Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
HIM
T here are countless reasons why I’m obsessed with her.
It’s the way she tried to regain her composure after nearly running into me on the stairs before I helped her move boxes into her new apartment. How, after, she almost ran into me again before asking me to hang out sometime. I teased her, and she blushed madly before I gave her my number.
Even then, she was already smitten. I could tell.
It’s the way she asserted herself at her job interview at the video store, how she stood her ground against her tyrant boss. How she rattled off facts about horror movies while I played dumb about the genre. We click with each other like no other, spending hours together chatting about our favorite films—the dark, the macabre.
Indeed, she’s a woman after my heart. My goddess of death in the flesh .
The way she leaned into me for comfort as she, consumed with paranoia, barely slept. I welcomed her with open arms, kept her company, and allowed her some reprieve—even if I was one of the shadows that haunted her every waking moment.
Because, my dear Gwen, I’ll always make time for you.
Disbelief flickers across her face. Then she runs, blood pooling around her hand as she desperately applies pressure to her wounded side. It drips along the floor, spattering crimson on the carpet, leaving a trail. It’s like she’s enacting her own horror movie—and I’m the one who brought it to life.
I lock the door and start after her with long strides. She stumbles as she reaches the hall, briefly losing her balance. Stabilizing herself, she leaves a bloody handprint smeared on the wall as she runs into her bedroom. Fuck, it’s beautiful— she’s beautiful. I hear her moving something, probably furniture to barricade the door because it doesn’t have a lock.
“Gwen,” I call out, wiping the blood from the blade on my pants. “I know what you did. Don’t worry, I’m not angry. I just wanna talk!”
“Fuck you!” she yells, still fortifying her little sanctuary.
Her defiance is admirable, but it’s also futile. I try the doorknob, but it doesn’t budge much. With a sigh, I stand back and count to three. On one, I slam my shoulder into the door at full force. She shrieks as it flies open, her vanity crashing to the floor. Broken shards of mirror crunch under my feet as I step inside.
Gwen retreats to the other side of the room, her hands searching for a weapon behind her. Settling on a lamp, she chucks it at me. I dodge it and smirk, even though she can’t see it behind the mask. Her chest heaves with the effort of her breathing, blood seeping from between her fingers as she continues to hold her side.
Slowly, I step toward her. “We can do this the easy way,” I say, brandishing my knife and pointing it at her. “Or the hard way. You choose.”
“Go to hell,” she spits through gritted teeth.
Before she can blink, I’m on her. Blood loss has slowed her reaction time, and I’m easily able to shove her to the floor, straddling her. She tries to push me off, but I snatch her wrists and hold them above her head. With my free hand, I press the tip of my knife against her lips, silencing her protests.
“Don’t worry, my Little Finch,” I say, grinding against her. “I’ll take good care of you.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” I mock, dragging the knife ever so slowly down to her neck. She shivers—from fear or arousal, maybe both—when I shallowly cut into her flesh. My laughter fills the room as I slide the knife down to her wound. “Stab you? ‘fraid I already did.” I trace it, coating the blade in blood, and lift it so that she sees it before wiping it on her cheek. “You’re beautiful, covered in blood. ”
“Blake, stop. I?—”
I grind my teeth, my nostrils flaring as irrational anger courses through me. “Who gives a shit about that fucking dork?” I slip my blade underneath her blouse, breaking each button until her breasts bounce free. “You’re mine.” I grasp her chin and force her to look at me. “You belong to me . Do you understand?”
She bares her teeth, glaring at me. “And if I don’t?”
I squeeze her face and let out a sinister laugh. “Then you’ll suffer the consequences,” I say, sliding the knife down her sternum, causing a thin line of blood to trickle down her chest. “I’m sure you remember what happened the last time you defied me. And all the other times you strayed from me.”
Her eyes widen as the truth sinks in—before her lips curl into a snarl, the pieces coming together. “You killed them, didn’t you? All of them.”
“Yes. They paid the price for trying to take you away from me.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. “Grace, Briar, Chris, Otto, Jen?—”
“You son of a bitch!” she screams, angry tears welling up in her eyes. “Grace and Jen didn’t deserve to die! They weren’t like us—they were good people!”
I tilt my head and chuckle. “So you finally admit it, then? That we’re alike?”
“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” she snaps, ignoring me. “You claim you want to right wrongs, kill bad people. But then you murder people who don’t deserve it. What sort of crooked ass ‘justice’ is that? ”
I shrug. “Yeah, I don’t always get rid of the ‘right’ people. But what did you expect, Little Finch? I’m a killer .”
Fury blazes in her eyes before she breaks free of my grasp. In some pathetic last-ditch effort to escape, she attempts to kick me in the face. But I catch her by the ankle, squeezing it hard as I twist it. She yelps in pain, yet still tries to scramble away. But I’m stronger, faster. And with that wound, there’s no way she can gain the upper hand.
“Let me go!” she cries out.
Before she can make it to her feet, I grab her wrists and push her back until she’s restrained against the wall. She scowls, breathing heavily, her wound handicapping her.
“The justice system fails people every day. The only way to make a change is doing it the right way—by taking it into your own hands.” She tries to thrash her way out of my grasp, but I keep her pinned, my grip like iron. “I may have murdered some people who didn’t ‘deserve’ it. But others needed to be punished. That’s why I do this—to make sure justice is served.”
She narrows her eyes at me, though I know she understands what I’m trying to tell her. After sheathing my knife, I take off my mask and toss it aside.
She exhales a shuddering breath, her body trembling. “Damon …”
I smirk, releasing her. She doesn’t run. “Hey, Gwen.” I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close. I press my lips against her, our kiss all-consuming. She melts against me, her fingers sliding into my hair as she responds with a hunger that rivals my own.
She moans into my mouth, her soft tits rubbing against me. I’m ravenous . I pull away, leaving her breathless, and plant kisses on her neck. She gasps as I increase my grip on her throat.
“D-Damon,” she whines.
I groan, rubbing my face against her neck, inhaling her scent. “Say it again.” I nip at her flesh when she doesn’t immediately respond. “Say it!”
“Damon!”
Her voice goes straight to my cock, making me strain uncomfortably against my zipper. I bite down harder, marking her as mine. I shift, grinding myself against her, making her whimper. “Fuck, you sound amazing.” I find her lips again, kissing her until I’m dizzy with lust. I slip my hand underneath her skirt and rub her clit through her panties.
“Damon,” she moans, her nails clawing at my scalp.
I pull down her panties. Without prompting, she parts her thighs, and I rub slow circles on her clit with my thumb. Her whimpers turn into sharp cries as I push two fingers into her tight pussy. I nibble her earlobe, making her shiver.
“Feels good,” she groans as I thrust my fingers faster into her soaked cunt, sinking deep and hitting her g-spot with perfect precision.
“Damon, fuck. Please! ”
“Please what?” I ask, feigning ignorance of her impending orgasm.
“If you keep doing that,” she pants, “I’m gonna come.”
“I know,” I purr, pumping faster. Her walls flutter around me, her pussy trapping my hand in a vise. Seeing my Little Finch come undone around my fingers is better than carving up targets. “Come for me, Gwen.”
She buries her face in my neck, her release coming swiftly, gushing all over as she rides out her climax. I drop to my knees, push up her skirt, and latch my mouth onto her cunt. She keens, threading her fingers in my hair as I lick her slit, savoring her sweet taste. I curl a digit, again hitting that spot deep inside—and she screams, erupting all over my face.
I waste no time drinking her up, not wanting to waste a single drop. After running my tongue up her sensitive folds, I stand, licking my lips. She stares at me, her face flushed, her eyes glazed over in lust.
“I need you inside of me,” she says, her voice thick with desire. “ Now .”
I free my cock and jerk myself to the sight of her covered in blood and sweat. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I breathe, hefting her up. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, hooking her ankles around my waist—before I thrust into her with one fluid, upward snap of my hips.
“Shit,” she whimpers. “Fuck me …”
I groan, buried balls deep inside of my Little Finch—my Gwendoline Cirillo . I’ve wanted to do this for so long, to take her as myself. I move in and out of her, feeling her tight walls squeezing my cock with each plunge.
Her core shakes around me as she moans against my ear. “Harder!”
My rhythm is hard, deep. The angle is perfect, my cock stroking her g-spot with every thrust. “So tight,” I groan, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Her tits bounce with every movement, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as I drive into her. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, my dark goddess.
“You feel so good, Damon,” she whines, her eyes half-lidded. She digs her nails into my shoulders, practically howling as I hit her special spot over and over again. Her pussy clings so tightly, determined to never let us separate.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I say, bouncing her faster on my cock. “So tight, taking me like a good girl. You’re mine .”
Her eyes slip closed, and I slam into her, making her cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. “I’m yours, Damon!” She throws her head back, shattering into pieces around me.
“I’m gonna come,” I growl, my cock pulsing as her cunt constricts me mercilessly. “Gonna fill you until you’re bursting with my cum!” My orgasm tears through me, and I come hard, painting her walls white.
We stay against the wall, neither of us making a move to separate. Part of me doesn’t want this moment to end. But reality comes crashing back as she moans— but not from pleasure. Gently, I withdraw and set her on the floor. I need to clean her up, stitch up her wounds.
I plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. An indescribable feeling bubbles up from deep inside me, stirring and coming alive.
My other half—I think I truly love her.