I Know What Love Is

by Bianca, Whitney

  “Everything I do, I do for you, Joanie,” Elliot whispers in my ear. Then he turns and advances on Mr. Backseat. The realization of his predicament dawns on the creepy asshole and he starts crawling away, dragging his bum leg through the brush.

  “I'm your friend, man. You gonna choose crazy pussy over me?” Mr. Backseat throws over his shoulder, even though he knows his goose is cooked. “Pritch! No!” he screams. As I watch, struck dumb with dread, Elliot jumps on him from behind, his arm looping around the man's neck. He tightens his chokehold and Mr. Backseat's eyes bulge and his face goes pale. He struggles, but he's no match for Elliot. Elliot's eyes bore into mine as he strangles the life out of his former friend. I'm frozen, unable to do anything but stand there and watch a man die right in front of me.

  It takes a long time for him to die.

  Or maybe time has slowed. I can't tell. I can't stop staring at the expression on Mr. Backseat's face as the life leaves his eyes. It's oddly fascinating. And horrifying.

  Finally, he's dead. His eyes go blank and he droops, his whole body going limp. Elliot shoves the dead man away and stands, swiping his arm across his forehead. His chest heaves and he's sweating like he's just been running a marathon. His eyes are manic, and I take a step back, flattening myself against the tree.

  Elliot is back on me in a flash, one hand clamping around my throat and the other dragging my hand down to the massive erection tenting his jeans. I moan, the sound a mixture of the fear and desire I feel for him, but I don't hesitate. I practically rip open his fly, freeing his big cock. I wrap my fingers around him, loving how warm and heavy he is.

  I've missed him so much.

  I stroke him and he growls like he's in pain.

  “Harder,” he hisses. I do as he commands, jerking him off fast, rough, and hard. He presses his forehead to mine, our breath colliding furiously at the exertion. It doesn't take long before he makes a strangled sound and stiffens. A smile curls over my lips as his hot come shoots into my palm. He doesn't need to tell me what to do.

  I lift my palm to my mouth and lick up every bit of his come, eyes closed as I savor his taste. His breathing is jagged and I know I'm turning him on. After being in prison for three years, I know that was just an appetizer. The main course is surely coming up.

  “I would never let him touch you,” he says, finally, his voice hoarse. “I needed him to get out, that's the only reason I brought him.”

  “You didn't trust me enough to tell me,” I say, dragging my gaze up to his eyes.

  “I couldn't,” he rasps. “It had to be real.”

  “My terror had to be real?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up. “I had to be as terrified as possible?” He nods, the manic look in his eyes blazing. “Good job, Asshole. It worked.”

  “I know. I could see it. I could feel it. It made it easy to kill him.” His gaze is drilling into me, deep under my skin, and I know he's telling the truth. I want so badly to trust him. But I can't. Yet. “I'm never sharing you again. That shit is done,” he says and I feel his words deep within me. I believe him.

  “I thought you wanted to punish me,” I whisper. He thrusts his thigh between mine and twists my hands behind me. My heart jumps in my throat, and I don't know if I'm going to scream or come. Maybe both.

  “I am going to punish you,” he says, his lips brushing mine. “I've been thinking about how I'm going to punish you for three years.” He grinds his hips into mine and I gasp out a moan, feeling completely and totally owned by him. I'm his and he's mine. It's never been clearer to me than right now. “Three long years,” he growls, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. I arch my back, pressing the length of myself against him. The tension of the last twelve hours dissolves like smoke, and it's just me and Elliot again.

  Joan and Elliot, two normal, crazy-ass people.

  “I'm going to punish you so hard, you're going to scream. You're going to scream so loud that it'll be embedded in my brain for another three years,” he whispers. “Fuck, I want to hear you scream, just for me.” He traces my bottom lip with his tongue and a shiver runs down my spine. My nipples are so hard, they could cut glass. I'm totally and completely mad for him, all over again. “But first, we have to take care of Lassiter.”

  “Lassiter?” I murmur.

  “Yeah, Lassiter.”

  “Oh,” I answer, tilting my head to look around Elliot, at the dead man crumbled on the ground. Mr. Backseat has a name at last. “Yes. We do.”

  Time to bury my first body.

  I have a feeling it won't be my last.

  Chapter Twenty

  I wake up and my whole body aches. I don't know how long we've been asleep in the car, but my back doesn't like the lumpy backseat. My knees hurt and my shoulders hurt as well. But Elliot's face is pressed to my neck, his big body wrapped tightly around mine. We're dirty and we smell like sweat and earth and death, but I don't want to move. I want to cherish the feel of him for a little while longer.

  We buried Lassiter in the shallow brush of the woods, then Elliot rolled a log over the spot to deter animals from digging him up. We buried him naked, without anything to identify him or be used as evidence. I pried the spent bullets out of a tree and pocketed the shell casing, leaving nothing behind. Elliot found my gun in the dirt and gave it back to me. I tucked it back into my ankle holster, feeling confident that I would no longer need it.

  We slept longer than we should have. Our arms and hands and clothes are caked with the moist dirt of woods and I feel in desperate need of a shower. We have to backtrack almost a day's drive to get back on course, and I'm not looking forward to it. But we have to get out of Kansas as soon as possible. The longer we stay, the worse it will be for us.

  I run my teeth along the shell of Elliot's ear, rousing him softly. I wish I could let him sleep, but we have to get moving. The plan's been shot to hell, but I'm not going to stop pushing. I have Elliot, finally, and I have no plans to give him up. He's mine. Period. He moans, his brow furrowing as he comes back to life.

  “Wake up, my love,” I whisper lightly, so lightly I almost hope he doesn't hear. I just want it to be a hint on his brain. A hint of a feeling. I don't really love him. Well, I don't think I do. Either way, I want him to think I do. He clenches his arms around me tight and I squirm a bit under the pressure. “El, wake up,” I whisper again. He finally opens his eyes and I watch as he slowly focuses on me, his cruel mouth turning up in a smile.

  “You're real,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I thought I was dreaming.”

  “I'm real,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We're real.”

  “Oh, baby.” He squeezes me again and I can feel his erection against my leg. “I'm going to fuck you.”

  “I know, baby.” I kiss him again. “But we have to go.”

  “No.” He shakes his head, burying his nose back in my neck. “It's time for your punishment.”

  Anticipation floods through me and my panties get wet on demand. I know we should get on the road. I know we can't waste any more time, but I can't stop myself from dragging my nails over his shoulders, leaving a trail of dirt on his shirt. I want him to punish me. I want it so bad it hurts. He lifts up off of me, arching his back and pulling off his dirty T-shirt. My hands immediately seek out his bare skin. He's damp with sweat and I want to run my mouth all over his chest and lick every drop off of him.

  He stares down at me, his eyes changing from sleepy to manic in no time flat. I bite my lip as he drags his gaze down my legs, his big body taking up all the empty space in my car. He's bulked up since he's been in prison, although I don't know how that's possible. He went from big to bigger. His arms are massive, his shoulders broader than I remember.

  He's terrifying.

  A ripple of fear runs through me, but it's tinged with arousal. Whatever he's going to do to me, I want him to do it. I don't care if it hurts. He can do whatever he wants.

  “Get out,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

  “Get out?” I
repeat, a pang hitting me low in the guts.

  “Now,” he growls and I know it's time to go. I scoot to sitting, my eyes on his, and then open the door. I bolt out, jogging across the road, putting some distance between us. I know he'll hunt me down, and I can't wait. He unfolds himself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Check the trunk,” I call to him. He shoots me a dark look then unlocks the trunk. He pulls out the black bag I have in there, filled with things I brought just for him, including a length of rope. The rope I've been keeping for over a year, waiting for him to tie me up with it. His face darkens, and I know I've picked exactly the right gift for him. His eyes find mine, and I can't help it.

  I smile.

  This situation is so messed up on so many levels, but I'm done apologizing. I'm done feeling guilty and feeling like I'm broken and I'll never be fixed. I know what I want and I'm done denying it.

  I want Elliot and all of his fucked-up, violent, psychotic criminal perversion.

  “Take off your fucking clothes,” he says, raveling the rope around his forearm, then unraveling it. I don't hesitate. I pull my T-shirt over my head, then kick off my shoes. Elliot leans against the car, his eyes on me as he continues playing with the rope. I unbuckle my jeans, sliding them down my legs as quickly as possible. I feel dirty and sweaty, but I don't give a fuck. I want Elliot to get me even dirtier.

  I stand there, naked in the middle of nowhere, and I feel right at home.

  *****

  I'm so hard it feels like my cock could slice through my jeans like a knife through butter. She's tied between two trees, her arms spread eagle, and her knees on the ground. Her bronzed skin is bared completely to me, all of her open and wanting. She's still skinnier than I want her, but her body will always be my temple. I'll worship her until the day I die. Her tits rise and fall with each breath and her pink nipples are pinched tight . The slit of her pussy is calling for me. Her panties are stuffed in her hot little mouth and her eyes are glazed and hungry.

  God, those eyes.

  I thought I would never see them again.

  I still don't think she believes that I love her but it's true. As I look down on her beautiful face, I know it's true. She's given up everything for me, just like I gave up everything for her. We're completely even now. The past is not my fucking enemy any longer. I don't ever want to go back. I'll die first.

  I stand back, admiring my handiwork, ignoring my dick for as long as possible. I want to keep this memory of her for the rest of my fucking life. She deserves every bit of this punishment, for what she did to me. Every new photo she sent was like a dagger to my heart. The pain would shoot all through me and the ache would never go away. I never knew love could hurt so bad, until I met her.

  I'm going to hurt her right back.

  I unbuckle my jeans and pull my cock out, circling my fingers around the base. Fuck, it feels good. I can't wait to plunge balls deep into her. The waiting is almost painful, but it's a good kind of pain. It's pain with an end in sight. I fist my hand in her hair, pulling her head back. She cries out, the sound muffled by her gag. I run the head of my cock down her cheek, then over her lips, toying with her.

  “You want to suck this cock?” I ask, tracing her bottom lip. She moans, her eyes glazing over and her eyelids fluttering. I know she's turned on. She wants me. She wants my cock. It's time to take back what's mine. I dip my fingers into her mouth, pulling out her panties. She gasps in air, but before she can take a deep breath, I plunge my cock deep into her open lips. I feel the vibrations of the gag at the back of her throat on the tip of me and it feels like fucking heaven. It feels like getting a fix from a drug, and I'm an addict, through and through.

  I rear back, giving her some relief, but I don't let her get too comfortable. I love the way her jaw stretches open to try to fit all of me in. I love how the tears run down her cheeks as she gags and chokes on me. I plunge back inside of her hot mouth, the sensation tightening my stomach and making my heart stop. I see her gripping the rope with her fingers until her knuckles turn white, her wrists already red and raw from the rough twine. Saliva drips down onto her tits as her mouth gushes around me. She's so goddamn beautiful.

  My Joan.

  I pull out of her and she coughs and drags air in to her lungs. “Is that all you got?” she asks breathlessly, taunting me. I smile, tightening my hand in her hair. She whimpers, her eyes on my cock.

  “No,” I say. “Not even close.”

  I buck my hips, my cock coming within centimeters of her lips. She opens her mouth and darts out her tongue, ready for me to slide inside. But now it's my turn to tease. She wants it, so I keep it from her. She tries to lean forward and claim me, but I don't loosen my grip in her hair. She lets out a frustrated groan and I finally have mercy on her.

  “Beg,” I say. Pride flares up in her eyes and I smack her cheek with my dick to remind her who's in charge. “Beg,” I repeat.

  “Please,” she whispers. “Please, Elliot.”

  "Open your mouth." She follows my instructions, but it's not good enough. "Wider." She drops her jaw so that I can see her tonsils, squirming against her bonds. I guide my cock against her tongue, the watching almost as good as the feeling. She runs her tongue up the underside of me, and my eyes roll up inside my head.

  This is what I dreamt about all those years ago on that first night. Well, almost. Back then, I didn't dream big enough. I dreamt about keeping her all for myself, dominating her and making her submit, but I didn't realize how much better it could be. When she looks in my eyes, I know. We're in this shit together.

  We're a team.

  That's the best fucking part.

  I want to come and watch her swallow it down, but I also don't want to let this moment go to waste. I'm free, for now. I'm not an idiot, I know the odds aren't good. I'm a fugitive, and that shit isn't gonna go away just because I'm a better man now than when I went in.

  Well, maybe I'm not better. But I'm trying to be.

  Joanie deserves it, after all she's been through.

  She also deserves all the punishment I've got planned for her.

  I jerk my cock out of her mouth before I blow and smile when she moans. Her moans are music to my ears, but they're not enough. I'm ready to hear her scream.

  I release her hair and some of her dark strands still cling to my fingers. I watch them float off in the breeze, then I haul her up by her hips. She gasps, teetering on her tiptoes, trying to get her balance.

  My hands holding her steady, I drop to my knees, her pussy level with my gaze. She's wet already, but I want her dripping and shaking and gushing. I want to know how much she wants me. Every night in my cell, I would think about the times I made her want me, the times she moaned and softened and looked at me like I was something other than a monster. Then she sent me pictures of her with other men, while they touched her and did what I wanted to do so badly. I would curse and rage at how trapped I was. Now that I'm free to do what I want to her, I take my time, licking a slow path from her clit upwards. Her knees shake, but I've got her.

  She won't fall.

  She arches her back, the low light through the trees accentuating every muscle of her back, every bone of her spine, every inch of silky skin. God, I love her so much. I didn't think it was possible to love someone as much as I love Joanie. She has all of my goddamn soul. I French-kiss her pussy as the tide of emotion sweeps over me. I'll do anything to have her. I've already killed for her. I'll kill again if I have to. I hope it won't come to that, but I have no control over the future. The only thing I can control is the here and now, her orgasm and mine.

  She tosses her head back, a low cry escaping her lips, as I circle her clit and suck on her sweet flesh. I'm almost ready. Almost. She clenches her thighs, her body jerking against my mouth. She's almost ready, too. I can feel it. Before she can come, I pull back.

  “El, please,” she moans, but I ignore her. I leave her aching for more, standing slowly, both hands encircling he
r hips. She's shaking and her breathing is quick and shallow, and I know I've made her want me, but my mind drifts back to the photos. The photo of her mouth around another man's cock. The one of another man's cock poised to enter her pretty pussy. And my personal favorite—the picture where I could see her smile, at the edge of the print, as some other motherfucker did what I wanted to do so badly. I ripped all of the pictures to shreds and flushed them before I left the prison, but I wish I had that one, now. I wish I could let her know how that one felt.

  The day I opened that letter, I beat a guy bloody in the cafeteria and ended up in solitary for two weeks. Two weeks to bang my head against the walls and break my knuckles on the concrete floor, thinking about her fucking other men and liking it. When they let me out, there was a new letter waiting for me, a new picture of her giving herself to someone other than me. The torture was never-ending.

  The strange thing was the only thing that got me through my three years inside was that she continued sending letters. I would dread them and wait for them at the same time. Every time I got one of her blue envelopes, I knew she was still thinking about me, even as she tortured me. She still wanted me, in her way.

  But that's all in the past now.

  Well, it will be, once I'm finished punishing her.

  *****

  I roll my hips impatiently, wanting his hands to move, and wanting his tongue back against me. He's not moving though, he's simply standing behind me, so close I can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Torturing me. Punishing me. My arms ache, my head is swimming, and my knees are practically knocking together, but I'm all in.

  I'm like a broken record. I go around and around, but my body always comes back to him.

  He slides one hand up my hip and over my lower back, and I bite my lip in frustration. I know what's coming, and I've been waiting for it for the better part of three years. The waiting is killing me, hurting me, but for once, I don't mind the hurt. I'm expecting it, but it still takes me by surprise when he plunges his cock inside me, two fingers sliding into my ass at the same time. I almost scream, but I force my lips to clamp shut. He doesn't get it yet. The longer I wait, the better it'll be.