13 #2
“Not tired like that.” She lets out a loud sigh.
“Just tired. Can you please just get it over with? Just kill me, okay?” Her two sparking blue-green eyes, made even more sparkling by her contact lenses, look up at me.
“I don’t want to go to the cell. I don’t want them to film me or have me torn apart by dogs.
” Her voice thickens. “I know you hate me. But if there’s any part of you that…
” She swallows. “Please, Logan. I know I don’t deserve it.
But can’t you take pity on me? Can’t you… kill me yourself?”
“I don’t think any of that is going to happen, Lia,” says Everest. “Logan wouldn’t let that happen. Would you, Logan?”
“Both of you, shut up,” I snap. “Come on, Lia. Last chance.”
But she merely stares up at me, so, hissing out all my frustration, I topple her over my shoulder.
“Logan!”
A peal of laughter makes me glance at Aurora, who’s looking at her mother as though it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.
“Piggyback mama!” she cries out. “Piggyback mama!”
Somehow, the laugh loosens the tension in my chest. I let myself smirk as I lead the way to the rooms Armando told us we could use.
There are two bedrooms, small but much nicer than the Oakley motel we’d been staying at before. And obviously, there’s no comparing them to the abandoned warehouse.
Though I start regretting that place when Armando pokes his head in without knocking. “Aren’t you bringing her to the cell?”
“Later.”
Lia lets out a whimper, and a second, louder one when Armando grins, showing off a row of yellow-grey teeth. “Guess you want to enjoy her first.” He winks again. “I’ll leave you to that.”
“Asshole,” growls Everest when Armando has retreated.
“Take that bedroom with the kid,” I tell him, pointing to one of the two rooms. Then I look down to the floor, where Lia has dropped, hugging her knees to her chest.
“Shouldn’t Aurora sleep with her mom?” questions Everest.
“I don’t think the cell is really the place for a kid, do you?”
His brow furrows. “Fuck you, man. That’s not funny.”
“Who said it was?”
Sometimes, I hate having him along. I really hate it. Because no matter how many guys he’s seen me kill, he doesn’t for one minute accept that I’ve hardened. Usually, I don’t care. But right now, I do not want him making me come off as soft in front of Lia.
Luckily, Aurora chooses that moment to start whining. “Milk, mama! Milk! Hungry!”
Lia makes a small movement to go get her, but she doesn’t half try. I guess she, at least, doesn’t believe I’m secretly soft. I’m sure she doesn’t doubt for a second that she’s bound for the cell.
That should make me happy, and it does. But there’s also an uncomfortable lump in my throat that I do my best to swallow.
“Get the kid some food, Everest.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Just don’t be a jerk, okay?”
I ignore him, but as he opens the door, I call out, “Everest!”
“Uh huh?”
“Here. Take this.”
I toss a gun to him and he catches it in his free hand. “Fuck, man! Careful! I’m holding Aurora! Why do I need a gun anyway?”
I shrug off his protest. “Just look out for the kid. Okay?”
The door closes behind them, and I do my best to keep my eyes averted from Lia.
I can only assume how nervous, but also, confused she is.
I’m just as confused as her. Why the hell do I care what happens to that kid?
I would never hurt a child, but what’s it to me if someone else does?
Especially that child, whom I spent the past two years wishing had never been born.
“Logan,” begins Lia at last.
“Shut up.”
I go to the mini-fridge in a corner of the room and grab a beer. For all the shittiness that comes with working for the family, at least, you can always be sure of a good cold beer. I pop off the cap then settle down on the chair opposite the bed, taking a long swig.
I do my best to keep my eyes away from her, and to focus on my phone, on the messages I’m exchanging with Damien.
He’s been keeping me in the loop of his plans to find the killer with Coltello.
But out of the corner of my eye, I see her sitting on her knees on the floor, her hands in her lap.
She’s still wearing only my leather jacket, but it’s so big on her that it covers everything.
Only it’s not zipped up, and now that she’s sitting down, I can just make out her breasts underneath.
“Take it off.”
She looks at me in surprise.
“The… the jacket?”
“Yeah. Take it off. Now.”
Slowly, she starts to peel it off. Then she pauses. “Am I going to the cell after?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
She tilts up her face, trying to look brave, but I can tell her chin is trembling. “I’ll take off the jacket if you don’t lock me in the cell after.”
I snort. “You really think you have that kind of power, Lia? You have no power. You’re my captive.
I can do whatever I want with you, and if you think letting me fuck you can save you…
” I feel myself getting angry as I speak.
“You’re a real slut, aren’t you? Have you ever fucked anyone in your life without an ulterior motive?
” I grab at the collar of the jacket, twisting it so that it pushes into her neck, lightly constricting her breathing. “Have you, Lia? Have you?”
“N-n-no, Logan,” she chokes out at last, and I let her go.
“Whatever happens now isn’t going to change what happens later,” I tell her. “I’m not going to force you like that. Either take off the jacket or not. Accept my cock or not. Up to you. Say red a million times if you feel like it. It won’t change my mind about the cell.”
I gulp down more beer. “So I guess that means you won’t take it off, huh?”
She stares up at me for a moment and then—slowly removes the jacket.
I sit up straight, hungrily looking at her perky tits, her flat stomach with just a hint of stretchmarks, the thighs that have gotten thicker since she was in high school, the pink cunt between them.
“Turn around, Lia,” I croak. “Stand up and turn around.”
She takes her time to obey. But at last she’s facing the opposite wall, and my breath catches when I take in the ass that she was furious at me for calling fat.
It’s definitely not small. Not anymore. She has two round, creamy globes, sprinkled with freckles, with a hint of cellulite on the bottom.
And when I smacked them this morning, the way they bounced…
fuck. Just the memory of it makes my dick swell.
“Spread them, Lia.”
“Spread… them?”
“Take your ass cheeks and spread them,” I say impatiently. “Let me see your little hole.”
I never noticed that her shoulders also blush when she’s embarrassed. But they’ve definitely grown red, making the ghostly paleness of her back and ass even more jarring.
“Now, Lia. Do it now. Be a good girl for me.”
Those last words are the ones that have her obeying. She grabs her butt cheeks and parts them, and the little whimper she makes turns me on just as much as the vision of her stark-naked, her ass spread and waiting for me.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, standing up and closing the distance between us. I bring a hand to her folds, swiping at them and smirking to find her already wet. “You’re my very good girl, Lia, aren’t you?”
“Y-y-yes, Logan…”
This time, she doesn’t jump when I bring a finger to her crack, stroking her up and down. “I’m not letting you get out of this again. Your cute little asshole is going to get what’s coming to it. Got it, brat? And don’t you dare let go of your cheeks.”
She stands on tiptoes as I begin to steadily apply more pressure to her bottom hole. My other hand is still toying with her clit, and I notice that calling her a good girl and a brat both seem to have the same effect on her. She’s soaked.
“Are you going to… to put a finger in there?” she gasps.
I apply more pressure to her hole. “You’re lucky you’re not getting my cock yet, Lia. Just my fingers. Say, thank you, sir.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I leave her clit to pinch at the bruise I left on her ass. She squeals.
“Say, thank you, sir.”
“Th-th-thank you!”
I pinch harder, twisting the flesh cruelly between my fingers.
“Sir! Sir!” she yelps. “Thank you, sir!”
She pants hard when I let up, and releases her butt cheeks. But she grips them again hurriedly when she feels my fingers back on her sore spot.
I start playing with her pussy again, and she lets out a relieved sigh, then whimpers when I bring my other hand back to her crack.
“Aren’t you going to use lube?” she groans, as I push my finger against her hole.
“No lube for my little brat,” I breathe into her ear. “What’s the fun in it if it doesn’t hurt?”
“Logan!” she protests, and yet I notice that the crueler I am, the wetter she gets. And she’s still not saying red.
“My little pain slut,” I rasp, dragging my finger up and down her crack one last time before I push it into her bottom.
“Ow! Fuck!”
“Language, Lia.”
She opens her mouth to speak again, but I start thrusting into her, settling into a punishing pace that has her standing on tiptoes again. “Logan… ow… it hurts!”
Her pussy is absolutely drenching my hand. I can feel it squeeze around nothing, and she actually moans in relief when I push a finger into it.
“Ow! You’re hurting me! Asshole!”
“Want me to stop, Lia?”
I can tell she doesn’t. It’s not pride that makes her snap her mouth shut. She’s enjoying it, and it kills her that she is.
Suddenly, I’m just as desperate to please her as I am to hurt her.
Not because I want to please her. But it’s addictive to watch the tears spring to her eyes, the red suffusing her cheeks, when she realizes her body is betraying what her mind can’t accept.