by H. R. Owen
“Who’s there? Bates? Is that you?”
Nothing.
Edging down the stairs, a petite frame comes into view. “Dahlia? What are you doing here?”
“I-I’m sorry, I have to do this,” she stammers.
“What are you talk—”
Bang.
The sound of a single gunshot rings out, and my body falls against the rotting stairs.
Bang.
“Shit,” I yell out as I’m woken from my dreams to the sound of a loud clanging noise.
Rattle. Clank. Crash.
Dahlia.
Stalking to the bedroom, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed from the memories of that house in my dreams and my search for Bates. When I walk through the door, Dahlia’s thrashing her cuffs against the bars making all sorts of grunting noises.
A smirk forms on my lips. “Good sleep, darlin’?”
“Wonderful actually.” Her voice is soft and innocent. “Callen?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
“I’m ravenous. Do you have anything to eat? Maybe some water, too?”
Leaving the room without a word, I head downstairs to the kitchen and snatch a loaf of bread and some cheese from the fridge, making two sandwiches, one for Dahlia and one for myself. Opening the fridge, I fetch two bottles of water and then head back to the bedroom.
“Thank God, I thought you were just going to leave me here to starve to death,” she berates.
“I am an asshole, and I was quite tempted to leave you here after last night, but we both need to eat.”
Uncuffing one of her wrists from the bed and sitting beside her, I put the sandwich down on the bed next to her and open her bottle of water. Dahlia skulls the water then moves on to her sandwich, swallowing it in four big bites.
“Holy shit, woman, how does a tiny thing like yourself eat so fast?” My jaw drops as I stare at her.
“I have a big appetite after I get shot and kidnapped.”
“Okay, so I’m sorry about last night. I really don’t know how to behave around people. Let’s work on getting to know you a bit. I need to know I can trust you if you ever want me to let you go.”
She has another sip of water. “Okay, right. But I need to go to the bathroom to freshen up, and if you want to trust me, I need to trust you. So, let’s start by letting me go to the bathroom without you cuffing yourself to me, and we’ll go from there. You can still see me, but I would prefer if you looked away for a minute and give me some privacy.”
“If you try and run this time, you’ll be chained to that bed for the rest of your life,” I spit out, hesitantly freeing her wrist from the rail. She rubs her wrist and slowly gets off the bed holding her shoulder with a pained look on her face.
Dahlia heads into the bathroom with her sexy ass peeking out from under the shirt I gave her. I’ve given her the privacy she asked for until I hear the toilet flush and the tap turn on. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?” she asks. “I can’t stand not having a clean mouth.”
I sweep over to the vanity and pull out an unopened packet and hand it to her.
“Thanks.” She nods.
The sheets on the bed are tangled from all the kicking around she did last night and this morning, so I make the bed and wait for her come to sit next to me.
“So… what do you do, Dahlia?” I demand.
“I’m a dancer. I teach ballet classes at the studio downtown. When I moved here, I fell in love with the place and spent every cent I had fixing it up.”
“And where did you move from, darlin’?”
“That’s for another time,” she answers. “What about you? Are you from around here?”
“Born and raised.” My answer short and sweet. Well, kind of raised.
There’s a pounding at my door, and I realize it must be Hunter, my tattoo guy. Lifting from the bed, I yell for him to come in, not taking my eyes off Dahlia. She pulls the shirt she’s wearing down as far as she can, trying to hide as much skin as possible.
“It’s just my tattoo guy. He’s cool,” I clarify. “Come on up, Hunter. You can work in here,” I yell.
Hunter walks around the corner, and his eyes fall straight to Dahlia sitting on the bed. “What do we have here? How’d you get this piece of fine ass to come home with you?”
“Just lucky I guess.” I immediately want to rip his eyes out of his sockets for looking at her that way, but he’s a fucking brilliant artist, and we’ve been friends for a long time.
“Let’s get started,” Hunter states, lifting his equipment out of his bag and setting it up on the bedside table. “Where’s it going? You’re running out of room.”
“Here,” I say, laying back on the bed and pointing to a small unmarked patch on my ribs.
I’ve been marked with each life I take. It’s become my ritual. Hunter was my first client. I helped his motorcycle club bring down a club-whore after she shot one their prospects. Silly fuck doped her up on blow, and she flipped out while he was fucking her. She grabbed his gun and shot him straight in the eye. The club’s against killing women, so I offered to take care of it for them. Ever since that day, Hunter has been at my doorstep the very next day after a job to add a new piece to my collection.
Listening to the buzz of the tattoo gun, I finally go to my happy place, the sharp scratching a welcome relief. Pain is my friend.
DALHIA
Callen’s been getting tattooed for the last two hours and Hunter’s been glancing up with every break, throwing me strange looks. He’s making me feel uncomfortable, and I have a feeling Callen can sense it.
“All done, Cal,” Hunter states as he tapes a plastic sheet over Callen’s new tattoo.
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch soon,” Callen dismisses.
The large inked man leaves the room, and I jump at the sound of the door slamming behind him.
“What was that all about?” I ask Callen.
“Asshole was trying to claim something that’s not his.”
“Oh… hey, I’m not yours either,” I snap.
“You sure as shit are. And when you finally beg me to fuck that sweet pussy of yours, there’s no going back. Do you drink scotch?” he queries.
Callen doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he takes my hand in his and pulls me down the stairs with him. Warmth emanates through my hand as his fingers entwine with mine, leaving the moisture to build between my legs again. As I look around, I notice everything is so plain. The walls are unmarred by pictures and are weirdly white. The place looks clinical, even sterile.
“Do you have any family close by?” I question, wondering about the impersonal space.
“No,” he states in a bitter tone. He doesn’t say another word.
We enter the kitchen, and he fetches a bottle of scotch and two glasses, filling them both with three fingers. It’s way too early to drink, but what the hell, I’m being held hostage, so what better way to kill time. Lifting my glass from the counter, I throw back the amber liquid in one big gulp, coughing a little as the harsh liquid tickles on my throat. Callen follows suit, and we keep going in silence until the bottle is empty. Finally, our eyes meet, and heat builds in my core.
“Please?” I beg. “Please fuck me now?”
Callen’s whole body shakes as he slowly makes his way over to me and lifts me on to the counter. Placing his hard body between my legs and pulling down his pants, he lifts my shirt up and rubs his massive erection over my pussy. I moan at the sensation and writhe against him.
“Ask me again,” Callen grunts.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“Good enough.” He grabs both sides of my face, smashing his lips to mine. His kiss is hard, passionate and demanding. Our tongues find each other, and they dance around, sucking and licking. Callen’s hands make their way up my shirt and start massaging my breasts until he finds my nipples, hard and wanting. He pulls on them, gently at first, then squeezes the tight buds between his thumb and finger until my breasts stick out asking for more. Reaching down
, I grip Callen’s cock in my hand and start rubbing. He lets out a wild groan and then pulls back, freeing his cock from my grip, and I gasp at the loss of contact. Our eyes lock once again, and in one swift move, my shirt’s off and lying on the floor.
“Fuck, darlin’… you’re fucking perfect.” Callen’s mouth envelops one of my nipples, lightly sucking and licking. He bites down, tugging, and a sharp, exciting pain runs through me. Callen doesn’t even bother to take his pants off from around his ankles, he just pulls me in close.
His lips find my neck trailing small kisses over my skin, then he starts to lick a trail down to my breasts and begins licking little circles around my nipples. His head starts to move lower, and he runs his tongue along my stomach.
Spreading my legs apart in one rough movement, Callen growls at the sight of my pussy and slowly kisses trails between my thighs, working his way toward my entrance. One full lick, and I can already feel my orgasm blaring to life.
Grabbing a fist full of hair, I urge him on by pulling his face in closer inviting him in for another taste. His calloused fingers come up to massage my clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive button, then one finger slides deep inside me making scream with pleasure.
Callen’s finger pumps inside me, and I find myself riding his hand while his tongue runs over my clit. Licking. Sucking. Biting. Another finger finds my entrance and pushes up hitting that sweet spot. It’s so intense, I feel a small tear roll down my cheek. Riding his fingers and mouth, my orgasm comes crashing down, convulsing around him and making me see stars.
“Callen,” I scream as he pushes his fingers into me one last time.
Slowly removing his fingers, his tongue shifts down to find my entrance, moving up in one long, tight stroke, lapping up my orgasm. “Sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” he drawls, placing his two fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.
My face feels heated, and tears start to well in my eyes from the intense amount of pleasure Callen’s inflicted on me. Actually, he’s the first man ever to give me that pleasure. Without a word, he stands up, looking to where the tears roll down my cheeks and his tongue darts out, softly licking the trails up to my eyes.
“Every part of you tastes so fucking amazing, Dahlia,” he declares.
My tongue darts out and runs along his bottom lip, and he lightly pulls it between his teeth. My pussy starts grinding against his erection, and I’m ready for more, willing to take him inside me.
“I want you. I want you so bad… please?” I beg.
Callen steps back raking his eyes over my needy body, and he fists his cock in his hand, rubbing it against my opening.
“Please... oh God, please. Fuck me... now!” I shout.
With one quick push, he’s buried inside me, pushing to the hilt.
“Aaahhh… you’re so fucking tight. You’re strangling my cock,” he says in a strained voice. With that, he pulls out and pushes back in with so much force that my ass lifts off the counter.
“Yes… oh God… don’t stop,” I scream. He’s so big and it hurts, but for some reason I want him to go harder.
Strong hands find my neck, wrapping around it with a dominant force, and I can feel myself growing wetter. Callen’s movements become frantic, grunting with each thrust.
“Come for me, darlin’,” he growls between his teeth. Green eyes meet mine, and with one more thrust, I feel myself coming undone.
“Callen…” I scream. “Oh God… I’m coming… oh my God.”
My pussy clamps down hard on his pounding cock, and I ride out my orgasm. Callen’s hands tighten around my throat as he pumps hard and fast until I feel a stream of warmth shoot inside of me. Callen’s body shakes with his orgasm, pumping a hard, deep thrust with each convulsion.
“Fuck!” he yells, pulling out of me. His mouth turns into a hard line, and he storms off up the stairs without another word.
What the fuck just happened?
CALLEN
How can she be so innocent, and yet she let me do those things to her?
No… beg me to do those things to her.
I fucked her… hard, strangled her, then just left her there panting.
She needs to leave, I can’t risk dragging her into the life I’ve chosen for myself.
“Callen,” she yells, storming into the room.
“You can leave,” I tell her.
“Like fuck, I will… you just gave me the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and now you’re throwing me out?” It comes out more like a statement than a question.
I reply, looking into her demanding blue eyes, “Look, I’m a shitty person, and my life is far too savage for a precious little thing like you. My job… it’s damn dangerous, and I can’t have any distractions.”
“I know exactly how dangerous your job is. I’m not as innocent as you think I am,” Dahlia berates. “I’m not stupid. You were out hiding in bushes in the middle of the night with a loaded gun and a bag full of God only knows what else. I don’t think any less of you. I know what I’m getting myself into when I begged you to fuck me…” She pauses then continues. “Look you’re a hit man, I know you are. I know your kind… and I don’t fucking care. I want you.”
“I’m not a hit man,” I state. “I’m just a man who gets a thrill out of taking a person’s life. The only difference is I get paid for doing it. My mind is dark, Dahlia, really dark. These tattoos covering my whole body, I’ve gotten one for every kill. I love it. I take pride in it. Can you handle that?” I ask, thinking she’ll run out the door any minute knowing how many people I’ve killed.
Her arms come up around my neck, and she looks right into my eyes. I feel the weight of her body as she jumps off the floor and wraps her legs around my waist. I brace my hands on her hips, and she grinds down on me, making my dick spring up, ready to fuck her all over again. Her lips drop to mine, making a small moan when my tongue dips inside. Our kiss lasts forever, but it will never be long enough.
Slowly, she pulls back and looks deep into my eyes again. “Yes, Callen. I can handle that,” she whispers biting her lip.
A deep groan builds in my throat as I throw her tiny body back on the bed. “On your knees!” I demand.
Dahlia gets straight on her knees and grabs hold of my cock in her hand, licking the pre-come from the tip, making me jerk forward at the sensation.
“Take it… take it all, darlin’.”
Her perfect lips wrap around my shaft, and I start moving my hips, fucking her mouth. Her mouth is wet and tight as my cock slides in and out just like her pussy.
“I’m going to come, darlin’… I want to claim those perfect tits of yours.”
Pulling her face back, freeing my cock from her mouth, I pump it over her tits until my hot release shoots out and sprays all over her chest. I rub the end of my cock on her tits, spreading my cum over her perky little nipples.
Her mouth is fucking magic, but I want more. I will always want more when it comes to Dahlia.
After a long night of amazing sex with the most perfect woman lying in bed naked, her head laying on my hard chest, I begin to wonder why it doesn’t bother her that I’m a cold-blooded killer.
“Dahlia?” I whisper. “How are you not scared of me? What’s your story?”
“No story… just tired.” She yawns.
Her breath becomes heavy, her chest rising and falling. She’s asleep. Out cold. My mind drifts, and within minutes I follow suit, falling into a deep slumber.
Light shines through the window blinding me with its rays, and then I hear small sobs come from the body lying beside me.
“Dahlia… Dahlia… wake up.” I shake her until her eyes meet mine. It takes her a few minutes to wake up and realize where she is.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah, just a dream. What did I say?’ She bites her lip uncomfortably.
“Nothing. But I think you were crying.”
“Oh, good.” Her voice sounds relieved.
What the fuck! Ho
w is crying good?
“Listen darlin’, I have a job to do today. So why don’t I drive you home?”
“Um… okay… but can I see you again?” she asks.
“Darlin’… you’re mine now. Last night, I claimed you. Think yourself lucky ‘cause you’re the first. If you ever try to leave me, I will hunt you down and make you beg for me all over again, and next time, I won’t be nowhere near as nice,” I state with a smirk on my face.
After getting dressed, we head out to the car, and it starts with the loud roar that I’ll never get sick of hearing. I’m taking Dahlia to her apartment so I can get a few things out of the way today. Bates life was taken away from him, and for two years I’ve been attempting to track down the asshole who offed him. I’ve had a few leads over the last couple of years, but none of them ever held up. Today, I’m meeting with a guy who says he has information on the whereabouts of Bates’ murderer. Hunter told me he’s a reliable source and to take everything he can give me seriously.
“So… big job today?” Dahlia asks smiling, knocking me away from my thoughts.
“Something like that.” I laugh at the whole idea of having a casual conversation about my kills with a beautiful woman. There’s definitely something she’s hiding, and I will find out what it is, but first I need to know who killed my friend.
Dahlia’s apartment is on the dodgy side of town in a rundown old building that has cracks running up the walls and holes in the windows. A young, homeless man is covered in a blanket drinking some kind of brown liquid out of an old bottle. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her here by herself, but I have a meeting I can’t be late for.
“Bye, Callen,” she says as she hops out of the car.
“Please be careful,” I state, pulling on her hand and eyeing the waste of space sitting in front of the building.
“Oh… don’t worry about John. He’s here every day. I don’t think that man could hurt a fly.”
I don’t trust him.
“I’ll be back at some point tonight. Pack some shit and be ready for me to pick you up.” Before she can change her mind about me, I pull my car out, spinning the tires and kicking up smoke.