Chapter 21 #2
She crouched in front of him and tilted her head slightly, studying him the way someone might examine a stain. Then she looked up at me. “Sit him up,” she said calmly. “And loosen the gag. I want him to choke on this properly.”
Without a word, I nudged him onto his back with my foot, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and hauled him upright until he slumped against the armchair. Then I pulled the tie from his mouth.
“Open your mouth,” she said calmly. Then her voice sharpened. “Open it, you filthy animal.”
He tried to laugh. It came out wet and broken.
He didn’t open it.
“Do as she says,” I told him quietly.
He glared at me through swollen lids, stubborn even now. So I reached down, fisted my hand in his hair, and wrenched his head back. The movement pulled at the blade lodged in his shoulder and he screamed—raw, cracked, desperate.
“Open,” I repeated.
His jaw trembled. He gave in.
She lifted the first glass.
The milk poured slowly at first, a thin white stream slipping past his lips. He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but I tightened my grip, forcing his head back farther. The milk spilled over his tongue, down his throat. He gagged instantly.
He tried to cough it out, but it flooded his mouth, his nose. White liquid spilled from his nostrils as he choked, sputtering, jerking against my hold.
She didn’t rush.
She kept pouring.
His eyes bulged. Milk ran down his chin, soaking into his already blood-stained shirt. He tried to twist away, but every movement sent another jolt of pain through his shoulder and he collapsed back, gasping for air he couldn’t catch.
He sucked in a breath—milk went with it. He choked harder, coughing violently, the sound thick and desperate.
She emptied the first glass.
He sagged forward, hacking, trying to clear his airway.
She picked up the second glass.
“No,” he croaked, barely audible.
She tipped his chin up with two fingers.
“Yes.”
And she began again.
When the second glass was empty, she rose to her feet, legs trembling from the slow burn of adrenaline and release.
Felix was still coughing wetly, mucus and milk bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
I stepped forward and yanked the gag back over his mouth, tying it tight as he let out a hoarse, sputtering groan.
I looked at her and for a heartbeat, I thought I’d pushed her too far—that this was the moment it all cracked, the moment she slipped beyond something I couldn’t fix. I’d never seen her like that before. Not even close.
But then she looked at me.
And in her eyes, I saw no ruin—only lust, tangled with vengeance. Scorching relief, like a scream finally released.
Then she kissed me again. Fierce. Desperate. Feral. And fuck—my chest burned with pride. She hadn’t backed down. She chose violence, and she owned it.
And yeah—it was hot as hell.
I gripped her face, devoured her mouth, felt her nails drag down my chest as if she needed to prove to herself I was real.
She broke the kiss first, eyes dark with something between reverence and hunger. My jacket slid down her arms. Then her fingers went to the wreckage of her dress, and she peeled it away, slow but sure. She was bare now—save for her panties—and shaking with the force of what she’d just done.
She reached for my zipper, slowly dragging it down.
My lips pressed into a thin line as a sharp breath slipped out through my nose.
I knew exactly why she was doing this, and fuck if my cock didn’t react instantly—already hardening at the sight of her stripping down like that, just for me.
But Felix was still there, gagged but conscious, witnessing every goddamn second.
And I hated that. Hated giving him even that.
“Malaya,” I muttered, my forehead against hers. “There’s a fucking corpse in the room. That bastard’s tied up watching us. What are you doing?”
She was breathing hard now, lips parted, her eyes locked on mine and blazing.
“I want him to see,” she said. “To know who I belong to.”
She turned to Felix, every syllable landing like a blade. “You thought I was touching myself, didn’t you?” she said, her voice breathy, aroused. “No. He was the one fucking me. And I loved every second.”
I should’ve stopped her. But I couldn’t.
Because the way she stood there, naked and shaking but still looking like she owned the fucking world, made my chest burn and my cock throb.
She sank to her knees in front of me, deliberate and unafraid, fingers finishing what she’d started at my zipper.
I caught a breath, my hand sliding into her hair on instinct.
Her lips parted, her breath coming fast as she freed me, eyes locked on mine with a hunger that sent a bolt of heat straight through me.
She took me in with pure fury—raw, vengeful want that tasted like blood.
Her mouth was hot and wet, gagging around me, spit slicking her lips and chin, eyes watering as she worked me like she wanted to ruin me.
I fisted her hair and groaned low, unable to look away from the sight of her completely unbothered by the man tied up behind us.
Felix made a sound then—muffled, furious. I heard it through the tie I’d gagged him with: “Fucking whore.”
I thought, just for a second, about the gun holstered at my waist. My hand brushed over it, fingers twitching with temptation. It would be so easy to draw, to put a bullet between his eyes right here, right now. But that would be too quick. He deserved worse.
Kira didn’t stop. She just lifted one middle finger high in his direction without ever breaking rhythm.
She didn’t stop until she was ready, dragging it out like she wanted to break me. And I swear I was ready to beg—on my fucking knees if she asked. My cock was rock hard, throbbing painfully. Just the sight of her like this blurred everything else, spiking my lust to a level I’d never felt before.
She stepped back and peeled her panties down slow, dragging the damp lace along her thighs like she wanted me to see just how wet she was.
Then she climbed onto the bed and dropped to her elbows, arching her back until her ass was perfectly raised, legs spread just enough to tease.
She looked over her shoulder, mouth parted, eyes blazing.
No words. Just a silent dare: come fuck me like I’m yours.
And fuck if I won’t.
I shoved my pants down along with my underwear, kicking them aside as I stalked toward her like a predator, dick pulsing hard, veins standing out, ready to bury deep the second I reached her.
I grabbed her hips, pulling her toward me with a growl.
I dragged my palm up the length of her spine, watching her shiver from the contact, and then I drove into her in one brutal, claiming thrust. Her gasp burst out of her and spread through the room.
I fucked her like I needed Felix to hear everything—the slap of skin, the moans, the wet, obscene sounds of her cunt swallowing me with every thrust. She was slick and aching, already on the edge, welcoming me like her body had been waiting for this exact moment.
She fucked back just as hard, hips snapping up to meet me, all instinct, no thought, pure animal rhythm.
She moaned low, breath hitching as her fingers slid between her thighs, brushing my cock with every thrust. Her eyes were locked on mine—dark, desperate, drunk on everything we were doing.
Then, without warning, she dragged her slick fingers up her body and slipped them past her lips, sucking them slow, like she was tasting something divine.
Her lashes fluttered, a whimper escaping her as if the flavor of us together had ruined her completely.
I nearly lost it right there, hips slamming harder, desperate to push her over the edge.
In that moment, she was art. Messy, wild, and utterly sublime.
“My crazy beautiful girl,” I rasped, arm clamped around her waist, hand gripping the nape of her neck hard enough to feel her pulse. “You feel like something I know I shouldn’t have… and fuck if that doesn’t make me want you even more.”
I forced her gently but firmly down onto her stomach, climbed over her, and slid back into her in one rough motion that made her cry out instantly.
My body covered hers completely, my chest pressed to her back, my hands wrapping around her wrists and pinning them to the bed as I slammed into her again and again, teeth scraping her neck.
I felt her start to tighten around me, her breath hitching in sharp, desperate little gasps.
I clamped my palm over her mouth before the cry could escape.
“No, Kira,” I growled low against her ear, hips still driving deep.
“I don’t want him hearing how you scream when you come for me. That noise is mine.”
She came with a choked cry, her pussy clamping down so tight around me I saw white. I growled her name, fucking her through the aftershocks, until she was shaking and pleading, voice wrecked, telling me not to stop even when her body couldn’t take more.
I pulled out at the last second and came hard, spilling across her ass and lower back, panting like I’d just fought a war.
We stayed like that, the room thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and something feral. My chest heaving. Her body trembling. Both of us raw and wrecked.
I reached over, grabbed a corner of the sheet, and wiped her down—slow, careful, like I was touching something sacred. Then I looked at the tied-up piece of shit on the floor, smirked, and said, “Thanks for the room, man.” I even winked.
Kira giggled, burying her face in the crook of her arm, and something twisted warm and fierce inside me. Fuck, I loved that sound. Loved that I could still make her laugh, even here, even now.
I dropped beside her and kissed her shoulder, still flushed and trembling. “I’ll get you some clothes,” I murmured, brushing her hair back, my tone already shifting as I turned my eyes back to Felix. “Then I’ll take care of this mess.”