Chapter 10
Adelmo
I take another step back.
Gorgeous body. Perfect bee-sting, pouty mouth. She reminds me of someone or something.
My first girlfriend. I took her to Paris then to the CNC Fraternity party in Marseilles. That did not end well.
It’s disturbing how much she looks like her. Izzy likes kink, and that’s a fundamental difference, but everything else about Hope, our past, our choices, grinds at me. Underground discarded memories.
I don’t need those.
From beneath her brow, Izzy is giving me her lost kitten look again. Her long, black hair lies in wet tangles over her shoulders and half her face. Her breasts, belly, and nipples are flushed red in patches from my needles, teeth, and hands.
Half-strangled by the belt looped about her neck suspending her from the shower.
Hands tied at her back, ankles roped, her own come showing on her thighs, along with some red-tinged dribbles that speak of the roughness of my fisting of her little cunt.
God. My cock is aching like a fucking fire hose waiting to pump out and go off.
Not fucking her is my agenda until the party tomorrow. For once, I may fail.
I hate failure.
Izzy loves this, and she climaxed, despite me trying to scare the ever-loving hell out of her, despite her stabbed hand. Despite everything I and fucking Montez have done.
Is she lying…faking her desires? My black heart says not.
My lips curve upward, tugging at my scars. I am actually smiling.
Have you never felt lonely.
Her words. She said something like that and woke a part of me I’ve not thought about for ages. There’s always been an empty place inside, a black hole that swallows me when I’m in my darkest moods. Long, long ago, religion used to be my crutch, until I saw the falseness in that.
I’m always alone, even when I’m with someone. I never regret, and killing is easy when you have only you. My mantra, if I have one.
We’re all alone in our own private worlds, no matter how much we try to prove otherwise.
If I could keep her for a while, I can find out what makes her tick. Yet, no matter how often or how insistently she says she wants to help me if I save her, there is not one single reason to believe she would stay with me. What woman would voluntarily stay after everything that has happened? None.
And if I managed it, if I could save her from Montez’s rage and revenge, how stupid would I have to be to let her go out into the world? Very, very stupid. She knows too much.
My brother will laugh at my dilemma.
I return to her. “If I find out you’re faking any of this, I will make you sorry.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” She smiles jerkily, probably because I implied I might keep her alive. Is that wise? Is it worse to let her think herself saved when she’s not, or worse to destroy all her hope early?
Slack-mouthed, lips wet, she watches as I loosen the belt from her neck, unbuckle it. She watches my roving hands and leans against the wall as I weigh her breasts. I follow the curves of her body, down over her hips and legs to free her ankles. Once I untie her hands and throw the cloth scraps aside, she waits, bright-eyed, supporting the wrist of her bandaged hand, waits for me to do something.
“Afraid?”
“Of course.” The trembling in her hands underscores that.
“And?” I take her hurt hand, turn it over, but softly. “The truth, please. Why aren’t you sobbing and begging?” Any other woman would be. Why am I so sure she’ll say more?
“Because. I’m also weirdly excited. No one’s ever made me…” She blushes hot. “Come like that before.”
A compliment, and it strikes me dumb for a few seconds. A compliment from someone I hurt and fucked in public and have a few times promised to kill. “You are abnormal, but I like that.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her eyes widen.
Those eyes. “Stop making me think you’re a lost pet sitting on my doorstep, all needy and cute.”
“Me?”
I’m tempted to slap her.
Are we exchanging drivel like a date off Tinder? Next, I’ll be gushing over her looks. It’s not that her body isn’t attractive, but I can get naked girls almost anywhere. I’m more in love with what’s inside her head.
“Stay.” When she shifts, I press her to the wall using the flat of my palm.
She stays, wordless, though her bare feet move, adjusting in place.
Perfect obedience. I’m liking this, her, far too much.
I’m being obsessive, yet that has always been me. Obsessive. Meticulous.
Like—you didn’t mean to stand beside a cliff admiring the view with someone who will push you off? Bad luck? No, it was planning. I tend to think of all the things that can go wrong. I plan. Sometimes too much.
And so here I am wondering if I can save one girl from being exterminated by a man I detest—Montez. Just so I can toy with her afterward. She can be my midnight snack. The question then would be, how much of her will I consume before I tire of her?
I turn on the shower, and she gasps. I consider dodging the warm spray. Instead, I remain, getting misted and splashed. The water merrily drenches her, dripping off her nose, her chin, her erect nipples, wiggling in baroque curls of water down her body.
Lucky this is the tropics, and the boat is warm. Even so, her nipples become tempting buttons. The needle marks beneath them are obvious red spots. I thumb them and study her as Izzy eyes my hand. She swallows, her throat moving, and even that is sexy. Water droplets decorate her wavering eyelashes. She tracks my fingers as if they’re some Holy Grail of Sex.
Is this woman turned on again, already?
“Should I scrub all the filth off you?”
“I was thinking of pulling you under here with me.”
“Really?” I drawl. “Are you threatening me?” She has such plump areolas. All the better for fucking with, clamping, sucking.
“No?” Her voice quivers with tension.
I lean in closer and groan as my cock brushes her thigh.
“I doubt you can get me clean, sir. Every second I’m with you, I seem to get dirtier.”
“Corny line.” That sir, though, has caught me like a hook.
“You think?” Is she taunting me? Her gaze drops lower, to my cock.
I finger her jaw, her mouth, and her tongue curls out to find my thumb. Water pours off my arm and my chest before swirling down to my cock and running off my legs. I’m as wet as she is.
“We just killed two people back at that house, and you’re happy, trapped in here and awaiting execution tomorrow?”
I’m being casual while imagining my cock plowing into her—lifting her up the wall and entering her, sinking into that recently fisted cunt. I breathe deeply. No. Did I not decide it was a no? And she bled from my fist.
“Ah.” Her grimace and tiny frown-line says she’s more normal than I figured. “No. Not happy. Unless.” She whispers, “You’re saving me for later?”
It makes her sound like that midnight snack.
We’re both drenched, and for me it’s worse since I’m clothed. I step away to drag off my shirt, sodden pants, and underwear. Now we’re both naked.
I do the unthinkable. I kiss her.
A full-mouthed, tongue delving, hard-breathing kiss.
“I wasn’t going to—” I murmur, kissing her nose while below my cock is jammed into her soft stomach.
“Fuck me?”
“Nope.”
“So…” She gulps a breath. “If what Montez wants is what you never do?—”
“I get it, but no.”
Except, she’s right. Letting him dictate what I’m not doing is as bad as obeying him.
I haul her up the wall until I’m poised to enter her. Again, I remember she’s bleeding from the fisting and that shouldn’t matter at all, and she’s ready and turned on.
But shoving my dick in there seems an awful thing to do. Have I grown morals?
So I push her to her knees, and she goes down obediently.
“Your mouth,” I add, sternly, harsh of voice and desperate. “Tell me to use you.”
“Oh.” Her pupils are swimming with utter blackness, blown wide and innocent. “Use me, please, sir.”
Sir. Again. Then she opens and that round, tongue-wet hole is somehow a pit leading to my personal hell.
Now who is sick?
She’s dead tomorrow unless I perform a miracle. I’m aware I’m a bad man, but this bad?
I’m already groaning, as I stick my cock in that hole of hers.
It slides, clamped onto by lips, grazed by teeth, and I grab a bunch of her wet hair and force my way in, all the way to the back. She splutters around me.
The build-up has been so over the top, so prolonged, that I can tell I’m going to come after only a few mouth-deep strokes. I grit my teeth and pause, panting, determined to hold myself back. Then her kitten eyes meet mine, and I’m gone.
A blindfold, next time. I’m laughing at my thought even as I shove in and suck my cock out, groaning, grunting, close to the peak…
I’m pumping and full of come to the brim, ready to burst everything in the following explosion, from eyes to cock to balls to the blood vessels in my throat.
Then I find her throat on the next thrust and I’m abso-fucking-lutely gone.
Muscles taut, snarling, I pour myself into her.