“Yes.”
“And who does this pussy belong to, Lacey? Is it your pussy or is it mine?”
“It’s yours.” I breathe.
“Then say it. I want to hear you say it.”
I lick my lower lip and his eyes flick down to track the movement, narrowing and darkening with barely contained lust. “My pussy belongs to you.”
He slips the tip of his finger inside my melting core but does not go any deeper. “That’s right, my wet pussy. I’m going to be kind and let you taste it.” Bringing his hand up to my face, I see my own slickness glistening on his fingers. “Open your mouth,” he says, thickly, sliding his thick middle finger between my parted lips. “Taste yourself.”
I hold his shuttered gaze and close my lips around his finger, using the flat of my tongue to taste the juice of my essence. His jaw is clenched tight, his breaths come sharp and fast as he watches me closely. “Tell me what you taste like, Lacey,” he demands, his voice a dark rumble.
“I taste like I want you to fuck me,” I hear myself utter with boldness, a confidence that springs from that dark place inside me. I gasp when he grabs my face, his hand cupping my jaw.
“You want to ride my cock?” His warm, lust-filled breath fans over my lips and I whimper, the need in my core growing stronger.
I bite my lower lip and reply with a breathy, “Yes.”
His mouth twists. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it quite yet. But you will.” Taking a step back, he tugs on the leash and I steadily follow him upstairs. He leads me to the bathroom where the air is wet and warm like he just took a shower, in the residual mist that settles on my skin, the heady scent of something spicy with a woodsy undertone goes directly to my head. Curiosity has me frowning slightly when I see the solitary chair facing the bathtub, but I don’t have to wait too long to see why it’s there. He releases the leash, takes a seat on that solitary chair and then instructs me to do the same on the edge of the concrete bathtub. My eyes shift down to the three items next to me. A tiny mahogany-colored brush sits inside a small oval-shaped silver bowl filled with what I can only assume to be shaving cream, the rich white foam I discover is the source of the intoxicating smell. There is also a navy blue hand towel neatly folded that is set beside the bowl. But it’s the straight razor, partially opened in a sideways V that has my heart stuttering as I lower myself down. I don’t realize just how fixated I am on those items until his voice draws my attention back to him.
He tucks a hand beneath the chair and drags it closer to him. “Spread your legs open.” My body is quick to comply, my thighs falling open for his viewing pleasure. “I’m going to shave your pubic hair. You will remain absolutely still while I do this.”
“Yes,” I whisper, “I won’t move.”
He reaches for the rounded handle of the brush, ensures that he has a good amount of shaving cream on the bristles before bringing it to the thatch of dark curls between my legs. He slathers the shaving cream in an upward motion until every last bit of my pubic hair is covered in white foam. When he grabs the razor and brings it between my legs, I jump, my body coiled so tightly that it takes his strong, firm hand on my upper thigh to release some of the tension. “This is not a punishment. I won’t hurt you.” The deep and quiet tone of his voice washes over me, taking the rest of my anxiety away. Everything moves into a trance after that, as I watch him work. He’s beautifully skilled, handles the razor like it’s an extension of his hand as he falls into a hypnotic rhythm of smoothly scraping the hair from my sensitive skin and then wiping it clean on the cloth. He works fast, but methodically, careful not to cut me.
I don’t let my mind wander too far into how he’s gained this particular skill but rather focus on what he’s doing. There is an odd intimacy in all this, and he takes it onto another level when he tells me to turn around, bend over, and grip the edge of the tub. I thought shame had abandoned me completely when he inserted the beads inside my ass, but slivers of embarrassment return now, covering my face and skin in red as he parts one ass cheek and then the other, running the blade on both sides. When he’s finished and I come back to my full height, I’m instantly aware of everything between my legs more than I ever imagined I would be. The sensual silkiness of my bare skin is such an incredibly arousing sensation that a moan springs from my lips. “This is only the beginning,” he utters cryptically against my shoulder before reaching around to take my leash. He stands at a distance and watches me while I shower, instructing me on the places he wants me to lather the most.
He doesn’t allow me to do anything else except wash myself. In the bedroom, he envelopes me in a large, black towel and dries me off like I’m his own personal doll. This dependency is wrong, and though my mind screams at me to rebel, to cut free the invisible strings of his puppetry, my body’s hunger is so much stronger. It plays the marionette so well, sinks into the role like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He takes my leash and leads me back downstairs, I don’t know what he has in store but anticipation settles thickly in my lower abdomen. “I’m going to eat my dinner now,” he quietly announces once we come to a stop at his dining table. My mouth falls open to a gasp as he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up onto the table. He grabs my breasts in both of his hands, brings them together and alternates licking and sucking on my hard nipples. The persistence of his mouth rips moans from me as I arch my back and push my chest up to receive more of him. Hot, slow melting liquid pools at my core and instantly dampens the table beneath. “I have an appetite for pussy, Lacey,” he growls, releasing my breasts and leaving me desperately wanting more. “You’re going to feed it to me.” Drawing the chair at the head of the table and bringing it closer to me, he puts a gentle hand on my abdomen. “Lie back and spread your legs.”
Leaning back slowly, I allow my quivering legs to fall apart. But the width between them doesn’t seem to please him at all as he grabs both my thighs and pushes them farther apart. Blood rushes between my ears while my heart batters erratically in my chest. Anticipation drives me to the brink as I wait and wait for him to do something. And then, he’s there. He doesn’t touch me, but the sheer heat of his breath makes me pulsate. He smells me, takes a deep intake of breath of my core like I’m something to be savored before he exhales against my dripping sex. That small act alone is electrifying enough but when he does finally put his mouth on me, I lose all sense of reality. The broad, slow strokes of his tongue as he laps the juices between my lips draws a guttural moan from the depths of my soul. He licks and sucks, parting my flesh with deft fingers to taste me better.
My gasps for breath turns into a scream when he clamps his teeth down on my clit, lacing me with pleasure and pain and yanking me deeper into the inferno of my undoing. He suckles that cluster of pulsating nerves, flicks his tongue across it, and I buck my hips against his face, arching my back off the table and praying desperately for this to never end. He inserts a finger inside my yielding flesh and then another, scissoring and hooking them against that spot that makes me see stars. The maelstrom of sensations swimming through my being stokes the unimaginable pressure building inside me. And just when I think I can’t take anymore, just when my body is about to shatter, he pushes on my thighs, bringing my legs closer to my body, practically folding me in half and then he latches his beautifully wicked mouth on my puckered hole. It’s an unstoppable force that shreds through me when he fucks my pussy with his fingers and then inserts his tongue between the tight rings of my ass. I die and die and die again, sweet, merciless little deaths that plunge me into oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Knox
I scoop her up from the table, cradling her petite, fatigued body to my chest and make my way to my bedroom. I set her down on my bed with as much care as I can manage, but I have an inkling she won’t wake up anytime soon. I can’t say I’m not pleased that I made her faint. The meal, however, had been far too delectable for me to stop. Drawing the blanket over her, I linger for a solitary moment, my
fingers catching her curls and brushing them back from her beautiful face. Realizing what I’m doing, I curl my fingers into a fist and instantly draw my hand back. I don’t have time for this. There are more pressing matters I need to get to. Retrieving my weapon from the compartment behind the mirror, I slide the pistol with its extended silencer behind my back and dress quickly, sliding into my favorite leather jacket. I grab my laptop from the top shelf of my closet and carry it with me downstairs. Setting it down on the dining table, I enter my password and open the program I need. It doesn’t take me long to hack into my latest targets’ home to disable their security system, while leaving an undisturbed loop for the security company to still monitor. Shutting the laptop down, I go through a quick mental checklist to ensure that I’ve missed nothing before heading out of my loft.
It bothers me that I haven’t had the time to gather the necessary details about my latest assignment. But that has more to do with Yuri putting a time stamp on the job than my lack of preparation. I typically have a more flexible time frame when it comes to my victims but this assignment needs to be done tonight. I wasn’t given the reason why. In all honesty, I expected a disposal service, something that would help temper my appetite for carnage and release the valve to the overwhelming pressure in my bones. But this job is meant to be clean. A simple hit. Sliding inside my car, I turn on the ignition and drive down the quiet street. What’s the adage…beggars can’t be choosers? This job doesn’t require my butchering skills but at the very least, it’s still a kill.
It takes me an hour to drive to the targets’ home. They should both be home and sound asleep. Their home is secluded, shrouded by tall trees, the neighboring houses about a mile away on both sides. My headlights are off as I slowly make my way up the back driveway. The motion detector light pops on as I insert the small blade of my pocketknife inside the keyhole. I give a few twists before the sound of the click informs me I have access into the home. The light from the outside provides me a path from the kitchen to the dining room before shutting off, but I have already memorized the layout of the house from the security blueprint. I expect everyone to be asleep upstairs, but I find one of my targets in the living room. The flickering light from the muted television casting shadows on his slumbering face. I assume his roaring snores are the reason why he’s been banished to sleep downstairs. It doesn’t matter. Pulling the gun from the waistband of my jeans, I aim for his heart, three silent shots and he’s dead. I amble up the stairs, searching for the next target. Second room on the left is the master bedroom, my mouth curls up at the irony, her snores are no quieter than her husband’s, in fact, her snores were by far much louder. Approaching the king-sized bed, I raise the gun, the need to see blood splatter has me aiming for her head.
“Mommy…”
I still. Turning my head to the right, I’m startled to find a child standing at the bedroom’s entryway. Everything comes to a startling halt as I look at him, he can’t be more than three or four but his sudden presence alarms me like nothing before.
“Mommy…” he calls again, stepping further inside the room and a terrifying chill seizes me when he looks at me. Cold sweat forms against my skin as my vision blurs, I shake my head to clear the sudden wave of vertigo but I can no more help that than the way my heart suddenly accelerates in my chest when I hear my mother’s voice.
“Please…please don’t…anything but him…take me. I know why you’re here. Please spare him and shoot me instead…”
Blinding flashes explode behind my eyes, bringing with it a skull-battering pressure as the room around me goes out of focus.
I see a blurry image of a woman. And then a child. A smaller version of myself. It’s me. The fear in my eyes is unrecognizable. There are echoes of the melody. The melody I know so well. My mother’s beautiful smile suddenly shattered by screams, her face distorted in pain. The screams are so loud they drown out the melody. Everything drowns out her sweet lullaby, the tranquility and the safety of it ruined. There are men. So many evil men. And guns, so many guns. They’re on her like a pack of rabid dogs on meat. Her screams come from beneath them and it seems to go on forever and ever, resonating in my young mind. And then there is silence. A definitive silence that stretches even longer than the screams. And with the eerie quietness comes a stream of blood, hot, sticky, and saturated with gore. My younger self sits in that pool of carnage, rocking steadily back and forth, humming the melody.
“Please…” the target begs.
I shake my head, attempting to rid myself of the memory. I blink rapidly, trying to regain the control I’ve lost. I clench my teeth, steel my nerves, and point the gun at her. But my aim isn’t steady, my hand shakes so violently in fact that I have no choice but to lower it back down.
“Use the papers your husband forged for you, take nothing else but your son and whatever cash you have laying around and leave. You know better than to call the police. You’re a wanted criminal and they will put you away for a very long time. But that’s nothing compared to what I will do to you if I find you again.” I spare their lives and leave her and her child with that warning before I run out of their home, utterly shaken to my core.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lacey
My eyes flutter open and I stare blearily into the near darkness, wondering for a second what woke me up. Awareness comes in a surge and I know instantly that he’s in the room with me. My body, so painstakingly attuned to him has me sitting up in his bed. And it’s only the barest modicum of modesty that has me pulling the sheet up to cover my nudity. He stands at a short distance from the bed, a dark, giant shape in the shadows of the room, watching me, always watching me. The silence roars and my nerves pulsate beneath my skin anxiously. He looks cold, detached, his expression utterly bleak. There’s barely controlled tension in his powerful body, muscles wound so tightly that it seems he might strike at any given moment. What’s happened to him? Trembling, I watch helplessly as he stalks forward, his elongated strides bringing him to the edge of the bed in a flash. I’m not sure why I tighten my grip on the sheet and pull it up to my chin like that will protect me from him, but a part of me knows something is gravely wrong in that moment.
Pure uncontained malice morphs his expression, bleeding menace into his consuming blue-gray eyes at the sight of me covering myself from him and before I have the chance to rectify my mistake, he leans over to yank the sheet away from my body. I know it’s too late to stop the punishment that’s about to occur but instinct doesn’t stop me from trying. I climb on all fours on the bed and aim to jump off on the other side, but his unyielding grasp of my ankle effectively destroys my efforts. I yelp as he gives one vicious tug, dragging me back to the edge of the bed. He flips me over without effort, the potency of his fury slowly covering my flesh like tar, the noxious fumes thickening the air around me so that breathing becomes a task. Overpowering me all at once, the unimaginable force of his powerful strength effectively halts my struggles as he climbs on top of me, forcing himself between my upraised legs. He wrenches my arms above my head, pinning my wrists to the bed in a bruising grip.
My eyes move wildly across his face, needing to find a hint of humanity in the ferocious storm raging in the depths of his eyes, but all I find is a beautifully handsome face mutilated by cruelty.
Panic weighs heavily in my bones, but it’s uncertainty that makes me call for him, “Knox…”
“Shut up.”
My mind spirals trying desperately to figure out what I could have possibly done to incur his wrath. How did it go from him worshiping every bit of flesh between my thighs to this brutalizing hostility? Did something happen while I was sleeping?
Cold, nauseating fear suffocates me when I catch sight of the gun he pulls from behind him. “Should I show you how deep your gluttony for punishment goes, Lacey?” he asks softly, his tone chilling the blood in my veins. I shake violently beneath him, watch powerlessly as he moves it down my body. My eyes widen, a scream rips from my throat when he
drives the barrel of the gun deep inside me. Compensating for the pain, my core convulses, my juices flowing, melting slowly around the cold, unforgiving barrel of the gun. “Sweet, wet pussy, always craving for something…” He leans over me, and the heat of his ragged breath sears my ear. The scorn in his tone produces a dark flush across my skin at the truth of his words. “I’m going to fuck you with my gun and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”
I turn my head to the side but I can’t escape the grip of his fist as he takes hold of my hair, I breathe hard and fast as my tears fall, revulsion twisting angrily in my stomach but it’s no match for the vacuuming hunger in the pit of my soul his depravity satiates so thoroughly. He moves the gun in and out of me, each thrust eased by my slickness, pulsating with eagerness every time he plunges a little deeper. “There’s a bullet in the barrel. Should I pull the trigger?” Faced suddenly with the inescapable choke hold of reality, fear for my life racks my body with sobs. He isn’t sane. Not even a little bit. Everything he’s done to me up to this point proves that. So what’s to stop him from killing me now?
One after the other, the orgasms come hard and explosively fast, pulled from the part of me that hasn’t completely spiraled into insanity. I don’t want this. I don’t want his touch. I hate him but I hate myself more. I hate my body’s unrepentant yearning for the danger he puts me through. I can’t fight him. Ravaged by the tempest of his madness and pinned like a butterfly beneath the force of his masculine strength, I do nothing but weep in to the sheet beneath my head, my face turned to the side as I bite down so hard on my lower lip that blood coats my tongue.
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