Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
"Look at her. " Toro's voice was a scrape of sound against her ear.
He turned her head with the grip on her collar, forcing her to look at the crumpled shape on the floor.
The cream coat. The dark, spreading halo.
The open eyes that no longer saw anything.
"Look at what happens to people who try to take you from me.
Look at what I did to the woman who thought she could pay for your death and walk away clean.
She is meat now. She is evidence. She is the message the rest of them are going to receive.
" His hips never slowed. Every word was punctuated by the thick, driving rhythm of his cock.
"You belong to me. No one touches what is mine.
No one threatens what is mine. No one gets to imagine a world where you are gone and they are still breathing. "
Allie's hands came up to frame his blood-streaked face.
Her thumbs traced the sharp architecture of his cheekbones.
Her fingers pressed into the short hair at his temples.
She looked into the dark, burning focus of his eyes and felt the orgasm building at the base of her spine like pressure before a storm.
"She's dead," Allie said. The words were half a moan, half a declaration. "You killed her. For me. You slit her throat and held her hair while she bled out and I watched and now I can still feel her blood on my skin while you fuck me—" Toro’s command was absolute
"Come. Come on my cock while you're still wet with her blood.
" The orgasm detonated. Allie's back arched off the metal table.
A raw, guttural cry ripped out of her throat and bounced off the concrete walls and came back to her fractured and strange.
Her cunt clamped down around him in hard, rhythmic waves that seemed to go on longer than her lungs could support.
She was still looking at Kenzie's body when it hit—still staring at the woman who had tried to erase her while the man who had killed her drove deeper and deeper into the place that belonged to him.
The dual sensation of death inches away and life pounding into her core was the most devastating thing she had ever felt.
Toro fucked her through every pulse of it.
His rhythm never broke. His grip on the collar never loosened.
He watched her face with the same unblinking focus he had used to watch Kenzie die, and when her climax finally began to ease into shuddering aftershocks, he pulled out of her without warning and flipped her onto her stomach.
Her chest hit the cold metal. Her hips were dragged back to the edge.
He spread her with both hands—one still slick with Kenzie's blood, the other clean—and drove back into her cunt from behind with a force that shoved her forward and made the table legs screech against the floor.
The new angle was merciless. He fucked her deep and fast, one hand braced on the table beside her head, the other wrapped around her hip hard enough to leave new bruises atop the old ones.
Her breasts pressed into the metal. The silver ring of her collar clinked against the table's edge with every thrust. She could see the dark pool on the floor from this angle—could see the way it had grown while they fucked, the way Kenzie's body had finished emptying itself onto the concrete, the way the evidence of what he had done for her was now literally underfoot.
"Again," Toro growled against her ear. His chest pressed against her spine, the heat of him enveloping her.
"I want to feel you come again while you're looking at her.
I want every muscle in your body to know that this is what happens when you are threatened.
I want the memory of this—the blood and the fucking and the sound of my voice—to be the first thing your body remembers every time you think of Kenzie Morales.
" His hand slid around her hip. Two fingers found her clit—swollen and slick and achingly sensitive from the first orgasm—and began rubbing in tight, merciless circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts exactly.
The second climax crashed through her before she could brace for it.
This one was sharper. More violent. It ripped a sound from her chest that was closer to a sob than a moan, and her body clamped down around him so hard that he hissed through his teeth and finally, finally lost the last thread of his control.
His hips slammed forward and locked. His forehead pressed into the back of her neck.
The low, guttural sound he made as he spilled inside her vibrated against her spine and traveled all the way down to the silver cuff at her wrist. Thick, hot pulses filled her. She felt every one.
They stayed like that—his body draped over hers, her cheek pressed to the cold metal, the blood cooling on both their skins—while the aftershocks faded and the room grew quiet enough for the hum of the bulb to return.
The phone on the floor was still recording.
The microphone had captured everything. The wet sounds of the kill, the confession still ringing in the air, and now the ragged, slowing rhythm of their breathing as they came down together.
Toro pulled out slowly. The emptiness was immediate and profound.
He turned her onto her back with gentle hands that seemed to belong to a different man than the one who had just slit a throat and then fucked her through the aftermath.
His dark eyes moved over her body—the blood smeared across her breasts and stomach and thighs, the fresh marks on her hips, the collar dark against her throat, the silver cuff still glinting at her wrist.
"You are marked," he said. His voice was hoarse now, the control stripped down to something raw and human.
"Her blood. My come. The leather. The silver.
Every piece of evidence on your body says you are mine and anyone who threatens you dies.
" Allie reached up. Her fingers traced the streak of Kenzie's blood still drying on his jaw.
She pressed her thumb against it—warm, thickening, already beginning to flake at the edges—and then brought the digit to her mouth.
The taste was salt and iron and something darker, something that would never wash out of her memory.
"Together," she said. The word was quiet and absolute.
Toro held her gaze for a long moment. Then he bent his head and pressed a single, deliberate kiss against the silver ring of her collar.
When he straightened, the blade was back in his hand.
He wiped it clean on the hem of her ruined shirt with the same casual, efficient motion he used for everything that had already been decided.
Kenzie's body lay cooling on the concrete. The pool of blood had stopped spreading. The phone still glowed green in the corner, recording silence.
The first name on the list was finished. The blood on his hands—and hers—had sealed more than a kill. It had sealed the understanding that they would finish the rest together, no matter how deep the red ran.