay?"
From the corner of my eye, his men took up my captor's body like it was another day at work, hauling him like a log off to 'who knows where'. It was just me and Tyler left, and when he removed the gag, I should have screamed. I wanted to. I told myself that I would, but I hadn't. I stared at him speechless as he smiled at me. That glint was still in his eye after his kill, but his smile was warm, his fingers as they brushed across my skin were gentle.
"Now, what kind of man does this to a woman?" He sighed and took me in from head to toe with a head shake.
I realized at that moment that I didn't want his pity. I wanted him. And that horrified me.
"Come inside. Let's get you cleaned up and you can tell me all about you." He unlocked the metal handcuffs and hissed at the bruising, before extending his hand.
I eyed it and looked behind me.
"You're not in danger here." He'd leaned down to whisper, and I jumped from the warmth of his breath against my skin. I didn't think it was a sexual gesture; he was trying to be playful after he'd just shot someone in front of me. And my body was raw from everything my captor had wrought on it. I staggered back, and he stood upright in an instant.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Do you want to come in? Get a shower, some food and a night's rest, or do you want me to call you a cab?" he asked.
My lips failed to do anything but tremble. When I didn't make an effort to move, he reached down, picked me up and carried me into the house as if we were already married and he was carrying me over the threshold.
For days, I hadn't spoken, unable to process the circumstances that had led me to the mansion where he had not forced himself onto me, made sure I was fed and taken care of, gave me his clothes to wear, came in to check on me from time to time, and took pieces of my heart with him as he'd left. Then one night, he had come in, that same glint in his eyes, and a cut across his arm.
When my eyes dropped to it, he'd chuckled. "Things got a little chaotic," he'd said but I handled it.
"You killed him?" Words left my mouth and his eyes went wide.
"So, you do speak." That was his answer. His lips turned up into a smile that had my heart going wild. He had just killed someone and here I was blushing like a buffoon because he smiled at me.
He'd stepped away from the doorway and moved closer to my bed.
"I like your voice. It's sexy." His voice rumbled and my breath caught. "So are you going to finally tell me your name?"
"A-..." I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders, coaching myself on bravery. "Ann-Marie."
He repeated it and let it roll off his tongue right onto me. Tyler moved closer still and my cheeks flushed. My heart hammered.
"So, I guess now you can tell me where you're from and we can get you back home. Or..." He reached out and for the first time since we'd met, he touched me. My bony chest to be exact and he trailed a finger down the top button on the button down he'd given me to sleep in.
This man lived in a mansion. I knew that he could afford new pairs of clothes for me, but I guessed he was still frugal enough not to spend money on someone who wasn't going to be in his life for long. At least that was my reasoning for him giving me his older shirts to sleep in, which smelled so much like him, I anticipated his return every night.
"...you could just stay." His heated gaze had met my eyes. It was mixed with the devilish bad boy that I couldn't resist, that had just killed someone, and desire...for me.
I swallowed and when I didn't resist, he plucked me from the bed and held me against him. "Tell me I'm not the only one who's been wrestling with this longing since the moment you stepped foot in my life."
"Wh-what?" I stuttered, my thick nipples against my chest boring into his hard body.
I was accustomed to being grabbed by men and having them take what they wanted from me. Automatically I had gone limp; fighting helped nothing. They still took what they wanted anyway.
He must have seen the fear in my eyes, because his jaw slackened and his hold around me loosened.
"I'm sorry." He put me down. "I shouldn't have done that."
I don't know what I was thinking when he turned to walk away and I grabbed his hand. It was on then. He'd picked me up, torn his shirt from my body and made it impossible to walk away from him ever again.
But, I had. Several mind-blowing fucks later, when the guilt was too much to bear and the reality that I was sleeping with a murderous mob boss kept creeping in.
He'd changed for me and I hadn't seen that glint in his eyes for a while.
There's always love.
But there's something about that way he gets after a kill that makes the fucking so powerful, I can't say I don't miss it. The danger is sexy, but wrong. I know it is.
Tyler
Oh, my wife is mad. I know she is because she'd given me the silent treatment on the way home and won't even look at me now, as we sit across the dinner table, eating. Which sucks ass, because I had something to give her. I wanted to fuck her until she was unable to breathe. Till we were both limp and lifeless. Taste her skin, suck on her breasts, her clit, celebrate my kill. Not that she'd know that's what it was all about.
"I'm sorry," I say, for the third time since we left the clinic.
She looks up from the plate of food she's been moving her fork around.
"I needed you with me. It was hell reliving the kidnapping." She finally meets my eyes and I can see the pain, still there now, years after I killed that bastard.
So relieved she's speaking to me, I jump up from my seat, abandon my food and fall at her feet.
"I'm sorry. You know how I get when I think about that piece of shit. There would have been no hiding it from the therapist." I ball my fist.
She swallowed and took a shuddering breath. "Where did you go?"
I stiffened. "I had some business to take care of."
"Business that had you changing your clothes, Tyler?" she asked, in that annoyingly perceptive way.
I wrapped my arms around her perfect ass, from the need to distract her and because I was unable to resist being this close to her when all I'd wanted to do since picking her up was to slam my hips against her hips until she was howling my name.
"Yeah, the meeting ended early." I groaned as I met her lips with mine. "Went home, got changed..."
She pushed me off. Strong as hell for a thin woman.
"You're lying to me." Ann-Marie hopped up from her seat, but we weren't arguing tonight. And if we were, we could multi-task.
"What if I am?" I pulled her back against my body, moving her long, full, luscious, brown curly hair from her neck so I could press my lips against her pulse.
She panted and pulled at my arm. I wasn't holding her tight. If she really wanted to, she could get away.
"Are you going to tell me that you don't find all of this sexy?" I gripped her breasts beneath her white boxy T-shirt dress.
My wife’s thick dark brown nipples against her butterscotch mounds were made for my mouth. Her brown skin was like a hot cup of milky cappuccino that I needed to sip on.
"All of what, Tyler?" She breathed, though she attempted to pull away, but I slammed her against me again and she moaned. "Tyler." She panted. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. Why don't you focus on what I want to do to you?" I spun her around and pressed my lips against hers.
Walking her into the table, I cleared it of plates and forks, and all the unnecessary shit. She gasped from the crash, popping her lips off mine to look at the mess. But when she looked back at me, she was on fire.
Ann's hands went for my shirt and she pulled it over my head. I shoved her back onto the mahogany dining table and her eyes danced. As I moved that dress up over her body, her arousal reached out and kissed me until I ached. She was wearing nothing but white lace panties. Her perfect nipples were stiff and ready for my lips.
Cock hard as fuck beneath my pants, I pressed it against her center as I went for her breasts, ravishing them and growling when she ran her hands through my hair before tugging on it. I licked and sucked her until the brown of her pinkened and she was sobbing.
One moment of eye contact and my head was between her legs; they were thrown over my shoulders and I was finger-fucking her hole while sucking on that clit. Oh, fuck. My head spun from how sweet she tasted. Her flavor could knock me unconscious.
I was dizzy when I brought my head up to look at her. Her eyes were feasted on mine as I slipped out of my pants and boxers in a split second, my cock throbbing and leaking in my hand.
"Fuck." I groaned; my eyes dropped to her pretty pussy. I was on her and in her in one motion. "You see what you do to me." I thrust, biting out the words as she tightened around me.
"Tyler." She cried.
I was crazed; the memory of the kill, the scent of the blood, the dumping of the bodies, all of it had a surge of electricity blasting to my cock. The taste of her pussy, her lips, her skin, her breasts, the way she moaned my name, fuck, the skin around my length was so fucking tight. And the friction of that wet pussy, oh, my, fucking, hell, it was insane.
I drove my hips into her. I gripped her neck and pressed my thumb right into that little dip below the larynx and watched her eyes go wide as her breath left her temporarily. She licked her lip and I smiled, dipping my head to kiss her there, lick her chin, plunge my tongue into her mouth, fucking her pussy so that the table rocked and groaned with us.
"Fuck, Tyler." Ann's face tensed and tears came to her eyes. "I'm going to cum!" She broke down.
I lost my breath and grabbed onto her hips, fucking her harder and faster, until she screamed her release. I wasn't far behind her. Hit like lightning, I spasmed and grabbed onto her hair, tugging her head back as my body wrestled with the racket of my orgasm. I poured myself inside her pink, raw, sweet hole, filling her up with my cum. Fuck, I was suspended in time for who the hell knew how long when she pushed me up off her.
With tears rushing down her cheeks, she grabbed her dress and took off running.
"Ann!" I called after her, but I was met with the slamming of our bedroom door.