It’d made me feel a fuckuva lot better when I got my hands on the fucker later on at the clubhouse. When I strung him up from the ceiling and worked him over like a human punching bag. Normally, I liked my knives, but sometimes fists, intimate and painful pounding in a man’s flesh, suited me just fine.
Unfortunately, he knew nothing. Or not nothing. He seemed to know too much about Bea. Enough to make me wonder if I wasn’t the only one in her life with an obsession. Me and the serial killer. Eric didn’t suit the profile for the murderer, but I didn’t believe in psychology so much as I believed in my own intuition. And something told me that little creep was up to no good.
I warned him to keep the fuck back from Bea, but refrained from killing him then and there or threatening to do so if he didn’t get the fuck out of her life. Bea liked the asshole for some reason, and while normally I gave zero fucks about what people thought, the idea of making that pretty face frown skittered disappointment down the piano keys of my spine.
When I looked back at the window minutes later, a routine check, Bea was still there.
And the light was on.
I blinked, hoping the image was a mirage, a hallucination cast by the devil to tempt me inexorably into the only sin I’d ever feared.
But she was still there in the window.
Even backlit, it was obvious what she was doing.
Undressing.
My mouth went dry as I watched her, unable to pry my eyes away for anything.
She moved slowly, sure but hesitant as if she had never taken off her clothes for someone before.
My cock turned to stone instantly at the thought. She was known as a good girl and just twenty years old, but the thought of her virginity had never truly crossed my mind.
I hadn’t let it.
Now, it seared through my synapses, leaving lurid images branded on my consciousness. The sight of her face as I gave her the only pleasure she’d ever known. My dirty, bloodstained, violence-roughened hands on all that pure flesh, mapping it so I could claim every inch of it as my own. Pushing inside that tight, unbroken heat, then pulling out to see her blood staining my dick.
Fuck, but my skin burned as if I was being consumed in fire, already in the bowels of hell where I belonged for wanting––needing––to fuck and possess and ruin Bea Lafayette.
Still, I watched, shoving the fantasies out of my head so I could bask in the moment.
Good little Bea undressing for big bad me.
First, she pushed the robe off one shoulder, then the other. She shivered delicately in the draft from the window, and I knew her nipples would be hard little points just begging for my teeth.
Her hair shifted over her shoulder, pale gold curtains of silk parting over her breasts as she looked down her body at the nightgown and then, achingly slow, gathered the hem to leverage the cloth up over her head.
My cock kicked with a pulse of its own, knocking brutally against the entrapment of my jeans, needing to bury itself in that sweet, tight little body.
Christ, she was fucking gorgeous.
All long, slim limbs, a nipped-in waist flaring delicately into rounded hips framing a smooth, flat belly. I knew without knowing that she would have silken peach fuzz beneath that little whorl of a belly button. That the skin on her inner thighs would be so pale I could trace the bluish veins there with my blade and feel them throb under the very tip of my tongue.
I was standing, the umbrella dislodged as I surged up from under it.
The wind slapped me in the face, pelting me with knife points of iced rain.
I didn’t move.
I watched so hard my eyes burned.
Bea brushed her hair away from her chest, revealing the soft, small slopes of her breasts and those hard nipples I ached to feel under my teeth.
A growl was in my throat, rumbling through me.
That monster, that beast, that thing that was not human inside me roared and roared.
Take her, take her, take her.
Ruin, ruin, ruin.
All I could picture was her virgin blood on my skin, my cock messy with her juices. All I could think of was how much dirtier I could make her. I wanted to paint her sweet face in my cum, bite into her pale skin until it bruised like a peach, and slick my sweat-oiled body over hers until she reeked of me, of us.
I gnashed my teeth together, the pain grounding me.
Then she moved again, so sweetly, so hesitant, so goddamn virginal. One small hand moved up from her belly, between her breasts then back down all the way beyond my sight, beneath the window frame to rest only her God––the lucky fucking bastard––knew where.
I pulled out the switchblade in my pocket and dug the end into the center of my palm, hoping it would calm me, call me back to rationality.
Fuck, but the pain only reminded me that hurt could be good, that there was pleasure in it and that my sweet little Bea didn’t know that yet, but I could show her.
I could teach her.
No, not teach, I wasn’t patient enough for that.
I would show her by example, take her there so she could see for herself just how good I could make her feel when I did bad things to her pretty flesh.
Courageous now, knowing she had me like a fish tugging at the line, she reeled me in. One step closer to the glass, her breasts pressed flush to the cold pane, bringing their round shape and darker tips into clearer definition.
I was moving.
My boots struck hard against the wet sand, kicking it up behind me as I stalked across the grains onto the rocks, then onto the beaten path up to Z’s house. It was alarmed and locked, obviously, but I didn’t care.
Bea would have to have been in Fort fucking Knox to keep me from breaking in and taking her.
I paced to the side of the house, studied which route I would take, then swung up onto the porch railing, grabbed the edge of the eaves in both hands and pulled myself onto the steep roof. The tiles were slick under my heavy boots, but I focused on the window I knew lay around the side of the house, the window where Bea stood naked for me, and I made quick work of the walk.
The hard part was falling off the side of the porch roof at the right angle to catch the windowpane in a good grip.
I didn’t think about it, not discernably.
I just fell.
It was calculated, but Bea didn’t know that. The yip of her anxious squeak reached me through the glass just as I caught the jutting edge of the pane in one hand and adjusted to pull myself up with two. I held myself on my palms, arms popping with strain as I stared into the glass at Bea’s startled face.
“Boo,” I said, mouthing it dramatically in case she couldn’t hear me over the clatter of wind.
Her frozen, anxious expression cracked down the middle and gave way to that smile that lit me up from the inside out.
“Open it,” I told her. I was stronger than most, but the buffeting wind and the awkward angle of the ledge made it difficult to maintain my position.
Bea’s pink mouth made a little ‘o’ as she scrambled to unlock and raise the window.
I swung into the room, still semi-hard until I smelled the sweet, fruity scent of Bea in the room, and then I was once again stone.
Before she could get a word out, I was stalking toward her.
She stared at me, eyes wide and dark with lust and fear. Instinctively, feeling stalked and vulnerable, she moved backwards across the room.
I smiled wolfishly at her, aware that I was dripping wet, clothed head to toe in black, and prowling toward her like a predator. I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Not even if Zeus barged in with his brass knuckles and shotgun.
I’d gladly take buckshot in the ass if it meant I could just touch Bea for one fucking glorious second.
Finally, Bea ran out of room, her back hitting the wall beside the door to the hall with a soft thunk. A second later, I was on her, plastered to her naked body from thighs to chest. I collared her throat with my hand to feel her pulse against
my thumb, to feel the fragility of her life in my hands. Her pulse beat a tattoo into my skin, a pattern I would wear inside my chest the way some people wore a religious cross.
This, this, this was why my own heart beat.
“You’re wet,” she panted softly, looking up at me with those big, silvered blue eyes fringed in thick gold lashes.
“You are too,” I noted, no inflection just fact. “I’ve made you wet for me, Little Shadow. You love to mimic everything I do, is this no different?”
She gasped as my other hand scraped along her right side, short nails pebbling the flesh in their wake, until I reached her hip. I watched her eyes dilate as I paused, then jerked them harder, searing pain into her skin, across the seam where her leg met her groin straight to the top of her pussy, soft with downy curls.
My fingers played there as I spoke against her parted lips. “Should I check to see if I’m right?”
She trembled against me, so warm and vivid against my cold, dark body. I had her trapped and ferocious animal triumph urged me to fuck her as the spoils.
I didn’t. I wouldn’t.
I was above base impulses, smarter than my body’s urges.
Almost.
My middle finger dipped down just slightly over the sweet swollen mound of her clit into the tight slit beneath it and then pulled back. It came away wet with her juice.
I grinned, the expression a knife’s slash across my mouth as I pulled my hand away to bring the evidence between us.
“Wet for me,” I said as my cock throbbed and throbbed, and still I didn’t grind it against her.
“I’m, um,” Bea gasped, flustered and flushed pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I clipped, scowling. “I want you wet. I want you dripping down your thighs for me. This?” I held up the honey-dipped finger to my mouth and slowly ran my tongue up my skin, sucking over her juices with a humming groan of approval. “Fucking divine.”
She squirmed, thighs trying to rub together. I slotted my leg between them so she was forced up against my jean-clad thigh, damp cunt to the rough fabric. I ground against her until she whimpered then I took her panting mouth, devouring it the way I wanted to devour her sweet pussy.
“I’m gonna take you,” I growled against her mouth. “Last chance to stop this.”
“No,” Bea groaned against me, moving by her own volition against my leg, gyrating her little hips in a desperate bid for more leverage. “I want this. You. Please, I’ve wanted you since I knew what want was.”
Fuck, but the power of those words scored through me. The worship in them, the reverence. All those holy words I’d banished from my vocabulary came surging back with the taste of Bea’s cunt like holy water on my tongue.
“We do this, you’re mine,” I swore to her in a rough voice torn from my gut. The words pained me as they erupted, but I wanted the pain because with Bea, I knew it would only bring pleasure.
“Yours,” she swore, head tipped back so I could bite my way down her neck. “I already was.”
“No,” I disagreed as my mouth finally found a peaked nipple and my teeth gave in to the ache to bite down on it. She moaned loudly, head hitting the wall with a dull thud as she arched into my mouth. “If I make you mine, you stay mine until death comes for us. You’re mine in the night and the shadows where I’m fucking king. You’re mine in the light with your family and friends, standing beside Death as his queen. If I’m a killer, you’re a killer. Where I end, you fucking begin.”
“Yin and yang,” she rasped as I switched to the other breast, biting and sucking hard around the pale swell until it bloomed pink as an unfurled rose. “Persephone and Hades,” she said, voice dropping into low, velvet intimacy as she clutched my hair so I looked up at her through her breasts. “Bea and Priest.”
“I’ll ruin you,” I promised baldly, excitement in my balls, in my chest, a percussion beat like ceremonial drums.
“So ruin me,” she agreed. “Pull my hair, bite my neck, leave me bruised and ruined by your love until every inch of my body is singing of you.”
I pulled back to arch an eyebrow at her, impressed by her dirty audacity. Her blush spilled like wine from her cheeks to her chest, but she maintained eye contact despite her embarrassment.
“Okay,” I drawled. “My shadow wants to be ruined, I’ll ruin you.”
She sucked in a little breath when I pulled my switchblade out and flicked it open, but she held still, breath stuck in her lungs, as I dragged it from her neck down her breastbone and quivering belly to the apex of her thighs. I dropped to my knees, my nose level with her pussy so I could lean forward and drag it through the top of her curls.
“Smell like heaven,” I grunted as I dragged that sweet musk into my lungs and let it make me light-headed with raging lust. I dragged the blade lightly down the edge of her bush to that delicate skin on the inside of her thigh and groin. “One day, gonna shave you here so you’re stripped and so sensitive. Every breath, every pass of my steel and my cock will make you shudder and beg for more.”
She shuddered then, almost violently as I pressed the knife a little harder into the soft swell of her inner thigh, hard enough to draw a thin, red line. I followed it with my tongue to soothe the ache, then did the same on the other side.
She tasted like a peach, the soft fuzz, the sweet sticky juice running out to leak down her thighs right onto my waiting tongue. The explosion of flavour made me growl.
“You like the pain, don’t you?” I asked as I carved a small line into the skin above her curls, blood beading lightly like jewels over the wound. She panted so loudly it echoed over the driving rain hitting the side of the house, the patter of it falling through the still open window onto the wood floors. “You like the idea of being a bad girl for me.”
“Oh God,” she stuttered as I finished carving my name into her skin. She was barely bleeding, the wound wasn’t deep, but I soothed it with my tongue, loving the tang of her blood, needing more of it in my mouth.
Wanting it on my cock as I took her for the first time.
“You got the devil between your thighs, Bea,” I informed her as I pinned her groin to the wall with my splayed hand, the knife pressed between us, and opened her silken folds with the other. “You worship anyone, it’s gonna be me.”
I dipped my head to run my tongue up the center of her cunt and groaned into her sweet, honeyed flesh. I ate her like a glutton, sucking hard at her clit again and again until it swelled and throbbed angrily beneath my tongue, lapping up the juice that flowed peach-sweet and sticky from her center.
Her hands went to my hair, stroking it back from my face, curling over my ears. It distracted me, wounded me in a way I wasn’t ready for and didn’t like at all. I ripped my mouth from her succulent cunt and glared up at her.
“No touching,” I ordered.
It was too much, nails on a chalkboard.
“What?” she panted, her lower lip swollen and dark as a plum, bruised by the way she bit it to keep quiet.
“No. Touching.”
She blinked. “Priest.”
“No,” I ordered again before diving back into her pussy, rabid for the taste and feel of her moving against my tongue.
Any man with a god-complex only had to put his mouth between a woman’s thighs to feel like a motherfucking king.
Then her hands, again, tucked into my hair, stroking my bearded cheek.
I reared back, the knife clattering to the floor as I spun her and thrust her hard against the wall. She shivered but let me do as I pleased. My cock wept salty tears in my jeans, begging for release. Instead, I undid the pink silk ribbon tied in its bow at her wrist and wrapped it thoroughly between her two wrists after I crossed them. Once secured in an elaborately knotted bow, I considered flipping her back around, then caught sight of her arse.
Fuck. Me.
A true peach, round and perky, swelling from the twin dimples at her low back into perfect, bouncy relief. I groaned, adjusting my co
ck as I swiped a rough hand over the audacious fucking swell.
“You obey me,” I told her darkly, leaning in to nip her earlobe as I continued to massage her ass with both hands. “When you’re naked for me, your body is mine, and I’ll do with it what I want.”
“Yes,” she whimpered, so needy that she bucked back into my hands even though I was sure no one had ever touched her like this. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”
“Dangerous,” I whispered before I bit into her neck to hold her still while I dipped my hand between the curves of her arse to slide a finger inside her tight pussy. “What if I wanted to keep you here pinned to the wall, hands bound while I wedged my thick cock into your pussy? What if I wanted to fuck you hard and fast even knowing you’ve never taken a cock before?”
We both moaned as she flooded with wet, leaking all over my hand. My good girl, dirty Little Shadow loved my filthy fucking mouth.
I’d teach her to love every filthy thing I could think of.
“Do it,” she begged prettily. “Please, I want it. I…I want you to be rough with me.”
I could feel the chains break, the beast rattling free and roaring with triumph.
And I was lost.
Lost to sense and reason.
Lost to anything but the feel of Bea’s nakedness against me as I unbuckled, unzipped, and slapped my freed cock against the crease in her arse, once, twice, so she could feel the thick, heavy weight of me.
“Gonna impale you on this dick,” I promised her as I drove two fingers into her heat and watched her buck and writhe against them. “Can’t wait to see your blood on my cock.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed, pressing her cheek to the wall, spreading her legs farther apart. “I think I could orgasm just like this.”
“Just my voice in your ear and my teeth on your skin,” I coaxed as I pulled my fingers from her heat and wrapped them around my steely shaft. “Think about how hard you’ll come when I stretch you open on my cock.”
She continued to murmur to God as I slid the hot head of my dick through her slippery folds a few times before notching the head at her entrance.
Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men, #6) Page 14