Chapter 29
“Take it off,” Dig said. An order, a command.
Standing over me, on the edge of the bed, his shadow blanketed against the wall behind him as if he wore a pair of dark wings. He leaned his head, losing his smug smirk, offering me only a glower until I responded.
I did as I was told and took off his t-shirt. Once it was over my head, he snatched it from me and threw it over his shoulder as if the piece of material offended him. A small smile replaced his glower.
I smiled in return, happy he was pleased.
He reached down and stroked my cheek, a caressing reward for doing what he had asked.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
“Yes, that is true.” My cheeks went hotter than the heat between my legs.
He laughed a dark laugh, and while holding my chin and brushing his thumb over my lips he used his other hand to pull down the waistband of his sweatpants. Moving my chin down, he forced me to look.
His cock, thick and long and gleaming. He was hard, solid as rock, the tip already wet. Was he as aroused as I?
He pressed his lips together as he lowered his pants a little further down so that the band did not touch his shaft. It looked almost as if he were in pain, as if his hardened, desperate cock was aching with as much need as I was.
My chest heaved up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone that big before. I don’t know if I can take that.”
“Of course you can.” He brushed the hair over my shoulder so that he had an uninterrupted view of my breasts.
“We were made for each other. Which means you’re going to fit my cock.
And if you don’t? I’ll make it fit.” He seized my chin and lifted my face up.
“We’re going to practice until you can take it all, and when you can take it all, you’re never going to stop taking it. ”
Yes, that sounded good.
“And then when you’re all,” he paused and cleared his throat, “sorry, do you consent to me doing all that to you?”
“Yes!”
He smirked and gave my cheek a pat. “Lay down and show me.”
My orgasm was still tickling through my nerves, and I was wet and needy already. When I laid down my legs sprung open immediately. I revealed myself to him, sore from his lips and fingers, coated in the wetness from his mouth and my arousal, and aching, oh, so aching in need for more.
“Mm.” He leaned his head, the rims of his sunglasses shining in the lacklustre light as he spent a moment appreciating what was open and vulnerable in front of him.
His thumb brushed over my clit. My hips bucked in response.
He laughed at his ability to capture me under the duress of just a single touch from him.
He slipped a finger inside of me, and then a second and soon a third, stretching, moving them slowly in and out and brushed his thumb over my clit. “Oh yeah, Princess, you’re ready.”
Squirming and tight in heat, I nodded, almost begging for him.
He removed his fingers and took away his thumb and I sighed in protest from the absence of his touch.
“Shh.” He ran his fingers over the apex of my thighs, and reached down, dipping his hands under my ass cheeks, grabbing them both. “You’re going to get it, I promise.”
Holding my ass in both hands he tugged me down further to the edge of the mattress and braced one hand on my thigh, holding it down. With his other hand he held his cock and a shallow groan heaved from his throat.
He positioned the broad tip of his cock at my entrance, pushing at my delicate flesh there.
Just at the slight touch of his cock into me had me quivering with anticipation.
Holding down my thigh, so that I would not move, he took a firm grip of his cock and pressed the tip inside of me.
Only an inch as he pushed himself in, stretching me into sweet, beautiful pain.
I fisted the sheets, enduring it, smothered by it, relishing in it, a whimper heaving from my throat.
He stopped. “Princess?”
I looked back up at him.
He had stopped, leaving himself only a touch inside, his hesitation melted something inside of me.
“You ready for more?” he asked.
I nodded, unable to speak. I couldn’t breathe under the burning.
A feral smile took hold on his mouth, he pushed himself in further, making me twist. The pain mixed with pleasure. I wanted all of him. I wanted bruises. I wanted bleeding. I wanted him to destroy me in every lovely way.
“More!” I slammed my fist into the sheets.
He thrust in further, I almost cried.
“More!”
He thrust in again and stopped, holding himself still, letting me grow accustomed to the shape and fill of him.
“More,” I whispered into the sheets, keeping my legs open, my heart thumping, my need biting. “All of it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can take it.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Go all the way in.”
“Eyes on me, Princess.”
I looked up at him, burning and blistering.
“I plan on having you for the next two days, and we can’t do that if I tear you up the first time, so you get half of me. Only half. And if you do very good? Well, you might just get all of—”
“Do it!”
He jerked. “Geez, okay.”
“And if you dare—”
He pushed all the way in.
The single thrust sent me into the stars.
The world fractured from our first joining and I was unable to stop the moan breaking from my throat. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his waist and held me by my ass, thrusting himself inside of me, moving in a slow rhythm.
“Now, lay back, take it,” he said. “And make those noises I like.”
Once he had successfully stretched me to properly accommodate him, he went quicker, beating his cock into my terrain, over and over, faster and faster.
Conquering me with each thrust. I whined and whimpered and rocked my hips with his.
He became ravenous, wearing a savage grin, digging his fingers into the flesh of my ass until I would wear the bruises of his fingertips tomorrow.
Our breathing synced. Each thrust drifted closer to the finale.
We came together.
I cried out through whimpers; he groaned in sanction.
His seed filled me, hot and wet, mixing with my own arousal. He did not pull himself out, and left his cock still hard, half inside of me, and hunched down, lying on top of me.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, I wrapped my arms around his back, hugging him. He rested his face next to mine on the mattress, his warm breath tickling my ear and we both stayed there, stuck together, inside and out, withering with defeat from our climax.
Soon his fingers played with a strand of my hair as we laid there together, without desire to move. He smelled like sex, I smelled like sex too. That sweet generous tang. I kept my legs locked around his waist, not allowing him to move even if he wanted to, keeping his cock housed inside of me.
I wanted this moment to last for eternity.
The moment my daydreams had finally become a reality.
I did it.
I let the man who broke into my bedroom at 2am steal my dignity and I smiled with thoughtless delirium. His lips brushed my cheek like a kiss. It felt like a kiss, a soft kiss, but I doubted it was.
A noise emitted from him. A smirk, I think.
“That was incredible.” I exhaled a heavy breath. “My heart is racing.”
He stopped playing with my hair and rested his hand flat over my heart, feeling the beat.
Then, he lifted up, leaving his cock speared inside of me and pressed his chest into mine. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight.
“Oh, your hearts beating fast too.” I snuggled into him. “For a guy who runs around a massive city and kills people, you’re pretty out of breath just after one round.”
He peeled himself up, and looked down at my chest and then his, frowning.
Now with his face so close to mine, the candlelight flicked across the glass concealing his eyes and I became witness to a flutter of his lashes dashing closed and open.
He moved up, taking his dashing lashes with him, slowly extracting himself from out of me, careful. Next, he grabbed a box of tissues off the bedside table. Holding my legs open, he cleaned his seed.
I suddenly wondered what it might be like to kiss him.
Funny that. He’d tasted me, fucked me, and here I was, all blushed and hot about the thought of kissing him.
Night continued to tiptoe and since Dig was concerned of me cutting his throat in the middle of the night, he did not sleep, so neither did I.
I was in need of some serious self-care, so I put on a facemask, checking that the serum was soaking properly in my skin, and gave Dig my hand. Studiously, he worked on each of my nails with the file, ensuring each one was perfectly rounded.
The scars and tattoos over his shoulders told tales of his years in prison, his black hair messed over his head, the sheets wrapped around his lower half showed the outline of his erection pointed in my direction.
I had selected a vitamin C mask for him, and he wore it under his red heart-shaped sunglasses.
“Where did you come from?” I asked Dig. “I tried researching you, but all your information online was taken off.”
“I came from the gutter.” His scar speckled and calloused hands were much larger than mine. Gentler too.
“You said you have a sister?”
He almost sort of smiled. “Yeah, Glorious. But she prefers to be called Glory.”
“Are you close?”
Whatever smile was about to bloom on his face withered. “No, she likes to keep her distance from people. Doesn't trust anyone. I respect that. It's a good way to be in this world for most of us. What about you? Is your brother nice to you?”
A stab hit my chest. “I’d prefer not to speak about him.”
Dig nodded, keeping his attention on my nails. “Okay.”
“Who are your parents?”
“My dad is dead,” he answered quickly, like ripping off a bandage.
“Mine too.” I smiled. “Isn't that nice, we have things in common.”
Pausing on my nails, he looked up at me. He did not smile. I realised then I had forgotten to show emotion.
“Oh.” I promptly dropped my smile. “I apologise. I’m not very good at…at…being empathetic. Um…that's sad. That’s very sad. Our fathers are dead. Sad. Sad.”
I scrunched up my face, trying to show misery, however I think I must have looked ridiculous as Dig cocked his head at it.
I swallowed hard.
Now he would fester with thoughts about my strangeness. He would feel the cold that leaked from me. He would move away, just like everyone did, knowing there was something odd about the girl who did not feel.
“Ha!” Dig slapped his knee, breaking the silence between us. “Nah, I’m not sad he’s dead. He was horrible.”
I dropped my facade. “Oh.”
“What were you doing with your face? It looked cute.”
I smiled a little. He did too. We shared that small smile. I think this was a special kind of language, sharing a smile.
“Do you cry?” I asked him. “Like…with tears?”
He shrugged. “When I was younger. Not so much anymore.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Crying?”
“Yeah.”
“It's alright.”
“I've never cried before.”
He lifted his head. His dark sunglasses reflected the smooth light and shimmered. His lips pressed softly together. Sympathy, I think. Or maybe he was confused. I did not know. “Do you…want to cry?”
“Well, of course. I want to be like everyone else.”
“Not me.” His forehead lined. “I only want you to be like you.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest.
“Besides,” he said. “Won't crying mess up your mascara? You wear Herin, that shit is expensive.”
I heaved out a weak laugh. “Yes, that is true. I’m lucky then.” I clenched my jaw and looked away. I think I would have preferred to have dribbly mascara over my cheeks and be normal than be... whatever I was.
“Hey.” His single word was deep, but soft.
I lost my jaw clench. “Yes?”
He reached out to me, cupping my jaw gently. His calloused fingers were warm on my skin. “Look at me.”
I did.
He was so serious now. I think behind those dark sunglasses, his eyes were peering deep into mine, as if trying to find me. “I tell you what, anytime you feel like you want to cry, just let me know, I’ll cry for you.”
That warmth in my chest turned into a furnace. “You’ll…cry for me?”
“Sure.”
“But you're a crazy Soulless serial killer, you're not supposed to cry.”
He checked his face mask, prodding at the serum. “I don’t think there’s a lot of things I'm supposed to do. But I don't give much of a shit about that. You tell me when, and I'll start leaking salty water out of my eyes. Okay?”
“I don't think that's how it works. If I feel sad, I’m supposed to cry. Not you.”
“If you're sad, I’m sad too.”
I leaned into his hand, holding him and this precious moment. My heart felt suddenly so heavy. I wondered if I could claw the useless thing out of my chest and let him hold it for me. “Okay, Dig.”
His grin was disarming.
“What about your mother?” I asked. “Where is she?”
The grin was discarded. He took his hand away and returned to my nails. “She’s alive.”
“That's nice.”
He paused filing my nails again, dwelling in a quiet moment before moving onto a new finger. “Yeah.”
“You got a girlfriend or boyfriend?”
“You.”
I was beginning to lose interest in killing him. “I think you’d probably do anything for me.”
He moved onto my next nail. “I’d develop a foot fetish for you.”
That did not surprise me. “I’m hungry, but I don't want to ruin my nails. Can you peel an orange for me please?”
“I’d peel the skin off a screaming man for you.”
“Alright.” Before he got up, I grabbed his arm. “Can you take your sunglasses off for me?”
He grimaced. “No.”