Chapter 19 Reed #3
I shove him backward, his body flopping with a soft gasp. He looks up at me with those startling blue eyes and his chest panting while that beautiful, ravenous fear shines in his eyes.
“Tell me, Reed,” he dares, out of breath. “What do you want from me?”
I crawl onto the bed, caging him beneath me, one knee fixed between his thighs.
“I want everything. To strip you bare,” I purr, my words caressing his lips.
“Not only of these clothes, I want to peel back every layer of that stupid, brash smile until I find the terrified boy hiding. The one aching to be devoured.”
His lips tremble, releasing a gasp. “What if I’m not terrified?”
“Then you are a filthy liar,” I whisper, stroking his jaw. “I adore liars. Makes it easy to teach them a lesson.” I flex my knee, pushing it up higher to land in his crease, causing his pants to twitch. “Now tell me, do you want me to teach you a lesson? Or are you going to be difficult?”
A devilish smirk overtakes his lips, his tongue twirling around his lips. “What’s the punishment if I’m difficult?”
A low growl rumbles in my chest, my hand sliding from his jaw to his throat to lightly constrict around his small neck.
I feel the frantic pulse beneath my palm, begging for more.
Begging for me to break him. “The punishment is that I’ll draw this out, play it out until every one of your nerves is screaming for your mercy.
Until you forget what it feels like not to be ripped apart.
I tighten my grip, his eyes fluttering as he releases a light gasp.
“Being difficult means I get to wreck you slowly,” I whisper as dark as the night. “I’ll tear through you, organ by organ. By the time we’re finished you won’t ever crave the touch of another man. You’ll be too addicted to mine.”
His chest quivers, the devilish smirk dissolving into unadulterated lust.
“So what’s it going to be?” I loosen my grip just enough to let him speak, my thumb stroking his throbbing jugular.
He blinks up at me as if this is all a sweet nightmare, his blue eyes dazed and simmering with surrender. His voice is a ragged whisper, stripped of all earlier defiance.
“Then ruin me,” he gasps.
A feral grin slaps across my face. I’ll ruin you, more than you ever thought heavenly possible. I’ll strip you of the light until all you know is the blissful caress of my lethal touch.
I smash my lips into his, a chaotic clash of snarls and sheer yearning—a silent vow unfolding between us.
There. That’s the sound. The one I’ve been hunting for my whole life. A sharp, helpless whimper. It’s better than any bloody gurgle I’ve ever heard. This is a different kind of death. A sweeter one. The last remnants of a boy. The re-birth of a killer.
My hand fists in his hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat, to crumble the last of his resistance. “Am I the only one you’ll take? Forever?” I growl.
Say it. Lie if you have to. I’ll make the lie true. I’ll burn down the whole world until I am the only option left in your eyes. The only man that you could ever consider worthy of your beauty.
His pupils blow wide and glassy with submission, locking onto mine. For a second that stretches an eternity, the only sounds in the air are the ragged breaths and our panting chests.
“Yours,” he gasps, the word raw and true. “Only yours. Forever.”
Truth and destiny. The realization is a lightning strike through my veins, more potent than any shriek. I don’t have to convince him. He’s given himself to me.
A dark, triumphant sound rumbles from my chest. “Good.” My teeth graze his fluttering throat, like a wolf soothing its prey before the final bite. “Now let me show you what forever feels like.”
I lock my lips onto his, but this touch is different—a consummation. A dark seal to cement our devotion to one another. A sacrament that only we know of. The boy is gone forever. What rises in his place is mine, and mine alone.
My hands rip off his pants, the rip cracking through the air as he whimpers out.
I tear off his underwear, taking in his flawless legs, smooth and toned. His legs tremble as my hands caress his inner thighs, stretching them open to expose his crease and pink flesh.
My cock surges with blood, the influx nearly ripping my pants. “You are perfect, Cooper. Too fucking perfect.”
He shudders and lets out a needy moan as I raise his legs in the air, bringing my mouth down to taste his perfect flower, my tongue tracing the outline of his hole.
“You’re my alter,” I growl into his flesh. “The one I’m about to destroy.”
His ass shivers around my tongue as I plunge forward, forcing open his tightness. His cock springs upward, a small bead dripping from the head.
Yes. Cry for me. Beg for the ruin only I can give you.
My tongue works him open, a ruthless, wet invasion. The sounds he makes are a symphony of shattered composure—sharp gasps, choked moans, the raw, ragged whisper of my name.
"Reed— please—"
Please. The word is a key turning in a lock deep inside me. I pull back, my lips glistening, and look down at the masterpiece of desperation I’ve created.
"Please, what?" I demand, my voice graveled with a hunger that could level forests. "Use your words, little mouse. Tell me what you need from your killer.”
“I need you inside, I want you to stretch and use me. Fuck me hard enough, so I can’t walk tomorrow,” he rasps.
“Be careful what you wish for, little mouse.”
I grab the head of my cock, aiming for his small, fluttering hole.
I advance enough for him to grasp me and for a shriek to explode from his lips.
I feel the resistance forming around me and I wait a second to allow him to adjust. I wiggle, just a tad inside to strain his composure.
To remind him that I’m in charge. That he’s mine.
After a few generous seconds, I plow forward, spreading my delicate little mouse.
He shrieks, a beautiful mixture of agony and pleasure. “You are so fucking big, Reed.”
“Yeah?” I tease. “Just how you like it. You want a big, strong man to take care of you. To stalk you. You’re twisted Cooper, just like me.”
He whimpers out a mewl of unmistakable joy.
“We’re made for one another,” I hiss into his ear as I bury myself all the way inside his ass, breaking past the last stretch of his tight hole. “You’re made to take this dick.”
He pulls me close to him, our lips touching again in a storm of sickness and lust. I snarl into his throat as I thrust in and out, his whimpers sending feral desires through me.
He feels incredible. Like a warm, wriggling cinnamon roll that’s been lightly drizzled with existential dread and pure passion.
God, he’s perfect. And he’s all mine. Until death do us part.
I pull back to see the glazed submission spread across his face, his lips parted in unrivaled surrender.
“Fuck me harder,” he begs through those pink lips.
I growl in response, my pace increasing, delivering savage thrusts, one after another. His mouth opens further, as if it might split from the euphoria consuming his soul.
I look down to see his cock spasming on his waist, small beads of precum forming in line with my fucks. “You enjoy this, don’t you? Being used? Being consumed?”
He nods his head yes, over and over again.
I could fuck him and use him all night long. Except that he feels incredible, he makes my cock shiver inside from his succulent softness. His warmth is all consuming. He just feels fucking amazing. Like seeing the sun after thirty days of darkness.
No. Not the sun. That’s too gentle. Too kind.
He’s the flash of a scalpel in a pitch-black room. The first squirt of blood as you slice the throat. He’s the glorious, violent aftermath of a decapitation.
He’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
And I’ve never felt more at home in my entire life.
Let my family question my judgement. Let them call him weak. They don’t understand. He’s my dark beacon. My source of strength. A reflection in the mirror.
“Cooper—” I groan, my cock beginning to seize.
“What?” he rasps.
“Cum for me,” I command, holding back my mayhem.
He whimpers, stroking his cock a few times, his hand wrapping around his cock. Just the sight of it nearly sends me over the top.
I watch as his cock shoots puddles of beautiful white cream onto his belly, my cock spasming at the sight, shaking inside his tight ass as I release my spurts inside him. I shoot again and again. My body is limitless in desire for this man. He deserves every ounce of seed that I can bless him with.
Oh, what a miracle it would be if he could carry a child. I chuckle to myself through the euphoria. We would be the worst parents. Teaching our kids the cold, dark truths of the world.
I collapse to the side of him, letting our ragged breaths occupy the air. My gaze meets his, soaking in his blissful, ruined face, my chest tightening with a possessive, feral love. “Hopefully, you can’t become pregnant,” I tease.
He lets out a breathless, giddy laugh, his hand trembling on my chest. “Why? Scared of a little demon running around?”
“Horrified,” I admit, running my fingers across his sternum. “Our child would be dissecting their teddy bear.”
Cooper lets out a dark, delighted chuckle. “They would be an excellent biologist though, lots of practice demonstrating how lye accelerates decomposition.”
“While giving their teacher nightmares for a month,” I finish, my lips landing on his. “No, sweetheart. The world deserves to survive our bloodline. Let’s be content with corrupting each other and cleansing the scum of this Earth.”
He gives me a wicked smile. “Who says we can’t do both? We could raise an army of tiny sociopaths. Homeschool them in waterboarding techniques.”
“But we would be too busy with our plans, they’d have to attend public school,” I murmur, kissing his cheeks. “Imagine parent-teacher conferences discussing blade lengths instead of algebra.”
His laughter is deep and rich, vibrating through both of us. “They’d be so proud of our little prodigy.”
“Too late,” I growl, rolling to pin him beneath me. “You’re the only monster I want to spoil rotten.”
If only every night could be like this. A casual assassination eliminating a religious fanatic with a little bit of aftercare.
I don’t want to return to Wolfston. Return to the impending chaos of the Baptiste assault. The expectations, the weight of a legacy I never asked for.
I want to run away with Cooper. Just us, a trunk full of weapons, and a list of names. Slaughtering one son of a bitch at a time. No family rules or extended council meetings. Just his wicked smile across a blood-splattered room and his warm body curled against mine in a cheap hotel room after.
To make the world a better place with my mouse at my side.