Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
KIARA
I wring my hands nervously as each of my warring emotions runs through me.
Desire. Anger. Stress. Sadness. I know Zyran can read me like a book; his knowing grin tells me as much.
“If you keep standing there staring at me, I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here,” he warns.
Eyes wide, I throw open the doors again and sprint down the porch steps. Zyran gives me all of five seconds before he’s running after me.
His footsteps are heavy and loud as they pound the pavement behind me. When I look over my shoulder to see he’s just an arm’s length away, I let out a shocked gasp and push myself to run faster.
He’s not even giving me a chance.
“That’s not fair!” I yell behind me. A part of me hopes my neighbors don’t pay us any mind, for their sake.
When we reach the end of the street, I make a sharp right toward the abandoned neighborhood across the clearing. The closer we get, the taller the grass is, until the blades reach my knees. It’s getting harder to run, but I will myself to keep going. I refuse to lose this game.
I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t incredibly turned on right now. I remember the feeling of fear mixed with arousal when Zyran chased me through the forest three months ago. It was the strangest mixture of emotions that I’d secretly hoped to experience again one day, and it’s finally happening.
It’s that reason alone that makes me stop in my tracks. I do need to catch my breath, but I want to see what Zyran will do next.
Almost immediately, his body comes barreling into mine as he grabs me around the waist and hoists me over his shoulder.
“Put me down, you psycho!” I yell, beating on his back with my fists.
Jesus , this is so hot.
Zyran just laughs and starts running again until we’ve reached the empty neighborhood. He knows as well as I do how much I’m enjoying this right now.
I barely have a chance to look around before he’s kicking a door in and running up the stairs to the first bedroom he sees.
The floor—which I presume is rotting—groans dangerously as he drops me down.
I land on my butt with an irritated huff.
“You lost, butterfly,” he says as he towers over me, taking his hoodie and shirt off, ripping the latter in half. Somehow, this is the first time I’m noticing he has tattoos. I don’t know how, because he’s covered in them. I guess I’ve spent so much time looking at his face that I hadn’t noticed anything else about his appearance.
He doesn’t remove his ski mask; my mouth begins to water. “You lied.”
The corner of his mouth quirks into a devilish grin. “Yeah, I did. Get up, so I make it up to you.”
Without even a second thought, I stand up and face him, not letting on to the fact that my heart feels like a racecar in my chest.
And when he says, “Turn around,” I swear I feel like I’m about to pass out.
His deep blue eyes darken dangerously as I turn my back to him. He grips my wrists roughly and ties them with one half of the shirt. I’m just about to tell him off for tying it too tight when he spins me back around and shoves the other half into my mouth.
Well, that’s one way of telling someone to shut the hell up.
“This what you want, yeah?” he asks tauntingly as he pulls my phone out of his pocket and the locket off his wrist. I nod excitedly and relax a little at the sight of my necklace.
But my heart immediately starts racing when he bends down and pulls something out of his boot.
My heart races when I see the evening sunlight reflect off the silver blade of his knife.
I try to run, but he grabs a fistful of my hair and slams me against the wall so hard the breath is knocked out of me. Instead of giving me a chance to recover—I don’t know why I would expect him to—he takes the shirt out of my mouth and presses his lips against mine, capturing me in a heated kiss.
When he dips his tongue inside my mouth, I want to bite him, but I can’t bring myself to do it when he feels so good, even though I feel like I’m about to pass out.
When I start to sway in his arms, I wrench my head back and forth to get him to stop, but that only makes him crazier with need. He grabs my face and kisses me like, if he doesn’t, I’ll cease to exist.
It’s only when I go slack in his arms that he decides to let go.
I fall to my knees and take deep, heaving breaths until my heart rate goes back to normal.
“I hate you,” I breathe.
“Liar,” he retorts.
He’s not wrong.
No matter how mad I am at him, I don’t think I could ever find it in me to hate him, even after everything he’s done.
“Get up, butterfly,” he says softly.
On wobbly legs, I slowly get to my feet and face him. He shoves the shirt back into my mouth and pushes me against the wall again.
“How bad do you want it, Kiara?”
The necklace or him? That’s the real question.
I want both, but I can’t figure out which one I want more right now.
As if in answer, my aching clit throbs, almost to the point of pain. I lean against the wall and spread my legs to show him what I want the most.
I flinch when he tosses my phone and necklace onto the floor and touches me. It starts with featherlight strokes down my arms, stomach, and thighs. Then his touches become heavier, more intentional. His fingers fondle the areas around my sensitive parts, skimming by my clit and nipples without any stimulation. I whimper pathetically when he lightly grazes my heated sex, and he just chuckles darkly.
“You’re so needy, baby,” he murmurs, letting his lips skate across my jaw. “Do you want me to finger that pretty pussy?”
I nod.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, please,” I say around the gag in my mouth, grinding against his thigh to get some relief.
He reaches toward his jeans, and I think he’s going to pull them down, but instead, he presses something large and cool against my inner thigh.
I gasp and look down to see his gun between my legs.
What the hell?!
Zyran laughs when my eyes widen in fear. Is he really going to shoot me?
“Relax,” he says softly, dragging the gun across my skin. “You’ll feel good in a minute. I promise.”
He quickly pulls my shorts and underwear down and discards them somewhere behind him. I stiffen when I feel the barrel lined up with my entrance.
“You would do anything to get your locket back?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he already knows the answer.
When I nod, he takes the safety off and says, “Then ride my gun like it’s the best dick you’ve ever had.”
Without warning, he slams the gun inside me, causing me to cry out from the way it stretches me apart. I don’t remember the last time I had sex, but I remember that the last guy I slept with wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy me.
Zyran’s movements are harsh, yet precise, as he angles the gun to hit that spot deep inside of me. I close my eyes and moan around the gag in my mouth. His breath fans across my neck right before he bites down, and I cry out again from the pain and pleasure of it all. It’s too much, but not enough at the same time.
I need more.
I need him .
When Zyran starts pumping the gun faster, I whimper pitifully. It feels so good, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to come without him inside me.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against my neck, licking the bite mark. “Come for me.”
I shake my head, try to tell him I can’t, even though I can feel the pressure building.
He chuckles when I start grinding against the gun. My fingernails feel like they’re about to pop off from the force of me digging them into the wall.
I try to think of anything to keep myself from coming, because I only want to come on his cock, but my orgasm comes fast—and hard.
My muffled screams fill the room as I squirt all over the gun and Zyran’s hand. He doesn’t stop pumping until he’s wrenched every bit of my orgasm out of me.
Tears fall down my cheeks, and he licks them away like he did when he tied me up in the forest.
“Good girl,” he praises before removing the gag and lifting the gun to my lips. “Now clean up the mess you made.”
Without any hesitation, my tongue shoots out and licks the gun clean of my release. When I’m done, he presses his fingers into my mouth so I can clean them, too. All the while, his eyes never leave my face. My cheeks burn from the intensity of his dark gaze within that mask I love so much and the warmth his proximity provides.
Now that I’ve done what he wants—and, let’s be honest, it’s what I wanted, too—I expect him to untie me and give my things back, but his eyes turn cold and hard when he raises the knife and presses the tip of it into my stomach.
“I’m not done with you yet, butterfly.”