Chapter 27
I look up from my book at the familiar click of the bathroom door opening. My heart swells at the sight of Evelyn walking out, her damp hair in a loose braid, her small frame drowning in one of my loose black shirts, the neckline too big, slipping off her slim shoulder. I catch a glimpse of the hem of one of my boxer briefs, loose around her thighs, hidden by the shirt. She asked for something black to wear to sleep because she was worried about getting blood on the white clothes. And even though I was against it at first, refusing to look at her in anything but white. I”m glad I gave in. The sight of her wearing my clothes has to be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
I close my book then sit up straight and watch her as she walks around the bed to her side and climbs onto the mattress. But instead of joining me under the blankets, she sits on her knees and makes herself comfortable in the middle of the bed, facing me.
”Everything okay, Dove?”
”Yes, but I’ve been thinking.”
”About what?” I raise my eyebrows and put my book down on the bedside table.
”You know pretty much everything about me, but I hardly know anything about you, aside from the bits and pieces I gathered from being in your home and talking to Mrs. Collins,” she explains. ”And of course, the few little things you actually told me yourself.”
”You want to know more about me?”
”Yes?” she asks, the surprise in her voice making it sound like a question. ”If you want me to feel comfortable in this strange situation…we”re in. I need more than what you”re offering. Right now, you”re so focused on love-bombing me in order to get me to forgive you, clearly trying to compensate for trying to kill me and everything else you”ve done to me. But that”s not going to work in the long run.” She falls silent for a brief moment. ”Or do you really think it will?”
”I don”t know,” I answer honestly, surprised by what she’s saying. I will need to look up the term ‘love-bombing’ later, because I”m not exactly sure what she”s talking about. But it sounds like a not-so-good term from the way she said it. Since I brought her home, I”ve been doing everything I can to make her feel at ease. I never really considered that she might need to get to know me to feel comfortable. No one has ever been curious enough to find out who I really am. Maybe she”s not as opposed to staying with me as I first thought. I should have just taken her much earlier.
”I”m fine right now.” She breaks me out of my thoughts. ”But it”s only been a week, and you”ve been nice, and I enjoy you showering me with attention and gifts, but that won”t be enough forever. As time goes on, I think I”ll go insane if we don”t start trusting each other.”
”Trust?” I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper. It”s such a short and easy word to say out loud, but it”s one with a lot of meaning that”s very hard to gain. I take a deep breath. ”Okay, you can ask me whatever you want, and I will try to answer honestly.”
”Then let”s start with the basics.” Her face lights up with what I think is hope. She adjusts her position and scoots a little closer to me. ”Favorite color?”
”White.”
”Favorite animal?”
”Doves, of course.”
”Favorite book?” Her eyes drift to the book on my bedside table.
”The Dark Half by Stephen King.”
”Favorite movie?”
”The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock.”
”How do you like to spend your free time?”
”At home. Reading. With you. Taking care of my birds.”
”Biggest pet peeve?”
”Being late.”
”What are you most afraid of?”
”Next.”
”Biggest regret in life?”
”Next.”
”Favorite childhood memory?”
”Next.”
I shoot her a warning glare, but she deliberately ignores it, even though I know she has seen it. She follows up with more questions about my past, trying to dig into my childhood. But I skip over every question about that chapter of my life. When she found out my real name, she must have seen the documents showing that I grew up in foster care. And that is all she needs to know right now. We won”t unleash those demons tonight, and I would prefer that we never do.
Eventually, she gets the hint and drops the whole topic. ”What does your perfect day look like?”
”As long as you”re with me, every day is perfect,” I say, noticing how a soft hue of pink spreads across her fair skin.
”Why me? Why didn”t you just kill me?” She takes her eyes off me and begins nervously picking at the sheets.
I stay silent and lean back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Raising my hand, I run my fingers through the loose strands of my hair. Why? Indeed. My brain is operating at high speed. She had asked me something similar on our drive back to New York, but I had deliberately ignored her because I didn”t have an answer at the time. Tipping my head to the side, my eyes land on her again, waiting for my answer.
I take a deep breath and let the air escape my lungs with a heavy sigh.
”While I was watching you, I learned your every move, what you like and dislike, how you interact with others, friends, strangers, animals, you name it. And despite our similar past, compared to me and others, you appear so pure, so kind, and so gentle to those around you. With each passing day, I found myself falling deeper into an obsession. To me, you”re like a white dove in a world of crows.” The words fall from my mouth with such ease that I don”t even realize the meaning they hold. ”I was torn between fulfilling my duty to kill you and not wanting to because you are the missing piece in my collection. When you cried out my name in that hut while I was pounding into you, something inside of me snapped. I don”t care about the job. I don’t care about anything. I know I’m being selfish, but I need you. I”ve felt dead inside for the longest time, but you awakened something in me, emotions I thought had died a long time ago with my first kill.” My heart races at my own confession, hammering against my chest.
She sits paralyzed in front of me, her eyes wide open in shock. The only movement is the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath she takes. ”You are fucking crazy,” she finally says and moves, pushing herself up, throwing herself at me, and wrapping her arms around my neck.
I gasp at the impact of her body slamming into mine, and my arms wrap around her middle, holding her in place. ”Did I say something stupid?” She shakes her head wildly, her face buried in the crook of my neck, and my head bobs from side to side in response.
”Not at all. I just didn”t expect it,” she says, lifting her head to look at me with a smile before she leans closer and presses her lips to mine. I blink several times, surprised by the kiss.
She spreads her legs and straddles my hips as she lies on top of me, her soft tits covered by my shirt, pressing against my chest. My hands slide from her hips to her ass, cupping her cheeks and squeezing her tender flesh. A familiar warmth pools in my abdomen, and my blood shoots between my legs. It takes every ounce of self-control in me not to throw her onto the bed and take what I want. I don”t care about the period blood, but she said she doesn”t feel comfortable enough for sex right now. I will respect that, but it is so fucking difficult, because, in all honesty, I want nothing more than to be covered in her blood. A low moan escapes me as she readjusts her position, accidentally or intentionally putting more of her weight on my now hard cock. ”Sorry,” I say in a hushed voice, as my lips brush against hers.
”It”s okay.”
”Are you sure?” I ask, and she nods, then puts her hands on my shoulders, pushing herself up and looking down at me lying in the pillows.
”I should be the one asking if you are sure you really want this.”
I can”t help the mischievous little grin that spreads across my face. ”Dove, I want nothing more than you to paint my cock red,” I say with a husky voice. Her grip on my shoulder tightens, and I watch as she sucks her lower lip between her teeth, nervously chewing the kissable soft flesh. Her cheeks heat up and turn a deeper shade of red, as if she had too much wine.
”Before we do it, two simple rules.” Her voice is thick with nervous energy. ”Number one, no oral. Number two, you can finger me, but no licking your fingers clean.”
A low groan is enough to express my disappointment. ”But what if I want to taste you?”
”No.”
”But—”
”If you break one of the rules, we stop immediately,” she insists.
”Understood.” I accept my loss.
”Good.” She smiles and plants a soft kiss on my lips. Eager to take what I want, I slip my hands under the soft fabric of her shirt, lift the material until I can pull it over her head, and toss it aside–leaving her in nothing but my boxers. With my feet propped up on the mattress, I flip her over and drop her down into the soft pillows, then crawl between her spread legs. I lower myself onto her and crash my mouth against hers in a passionate, messy kiss. Still separated by the thin layer of fabric that covers us both, I grind my hard cock against her, hungry for friction. Her arms fly around my shoulders, and she digs her fingers into my skin. Her moans are muffled by my tongue invading her mouth.
I balance my body weight with my right arm, not wanting to crush her. With my left hand, I cup one of her perfectly sized tits. I have never been a fan of big boobs. Hers aren’t too big and not too small, just the way I like them–fitting perfectly in the palm of my hand. I give the soft flesh a playful squeeze before pinching her hard nipple between my fingers. In response, she squirms and whimpers underneath me.
Letting go of her tit, I move my hand between us, pushing past the waistband of my borrowed boxers to her cunt. I press my finger against her sensitive clit, and she bucks her hips forward to meet my touch. ”You”re already so fucking wet for me,” I whisper against her lips, trailing soft kisses from the corner of her mouth to her jaw and down her neck. I push my fingers between her folds, brushing against her exposed flesh. It feels different, thicker than normal. She moans at the pressure of my fingers against her throbbing opening, but we”re not there yet. Drenched in arousal and blood, my fingers return to her clit, circling the tiny bundle of nerves in slippery motions. The growing pressure between my legs is almost unbearable, and I force myself to slow down because all I want is to dive right into that waiting crimson pool of blood.
”More,” she begs between moans, her nails bruising my already scarred skin.
I can”t resist her begging and push my finger between her folds and press against her opening. Her body welcomes my intrusion, but I freeze when I feel something against the tip of my fingers inside her that shouldn”t be there, at least not if we are going to take this any further.
When I slide my fingers out of her, she whines in response. I pull back to make enough room for me to grab the waistband of her boxers and pull the fabric off of her. A look of confusion spreads across her beautiful flushed face. But I ignore her, trying to avoid her eyes, I spread her legs where I see the small thread of the object that interrupted me.
My target.
I grab the string and pull. Every inch of her body tenses. I watch her cunt closely, observing every pulse of her muscles as the tampon slides out. I don”t even have to look at her to see the horror on her face; I can feel it. When I have the blood-soaked little meddler where I want it, I grab a handful of tissues, wrap it up, and toss it aside.
I then turn and look at her with a reassuring smile. Her face is flushed, and she looks like she is about to bolt. Sliding back between her legs, I lower myself onto her, pressing my lips against hers, trying to distract her from the small, unwelcome interruption.
She throws her arms around my shoulders while I dominate the passionate exchange of our lips, and slowly but surely, she eases back into our shared moment. Her hands run down my back, her nails bumping into the uneven ridges of my scars. She dips her hands into my boxers and cups my ass in her hands, forcing me to grind against her.
”Impatient, are we?”
”Shut up and fuck me,” she says between her ragged breaths and pushes down the waistband of my boxers, freeing my hard cock.
”No more foreplay?” I help her and toss the unwanted piece of clothing aside.
”No, I need you to be inside me. Now.” She moans.
”As you wish.”
I love the fact that she is as impatient as I am. I push myself up on my knees again and look down at the mess she has become. Her braid has come loose, and her hair is spread all over the sheets. Her body is glistening with sweat. And her cunt is a work of art. Thick Blood mixed with her arousal paints her skin from the source between her legs all over her inner thighs. I bite my lower lip, resisting the urge to dive in head first. Today, I won”t be dining. I”ll just be looking. One day, she might let me have a taste of her blood.
I grab her thighs and drag her across the bed closer to me, drawing a startled yelp from her, and I shove a pillow under her ass to keep her up. I lift one of her feet to rest on my shoulder and slide my hand between us, wrapping my fingers around my cock and giving myself a few good pumps. My attention falls on her cunt as I slip the head of my cock between her folds, watching her arousal and her blood coat my length. When I look at her, I find her eyes on me, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she waits for me to thrust in.
I grip her leg tight and push through the small opening. Her body welcomes me and allows me to thrust in with ease. I shut my eyes, my breath stuttering at the sensation of her dripping heat wrapping around me. She moans, her muscles contracting in waves, squeezing me tight. God, I love this woman. She has ruined me, and I will never be able to fuck any other woman again.
I open my eyes again and look down at her, clutching the sheets, waiting for me. ”I need a second,” I say through a heavy breaths.
The sensation is overwhelming. My eyes drift to where our hips connect, my pubic hair already slicked with blood. I ease out and watch as my now blood-covered cock slides out of her. The sight alone makes my heart jump in my chest and sends a thrill down my spine. I want this. Every day.
I swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath before slamming back into her, drawing a high-pitched moan from her as our hips collide.
My grip on her leg tightens and I chase the high, my movements rough as I thrust into her. My free hand settles on her pubic bone, my thumb finding her clit, flicking the sensitive nub as I continue my assault on her.
Every time our hips crash into each other, a deep grunt leaves my throat, while her moans are loud and high. The only other noise that fills the room is the wet squirting sound every time I drive into her dripping wet cunt.
Her eyes are closed, her head thrown back into the pillow as she submits to me. Her mouth is wide open and moans pour out of her in the rhythm of my thrusts. I concentrate on playing her clit and finding the perfect angle at which I hit that special spot inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Her body begins to tremble, and her muscles spasm around me. I got her.
Not changing any of my movements, I push her over the edge. She cries out when her orgasm surges through her, her insides squeeze me tight and her back arches off the bed in response to every muscle in her body tightening. The pulsating of her ring of muscles around me is enough to push me to my limits, too. Chasing my own orgasm, I guide her through her own. It doesn”t take long for me to reach my limit; my hips begin to stutter, and I lose my rhythm. With one last thrust, I bury myself deep inside her, and with every twitch of my cock I push my cum inside her.
As soon as the adrenaline from our shared orgasm wears off, I collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap tightly around me, and I rest my head against her chest, listening to her rapid heartbeat. Our heavy breaths fall into sync. Her tits press against my cheek, and I know I am in heaven. For a long time, we lie in bed, in the mess of fluids, our naked limbs intertwined.
”We should take a shower.” She breaks the comfortable silence. ”Change the sheets too.” She follows up with a chuckle.