Chapter 27
I dressed in new underwear and one of Dig’s clean t-shirts and hopped into bed. Night came cruising across the windows and Dig rammed the curtains closed. I sunk into the pillows and pulled the quilt over me.
A candlelight dinner, a hot bath, two orgasms and now a thousand thread count cotton sheets… this did not feel like the Execution Battle. This felt like a spa retreat.
I wondered how Fiona and Tommy were doing.
Since most of the inmates were consumed with hunting down Dig or myself, I hoped they were safe and able to make it to the suburbs on the outskirts.
I needed to get to them. Dig had endless water, food, medical supplies and weapons.
They were out there with nothing. Three days was enough to die from dehydration and if they were on the constant run, they needed food.
Dig blew out the candles in the bedroom, the only light came from the far window, under the curtain. A single prick of silver moonlight washed the floor in gentle dusk. Dig strolled to the other side of the bed and took off his sunglasses, setting them on the bedside table.
I squinted through the dark, unable to find any features on his face, only a faint outline of his sturdy jaw and his tousled hair.
Next, he tore off his jumper, flinging it to a chair.
In the twilight he twisted, and a spray of silver light shimmered over the arcs in his bare chest, highlighting dips in his muscular form.
“What are you doing?” I sat up.
“Do you want me to sleep in bed with you?” He peeled back the quilt. “Or should I sleep on the floor?”
There was a knife on the bedside table stand, weapons along his side of the floor. He had put a bell on the door so that if someone opened it from the other side it would ding.
“There’s only one bed in the apartment,” he said. “It’s safer to sleep next to each other. We’re in the middle of a battle to the death. Besides, I need to hear you if you try to sneak away in the night.”
“Sleep in the bed.” I patted the mattress. “I need you to rub my shoulder, I’ve got a kink.”
“I think you’ve got a lot of fucking kinks.”
“No, just in this shoulder.” I rotated my arm. “Do you have a silk pillowcase?”
“Huh?”
“I can’t sleep with a cotton pillowcase, they give you wrinkles.”
“I found you sleeping in a locker folded up like a pretzel.”
“Did you see a cotton pillowcase in there?”
He reeled back his shoulders. “I’ll go out and get you a silk pillowcase right this moment. What colour you want?”
“You shouldn’t.” I yawned. “It’s too late.”
He laid down.
“Actually, no, I do want one.”
He got up again.
“Oh, but it is too late.”
He laid down a second time.
“But I should really care for my skin.”
“I think I might just kill myself, save everyone the hassle.”
“Can you get me a glass of water?”
“You waited until I laid down to ask me for that didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
He got up and went to the kitchen and brought me back a glass of water, handing it to me and checked over his weapons making sure I had not stolen any.
I finished the water and waited until after he had laid down to hand the glass back to him. “I need more.”
I did not sleep. I laid on my side of the bed, hugging a pillow, eyes marked on Dig Graves who lay only inches away from me in the nest of darkness.
His silhouette faintly outlined, his chest moved gently up and down from languid breath.
I doubted he was asleep either. He was waiting for confirmation that I was asleep first.
I would not be able to leave the bed until he was asleep, I would also not be able to leave the room.
The bell on the door was screwed in and I was without a screwdriver. Opening the door would cause too much noise. I could not climb out of the window; we were up too far.
Leaving through a noisy door was my only option, but I needed him to be deaf to do it.
Or dead.
I wondered if it mattered… to kill a serial killer. Would that make me a bad person? To kill Dig Graves?
On his bedside table the knife glinted.
I would have to crawl over him to reach it.
I would have to kill him to leave.
My stomach swirled with dread, my mind packed with too much thought.
Tommy’s face came knocking on the doors in my head.
Could I kill for Tommy?
I had known Tommy for a long while now. Almost eight days. I could kill for him.
It was not difficult to feign sleep. I kept my breathing long and light, my limbs dead, my mouth slightly open.
Dig Graves believed it. He slept.
I claimed the blade from the bedside table.
My gut twisted as I looked to the door.
It would ring when I opened it, and my attempt would be in vain. There was no point in leaving this room unless Dig Graves was dead.
My hand shook, my throat heaved up a choke.
I sat on top of him, my legs on either side of his waist, leering over. The best position for sawing through a throat. It put me in a position of power. I settled the blade under Dig Graves jugular.
Under me his chest moved up and down softly.
I trembled.
Could I kill—
“Fuck!” He awoke.
I jolted as he did.
My trembling ceased and I held firm, keeping the blade locked against his throat, ready to slice, showing him what would occur if he dared move.
In the dusky dark I saw only the silhouette of his jaw and nose and mess of hair scatted onto the pillow.
I think his jaw clenched. Under me, his body tightened.
He remained still. Perfectly still. His hands did not risk grabbing me.
I let his skin taste the blade pressed tight up against his throat.
The sharp cold sting of metal spoke words I did not have to.
We stayed like this, quiet panic swirling between us. For once, he became the lamb for slaughter, and I was the wolf with a claw that could steal life in under a second.
My heart pounded frantically.
“It’s okay,” he whispered through the dark. His arms shifted.
“Don’t move!” I warned him.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Don’t move!” I flicked my eyes to his side where his fingers teased up my leg.
“Hey, hey, look at me.”
I ripped my head back to him, searching the dark for his face, finding nothing but the outline of his jaw.
“You can’t stop me,” I said to him almost shaking. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Okay.” He did not argue it. “You’re going to kill me. Sure.”
“I’m definitely going to kill you. Definitely.” I fixed my weight from how I sat on him. “I’m just going to do it in my own time. When I feel like it.”
Both of his hands felt up either side of my bare legs until they coasted around my rear.
“I swear I’ll do it,” I said down to him, keeping my voice cavernous and threatening. “If you try to stop me, I’ll cut you.”
“I’m not going to stop you.”
I was kind of hoping he’d stop me.
He slipped his hands through the sides of my underwear and held both of my ass cheeks in his hands, holding me on top of him as if I needed support.
Underneath me, something turned hard against my pussy.
His cock.
He was erect. Growing harder every passing second. In response I became wet. Our two sexual organs surged into each other through the fabric of my underwear and the fabric on his sweatpants.
“Is this…” I wriggled, heat pulsing through me. “Is this turning you on?”
He cleared his throat. “This is…kind of a fantasy of mine. Sorry, I’ll focus. I’ll try to focus.” Groaning he shifted his head in the pillow. “I'll try to think about cat’s or something.”
The press of his cock against my tingling wet made me grind against him. I pushed down, needing to feel the pressure of his cock against my most delicate area that ached to be touched.
Dig pulled his head up, probably to try to look at me through the dark. “Princess, what are you doing? Are we fighting or flirting?”
“Sorry.” I stopped grinding against him. “I'll try to focus too.”
“No,” he whispered. “You want it, don’t you?”
“No—yes—” I made sure I kept the blade firm against his neck.
He lifted his hips up and slowly grinded his cock between my open legs, giving me a sample of what I truly had been wanting.
Pure bliss sparked up from my open legs, I grinded back, closing my eyes, living in that single second that could have destroyed me. He moved again, rolling his hips, ensuring his massive erection pressed into every area between my legs, sparking the heat in me to turn into a furnace.
I lost a breath; I lost the knife.
“No!” Panic struck me down as I let the knife handle go.
Dig snatched it from where it had fallen and placed it back in my hand and helped me hold it back under his throat. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared. You’re in control.”
I swallowed down a shuddering breath.
He placed his hand back on my ass, giving it a soft tap. “Take it, take what you want.”
My wet need rampaged through any clarity I had, and I ignored Dig Graves assisting in my holding him hostage and listened to my desire.
I grinned against his erection as I held the knife across his throat, taking this for myself.
I did it again. He grabbed my ass cheeks, holding them as I moved.
I dry humped over him again and again, building the heat, building the sweet tension.
As I grinded, feeding into my needs, one of his hands roamed up, under my t-shirt and cupped my breast, giving my nipple a flick. After his testing touch, he pinched my ass cheek just short of drawing pain and I bowed into the touch, a silent plea for more.
Under me, with my knife at his throat and my body claiming his hard cock, he laughed.
“Careful now,” he warned.
“Careful? Oh!”
He grabbed my waist and flipped me onto my back on the bed, keeping my knife locked under his throat, he settled himself between my legs, forcing them open for his pelvis to fit.
He pushed his erection right into my pussy and left it there, leaning over me on his forearms. He was careful to keep his weight off me; my breathing turned into huffs.
Like this, our faces were close, our breath mixed, I felt the tickle of his black hair shedding down his cheeks and brushing against my own.
I swallowed, fixing the knife to sink against his jugular, keeping it there.
“What are—”
“Shh.” He picked up my leg and wrapped it around his back. “It’s okay.”
I was trapped like this, but it was he who had the knife at his throat. We were both trapped. Trapped together. “What are—”
“Don’t be scared.”
“But… what are you doing?”
“I’m going to fuck you.”