Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Josie
King grips my hip and gives it a squeeze. “When I put it inside you, it will be. I’ll disengage the safety as well. And if you continue to be a little brat, I’ll prove it to you.”
I smile against the cold rock beneath my face. He’s not lying, and that makes this even more terrifying, which only amps up the desire between my thighs. When he puts that weapon inside me, one slip of the finger could be the end.
Skin touches my pussy, and I jerk away from the warmth. King’s hand lands on my hip again.
“I’m merely ensuring you’re wet enough,” he whispers, “but I’m using my hand.”
I relax against the boulder again. I realize full well that it makes no sense to focus so heavily on consent when I’m practically creaming at the thought of shoving a loaded shotgun inside me, but the joy of accepting one’s own insanity is that it doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else.
King taught me that, and embracing his philosophy is why I never landed myself in another psych ward.
Two thick and very experienced fingers ease inside me, and my eyes cross. I do my best unintentional ahegao face and enjoy every moment of the warmup before the big game. He works my pussy, slowly at first, before scissoring his fingers inside me.
I roll my head and glance up at the tree. The dirty little child killer grips the limb with all his might, and both eyes are wide open now. Is he . . . is he pulling a set of spectacles from his breast pocket? Does someone want a closer look?
Biting my lip, I turn my head so the man can’t see my smile. “He’s watching us. Better make it a good one.”
“It’s always a good one with me.” He rubs my pleasure over my clit to prove his point, and my toes curl into the dirt. “See? Such a good girl when you aren’t being difficult.”
The praise goes straight to my pussy.
“Fuck, I’m ready.” I press my breasts into the boulder and arch my back. I say the next part as loudly as I can without coming off too hammy. I want the guy in the tree to hear me, but I don’t want him to know that. “I want you to fill me up. Can you fill me up and make me feel so good?”
Okay. Maybe just a touch hammy.
King catches on immediately, raising his voice a bit as he says, “Spread those legs and let me see how wet you are.”
I part my thighs, and King lets out a low whistle.
“Damn. You are dripping, love.”
The low growl to his voice, and the way he says love like a prayer . . . like a question he’s asking . . .
“Yes,” I moan. “Please, I’m so ready. Fucking fill me.”
He pumps the shotgun, ejecting the spent shell and pushing the loaded cartridge into the chamber. The cold barrel presses against my pussy, and I flinch.
I wouldn’t say it glides in smoothly. In fact, it’s downright uncomfortable, if I’m being honest, but I need an orgasm like I need my next breath.
I always think more clearly after I’ve cleared the lust haze.
Granted, clearing the fog with my ex isn’t my finest show of intelligence, but he’s so good at it.
I just have to trust that he’ll somehow make this enjoyable.
“Touch yourself, love,” he says, and I realize he isn’t using his pet name for me.
Because there are things more private than naked bodies and intimate moments. There are secrets between lovers that won’t be shared like this.
Unwanted feelings spring to life in my chest as I drive my hand between my legs. Yeah. I need to get off, and fast.
I press my forehead to the rock and batter my clit with my fingers.
He stays behind me, working the barrel until it actually starts to feel good.
But unfortunately, I’m catching a cramp in my forearm, and I can’t keep up this pace.
The crackhead-DJ-record-scratch move usually works every time, but of course it fails me now.
“Be good and come for me,” he says behind me.
I want to. I really do. But something is holding me back.
King senses that something isn’t right. He removes the gun and rests it against the boulder as he replaces the empty feeling with his fingers. Leaning against my body, he kisses the back of my neck.
“Is the gun too uncomfortable?” he whispers.
I shake my head. “It didn’t feel great at first, but the threat of death is a nice clit tickler, and it actually felt kind of good once I found the right rhythm.”
“Give him a moan.” He nips my neck.
“Oh, fuck yes,” I cry. “Ooh, touch my pussy like that!”
“Damn, you are good.” He nips my skin again, and my back arches and pushes my ass against his cock. God, I want that inside me.
He leans closer to my ear. “If you make a mess on this shotgun, I promise to find and make an example of whichever feckless bastard fucked over Ice Pick. It wasn’t me, and I swear to take you straight to Chef Maurice so that he can give you the entire truth the moment we’re back at camp.”
Is that what’s blocking my ability to get off?
If so, maybe I had it wrong all along. Maybe he didn’t fuck Charity.
I look over my shoulder, straight into his slate-blue eyes. The honesty I see there makes me second-guess everything I am.
Or is that my desperation for an orgasm talking?
Only one way to find out.
I bat my lashes and push my ass against him. “Make me come, King.”
He bites down on my neck before stepping back and admiring me again.
“Don’t tease me!” I squeal. “Get over here and make me come!”
I watch over my shoulder as he smirks and goes for the gun. Feelings spring to life again, and I’ve never wanted anything more than that living statue in a high-vis vest. How did I ever believe I could do this without falling for his accent and his muscles and his charm?
Shut up and get off! my pussy screams.
And she’s right. My cavewoman brain takes control—less think, more sex.
I brace as the cold metal brushes my slit, but instead of putting it inside me, he slides it beneath me at an angle so that I can grind on it.
“Is this more comfortable?” he asks.
I nod and rock my hips. Icy steel soothes the searing heat between my thighs. I feel every inch of his velvet rebar rubbing against my ass each time I rock backward. I’m losing the battle, and I’m about to ask him to give me what I really need right now. Penetration. But not just that.
I need him.
Even after all this time, he knows my body well. He senses exactly what I need, but I haven’t consented. I haven’t asked. How can I now? I’m supposed to be angry, right?
Oh, fuck it.
“King, I want you to—”
Thwack. Thump, thwack, thwack.
Thump!
I had completely forgotten about the guy in the tree. He’s very much at the forefront of my mind now, though, as he lies in a crumpled mess at the base of the wobbling pine. King backs away from me and starts putting on his pants as the man grunts and groans.
“Do you think he’s nearly dead?” I ask King.
He tosses my clothes to me. “We’ll find out once you’re dressed. He doesn’t get more of a show than he’s already had. I bloody forgot he was there, if I’m being honest.”
“Same,” I say, though I never would have admitted it if he hadn’t first. “Hey, leave off the shirt. I kind of like the vest-over-bare-chest look.”
He studies the vest, then shakes his head. “We’ll pop it into the closet for next time.”
My heart squeezes at the mention of a next time. If it’s true and he didn’t fuck Charity, a next time might actually be on my radar.
Once we’ve finished dressing, we head to the base of the tree. Our target lies on his back with both legs bent in ways human anatomy never intended. Foamy pink spittle froths around his lips. He looks like a rabid newborn piglet.
King loads the shotgun and steps over the man.
“Make him clean it off before you blow his brains out,” I say. “Wait, better yet, blow his brains out while he’s cleaning it off.”
“I won’t stand by as another man tastes you,” King grumbles, and he’s already wiping off the barrel with his shirt.
Meanwhile, I’m pissed that my orgasm was so rudely interrupted.
I straddle the man and squat over his chest, since his abdomen is far too distended and I wish to touch no part of him. He looks up at me, a whimper lodged in his pink, pudgy throat, and I laugh into his terrified face.
“I bet the kids were more scared than you are right now. You didn’t care, did you?” I cock my head and lean closer to his face. “I bet I care less about you than you did about them, asshole.”
He lets out a scream as I rise and step over his body. By the way he doesn’t move from the neck down, I can only assume he has some serious nerve damage somewhere in his spinal region.
“Sucks to suck, dude,” I say with a shrug as King readies the shotgun and places the barrel against the man’s sweaty dome. “Any final words before he sends your brains to Australia?”
King depresses the trigger, and birds scatter from the trees. The guy’s head caves, becoming a garbled mess of tissue, bone, and an intact nose where an ear should have been.
I motion for King’s knife, and he rolls his eyes and hands it over.
“I told you, I’m not doing it again.”
“Yes. Yes, you are doing it again,” I say. “But if we can’t get at least one more kill, we won’t have enough.”
“Do you really think you can find another person to join us?”
“I thought you said you weren’t doing it again.” I smirk and point the knife at him. “Gotcha, bitch.”
Once I’ve cut the disappointing penis free, I plop it into my vest pocket and strap the tag to his wrist. Then I stand up to admire our collective efforts. King wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we look at the dead body together.
“Just like old times,” he says with a sigh.
I sigh too. “I’m still horny, King.”
“I know, my beauty. You’re always still horny.” He smiles down at me, and my insides twist. “Let’s go see if we can bag a few more bloke bits for your game. Just . . . don’t feel disappointed if no one wishes to play, okay?”
“So long as I don’t have to play alone.” I pout up at him.
His smile drops. “Fine. If no one else will play with you, I’ll do it.”
“I bet Blayne will,” I say.
He goes to swat my ass, but I skip out of his hold with my sights set on the next victim, and as luck would have it, it’s another man. I can’t wait to see who’s up for some fun tonight.