Chapter 5
FIONA
Iblink back at Hunter, my mouth gaping ever so slightly.
This is how he is, though. Blunt and to the point.
It’s actually better this way because I know what to expect from him. Then again, Madam Levy thought she knew what to expect, and she ended up getting Hellraiser’d.
I wonder how many people came before her, and when he’ll grow thirsty for another.
“Why go to the effort when you can do whatever you want to me?”
He shrugs. “The men I worked with enjoyed doing it to their…mates.”
“Mates?” I scoff.
“More than girlfriends and bigger than marriage. The guys I rolled with were committed to their women in ways you just didn’t see before the apocalypse. They did whatever it took to make their women happy, and that made them very happy.”
“Oh…before, when we did that, did you like it?”
He pauses, his eyes zoning out. Is he thinking up a lie to be polite? He doesn’t strike me as the polite type. Surely he can’t hate it if he’s deciding to do it again.
“You don’t have to do it,” I finally say. “Food and security matter a lot more to me than being made ‘very happy’.”
He pulls out the first aid kit again and gestures to a table with two chairs tucked underneath. “Take a seat.”
I comply and allow him to treat my wounds, bandaging the open cuts. Admittedly, it’s nice being cared for, even if it’s by a psychopath.
When he’s done treating me, I realize the position he’s in. Kneeling in front of me the way he had when he ate me out.
It suddenly dawns on me that this isn’t just new for him. It’s new for me too. I’ve had sex with dozens of men, as was required of me on Salem Street. But it was never pleasurable. I hated every minute of it. The only time I’ve felt gratification was when I was with Hunter.
Maybe with him, it could be different. I’m not na?ve enough to think we could ever love each other. That feeling would be abstract to him. But maybe there could be more to our coupling than being told which position to get in so he could better shoot his load.
As he places his hands on my knees, I squeeze them shut.
He brings his eyes to mine, his brow lifting.
“Can we, um, on a bed?” My cheeks flush with heat, though I have no reason to be embarrassed.
His head tilts ever so slightly to the side, like he’s making a mental list of the pros and cons of bed fucking.
Which seems like a very Hunter thing to do.
“Sure.”
I follow him to a room tucked in a corner. There’s a bed in the center, a nightstand, and a dresser. The walls and surfaces are void of decor.
It looks even sadder than the apartment I was holed in, which had decorations on the wall and pictures of what was once a happy life.
Did they improve the quality of my sad existence? Not exactly, but it gave me a small amount of comfort, reminding me of better times.
Times I’ll never see again.
I climb onto the bed, tossing the towel he allowed me to keep off to the side. There’s no point in fake modesty, and I’m sure he wouldn’t respond well to it.
“One question,” he says.
“Yes?”
“Right now, are you fertile?”
I shake my head no.
“Good, we’ll track your cycle so I don’t get you pregnant. If you’d like, I’ll give you pills, but I won’t force you to take them.”
He crawls into position, nudging my legs apart.
My gut twists because I feel so on display. And yes, I know how ironic that is considering what I’ve done in the past.
I wish I’d taken the time to shave in the tub, but with my exhaustion, I hadn’t thought this far ahead.
Not that Hunter seems to care. He’s looking at my snatch with…interest? Not horny interest. Like I’m some kind of rare insect he’s spotted in the wild.
Which is a crazy feeling I don’t entirely like.
“Ah, can it start up here?” I ask, trying to change the vibe.
He looks up at me, his eyes roving over my body.
“Maybe we could kiss?” I offer.
“I’ll never kiss you.” His tone isn’t angry or warm. It’s neutral.
“Fine, but maybe you don’t have to start down there,” I say, annoyed.
He sighs. “You liked what I’d done to you down here before.”
“And I’m sure I will again, but I want to know if other things make me feel good, too.”
His eyes flicker with frustration, but he crawls up my body so that he’s directly above me.
“Can you take off your shirt?” I ask.
Grumbling, he complies with my wishes, tugging his shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. Then, he settles into position, his warm flesh against mine.
Underneath his well-muscled body, I wait for him to do something, make some kind of move, but all he does is look at me.
And then it hits me. He doesn’t know what to do…
It’s a strange, sad surprise, but I’m sure it’s the truth. He’s never had sex in the traditional sense. The last time we were together, he’d asked to lick me because his friends enjoyed it. Apparently, it did the trick, but it probably wouldn’t have occurred to him to do it on his own.
Which makes this awkward for the both of us.
“Could you touch my breasts?”
He gives what I believe is a sigh of relief as his hand moves into position, gathering a breast and gently kneading.
This isn’t like the tub, where everything felt so clinical. His hand is big and warm and the way he works my flesh causes my vision to lose focus.
I moan, digging my fingers into his hair as I bring his mouth to my hardened nipple.
That I could be so forward with a murderous psychopath speaks to how turned on I am right now. Everything about this man is confusing, but that’s okay. As long as his mouth is on me, we’ll get along just fine.
He sucks my tight bud into his mouth, taking deep draws that have me panting out his name. I feel it everywhere. My fingers, toes, my heart that’s racing with urgent need.
It’s like my body is an orchestra and he is the conductor.
He pops off, moving to the other, letting his tongue dance on my puckered bud before sucking it in.
What he has me feeling is obscene and confusing. How could he be so good at turning me on when I’m so utterly disgusted by men?
And that’s not up for debate. I truly hate them.
His mouth is worshipful, moving from one breast to the other, kissing and lapping and sucking until I feel like I’m going to die without precious friction.
I grab his head, tilting it so our eyes connect.
“More.”
His head tilts to the side. “Do you want me to suck harder?”
“Jesus Christ—I need you to lick me!”
Realization lights his eyes and he gives a curt nod, moving down my body at lightning speed.
He doesn’t kiss my stomach or linger in any particular place. He gets straight to the point, because that’s the kind of guy he is.
He pushes my thighs onto his broad shoulders as he brings his chest to the mattress. But instead of licking me out like I crave, he parts my pussy lips and stares.
He fucking stares.
I whine, wiggling my hips, which elicits an annoyed reaction from him.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“Fuck, this is torture!” I snarl.
“I assure you it is not, but if you’d like me to show you what torture is like, I can—”
My eyes widen in terror. “No—no torture. I was being glib.”
“I’d figured.” His thumb travels the length of my seam. “I’m surprised by how wet you are.” He gathers my moisture and rubs it in circles on my clit.
“Oh—fuck!” My thighs tighten, but he uses his forearms to force them further open.
“I’m going to lick inside you now.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head as his base words take hold, carrying me further into lust.
That I could be so turned on while he acts like a fucking research scientist is so unfair. He doesn’t understand my urgency and longing. How I fucking need what’s just beyond my reach.
But his tongue is merciful, driving into my channel with precision. He spears me again and again as I gush over his tongue, losing my grip on reality.
He doesn’t seem to care.
He licks straight up my seam, his tongue replacing his thumb, swirling and jiggling and lapping at my clit until I’m screaming his name.
The orgasm crushes me, knocking my breath from my lungs as a series of small explosions rock my core. I see the sun and stars, heaven and hell, all parts of the universe as I lose myself.
My body finally stills, my hips planting firmly on the bed. I can hardly think straight, I’m so spent. Hunter’s expression is contemplative, and I wonder what’s going on in that weird head of his.
“Did that satisfy your curiosity?” I ask.
“If anything, it’s made me more confused.”
Okay, so that wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped to hear.
“Well…um, do you want to talk about it?” I offer.
“No. I want to fuck you.”
Breathing out a sigh of relief, I watch as he takes the rest of his clothes off, marveling as his cock springs loose from its confines.
Warmth washes over me as I remember how he’d stretched me. First as we watched Madam Levy’s suffering, and again after he’d licked me.
I like that he gets hard for me. That my orgasm turns him on. Maybe it will make him want to give me more.
I spread my thighs wide for him as he moves into position. A big drop of pre-cum crowns his head, and I wonder if he’d like me to taste it.
But he moves too fast, pressing his length to my center and breaching my core.
Fuck, he’s big, and oh, so demanding. Thankfully, he took the time to get me ready.
Which is considerate considering he’s a psychopath.
He angles his hips, driving into me deeper and deeper as I pant, clawing his shoulders, throwing my head back against the bed.
His large hand cups my breast, toying with my nipple. The way he’s looking at them isn’t with the stone-cold gaze I’m used to from Hunter. His gaze is lust-filled. Damn near reverential.
Maybe he is just like other guys, he just doesn’t know it.
I take over, gathering my small breasts in my hands, teasing my nipples for his pleasure. His breathing grows jagged and husky as his face looks utterly primal.
It’s hard to picture him as a murderer when he’s so damn gorgeous. Everything about him is perfect, from his strong, chiseled jaw to his tongue he wields so masterfully.
And it’s me he longs for. Me, he wants to fuck. My beautiful psychopath doesn’t understand his desire for me, but it’s there, and judging by the look he has in his eye, it’s growing.
I bring a hand down between us to tend to my clit. The knowledge that I’m pleasing myself sets something off in Hunter, and he ruts harder and harder, his eyes studying me as he fires off punishing strokes.
And then I see those lips. Lips that brought me such pleasure. Lips I’d love to kiss.
“I’ll never kiss you,” he’d said, his voice insistent.
He gives me so much, but there will always be a line between us.
Tears well in my eyes, but my lust doesn’t abate. I’m so close to coming, I can feel the tendrils grab hold, pulling me deeper and deeper into bliss, and when he seats himself fully inside me, filling me with warmth, I detonate.
What this man does to me is wicked and savage, and I’ll never get enough.
It’s Hunter who speaks first. “That went better than expected.”
I’m still choking on breath, trying to bring myself down from the high I was riding.
He gets up from the bed and begins gathering his clothes, and all at once, the floodgates unleash. I start bawling, crying so hard, I nearly scream.
Hunter’s hands are on me. He’s forcing my eyes to his.
“Did I hurt you?”
I don’t know what to say.
“Due to my predilections, I’ve long sought out anatomical and medical knowledge to better keep my victims alive during torture. I can—”
I cut him off mid-sentence. “I’m not hurt. At least not physically.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
I sniffle uncontrollably, then unleash a fresh round of sobs.
Hunter stares at me as if he can’t comprehend what’s going on. “Do you typically cry after sex?”
“No.”
“Then why now? You seemed to enjoy it.”
“I did…it’s just…seeing you grab your clothing afterward made me think of the others.”
“Others?”
“From Salem.”
His mouth forms a thin line.
“Will you…cuddle me?”
“No.”
Sadness and anger intertwine. “But why?”
“I don’t want to.”
“But it costs you nothing.”
“If there were a good reason to do so, I would.”
“What if that reason is to make me happy?”
“Why would I care about that?”
Never in my life have I felt so alone. But what did I expect? Hunter never lied or put on a false face. He is who he is, and he makes no apologies for it.
“I’ll leave you to get yourself sorted.”
Sorted? Like I’m fucking laundry.
He pulls his clothes on, his expression never changing.
“I’m making roasted pigeon with a fresh salad for dinner. Until it’s time to eat, I’m going to have to ask you not to leave the room.”
And without another glance my way, he exits, letting the door close behind him.