by J. L. Beck
“I’m not scared of you,” I inform him with everything in me. Even if I am going to die, I will do it in a fashion that is me. He will know I died unafraid of him, and that to me is the most important thing.
A war rages within him as his muscles constrict. He can’t decide if he wants to strangle me or not… He unclasps his hand, and I swallow a breath of air just in time. His hand clenches again, and I swear I feel the bones in my neck snapping.
Or maybe it is all a dream. I know the moment he makes his decision because a tenderness shows in his eyes.
“You should be…” he mumbles against my throat as he kisses the bruises that I am sure are there. There is a tenderness in the way he caresses me. It is as if he is trying to scrub away the bad, as if he wants to take the hurt away. He is conflicted, and fucked up I can’t even describe him.
“I’m not. To be scared will be to show weakness, and I know better than to show weakness in front of some self-righteous asshole.” My words are laced with so much hate. I feel like I am trying to make myself like him less, as if saying the words out loud will make him less appealing to my body, to my heart.
“Being scared doesn’t make you weak…” His eyes glaze over, hazy with a memory, I’m sure. He had to have had a fucked up childhood to have turned into the beautifully damaged man he is. He never speaks of his mother or father. He never says he had any siblings, and though he doesn’t ask me about my life, he knows a lot more about me than I know about him.
“In the eyes of a monster like you it does.” His lips lick over one of my bruises and trail up to my ear. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I feel a surge of adrenaline go through me. His teeth nibble at my lobe, and I feel myself growing weak against him. My defenses are nothing when it comes to the things he can do with his mouth.
Hot breath can be felt against my ear, but my body is long gone when it comes to talking. I want him. Despite how mean and ugly he is on the inside, my body craves him.
“You forget that every fallen angel was once an angel themselves. Monsters don’t really want to be monsters. We’re just like everyone else, waiting for someone to come save us from our very own damned darkness.”
I pull away from him, frazzled and warm with need. Confusion is evident on my face as he looks at me smiling. Maybe that’s how he has wanted me this whole time: confused, broken, and lost with no purpose here. If I don’t know anything, then I can never leave.
“Why did you tell me that?” Does he really want someone to save him? Does he even need someone to save him? Can he be saved? Can someone so dark and hateful come back from that? My mind goes straight to the moment I watched him shoot those people in their heads. The light in him had diminished and left in its place is a gaping hole of nothing.
“Come with me,” he growls, his eyes hungry. I don’t want to go anywhere with him. My mind and body aren’t on the same course, though, because I find myself standing and placing my hand in his. He leads me from the bedroom, down the stairs and into the basement.
As we descend the stairs, my mind and body clam up. Should I tell him about Mack? It still occurs to me that Zerro might not believe me. That he might even accuse me of wanting and encouraging Mack’s attention.
He doesn’t catch my hesitation or just doesn’t care because he continues to pull me down the stairs. The cobblestone floors are cold underneath my feet.
He pulls a set of keys from his pocket as we pass the door that leads to the dungeon that had been my home for more than a few days.
The door before us is wooden, wide and large. I wonder what is behind it, but at the same time I don’t. Zerro has secrets. Who knows what, or who, he has buried down here.
Opening the door, he smiles at me. It isn’t a warm and friendly one, but more along of the lines of one that says I will eat you alive and laugh while doing it.
I enter the room slowly, afraid something will jump out at any point and time. He moves behind me ever so slowly, like a snake ready to strike. The room is simple, except there are drawers that line one of the wooden walls.
What they contain, I have no idea. I am sure I am about to find out, though.
“Go stand at the end of that wall…” He points to the far wall, the one that seems as if it is a million miles away, the one furthest from the door. How can I escape if I am so far away?
Dread eats at my insides. Is this the end? Is he going to kill me? I try my best not to show weakness, but I know as much as he did that he will kill me whenever he sees fit.
With my head held high, I walk the distance as if I am walking to my own funeral. Turning around to face him, I stand against the wall with my back straight. If I am going to die, I will be dying in a way that says I have stood tall and proud when I was given no other choice.
A smirk lights his face. It is devious and makes the darkness in his eyes seem that much darker. His body looks hungry for either release or bloodshed.
Silence passes, and I am certain that this will be the end. I watch as he pulls a drawer open, his eyes growing wide with happiness as he handles whatever it is that is in his hands.
I want to run, to escape, with all my might. I want to run away from this man as much as I want to run to him.
I look up through the shitty lighting to see a knife sitting on the palm of his hand. He grabs the end of it as if he has experience using it. He probably does…
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it.” The words rush from my lips without intention to do so. He peeks up at me again, pushing away a couple pieces of his dark hair that have landed against his forehead.
“I’m not going to kill you. Yet. Instead, I’m going to do something far worse…” He examines the knife as if he isn’t certain that it will do its job. If he isn’t going to kill me, what is he going to do?
My mind is reeling, and then in a blink of an eye, I watch him throw the knife. His body is full of pent up aggression, and it is like watching a train wreck happen. He is going to kill me. I know it.
Alzerro
The knife lands with precision right where I expect it to— just shy of cutting her ear off. A breath of an inch closer and she would have been one ear short of two.
Her eyes are as wide as saucers. Fear is rooted deeply in them, and I know she thinks I am going to kill her. She thinks that one of these many knives is meant for her.
She is wrong. None of these knives are meant for her; they are meant for me.
“Whatever fucking crazy ass rollercoaster you’re on, I want off.” She sounds tiny, and her body trembles with fear. I laugh in the face of it. Nothing scares me. I have lost everyone who was important to me. Being scared means you have something to lose. I have nothing.
“Sorry, no refunds, baby,” I taunt, grabbing another knife from the drawer. I can go all night. There are knives upon knives that can be thrown, but I have other ideas as to what I can do with them.
“Then kill me. Do it. Because this game, or whatever it is that you’re playing, is fucking with my head. You’re fucking with my head. Forget the debt, just do what you planned to do all along.” She sounds like she may be pleading or begging, but she doesn’t sound defeated. My dick grows harder with every word that passes from those full lips of hers.
Her face is flushed in fear, and I know if I remove her clothing, I will find other parts of her body flushed as well. She is beautiful even as she trembles.
“What I plan to do to you doesn’t pertain to actual death, although after I bring you to the edge over and over again, I’m sure you will be wishing that I had just killed you.”
Her face shows understanding as her lips part. Is she ready for me already? Does this type of thing bring her pleasure? Maybe she is darker than I thought.
“I won’t let you…” She is trying to sound strong, but I know, as does she, that if I feel between her legs, I will find her pussy soaked with need.
“You will.” I am not full of myself, I just know when someone is lying, when they are hiding what t
hey truly want.
She wants me. I just have to make her omit it to herself. You want her too… My mind is playing tricks on me. I wouldn’t ever say that, feel that.
Her hair is plastered to her face, and her small legs are shaking. I slide my eyes up her legs so very slowly, taking in the slope of her thighs, imagining the way they will feel squeezing me as I enter her.
If she feels anything close to the way she felt when I entered her with my fingers, I am going to be in heaven. There is nothing more glorious or satisfying than entering tight, virgin pussy. My dick is rising in approval. Her pussy is mine, only mine.
I cross the distance between us, my body moving effortlessly. I still hold a knife firmly in my hand as I watch her eyes skirt to it. Fear still shows, but something else does too. Excitement? My blood stirs.
I stand directly in front of her. The edge of the knife is sharp, but I know just how to move it so that it won’t hurt her beautiful skin. If she thinks she is going to die, she is wrong. I will bring her to the edge over and over again. By the end of the night, she will wish she had been dead.
“What are you doing with that?” Our eyes meet, her brown ones meeting mine. I smile, my eyes narrowing as I pull the knife up to her lips. A gasp leaves her mouth as she begs me with her eyes. What is it that she wants?
Pushing the knife against her full, red bottom lip, I wait for her to say something, to beg me to take her. Instead, she just stands there, maybe out of defiance or even fear. I don’t know. I just know it makes me want her more. I grip the edge tighter as I slide the tip over her skin. A small red line marks her skin as I slide it lower, down her neck and over her beating heart.
“Are you scared?” I whisper to her. Her breaths are hot against my skin. I am on the verge of taking her without following through with what I want to do.
She sucks her lip into her mouth, shaking her head no. I smile sickingly, gliding the tip from her chest back up to her collarbone. The red scratch that shows on her skin is nothing compared to what I can do to her body.
Her flimsy night shirt is no match for me. I pull it from her body, taking the knife and cutting it straight down the middle.
“Oh, God…” she murmurs softly as we both watch the material fall to the ground. She stands before me in a pair of plain white panties and a black bra. It is plain as well, but against her skin, it looks more than plain. It accents her well.
Taking the knife, I move it under the strap of her bra.
“My name’s Alzerro. Please use it...” I say roughly, just on the verge of falling off the edge. I haven’t even taken her panties off yet, and I am ready to explode.
“Zerro…” she pants, her eyes wanting to meet mine. Her hands reach out, tracing across my shoulders. Her touch is soft, and my body wants it, wants her.
I slide her bra strap down and trace across her chest to release the other one. Bringing the knife back between her breasts, I push it straight down the middle, cutting the material from her body. It falls to the ground as her perfectly perky tits are unleashed.
Her skin is milky white, and her nipples are a dusky pink. I want to lick and bite at them, but I place a kiss against each one instead. Her lips part as I stare at her, my tongue slipping out of my mouth and circling her nipple. She tastes sweet, like cherries and vanilla. Her unique scent surrounds me, pushing all thoughts to the back of my mind. Making her come is front and center.
I kneel down before her, scraping the knife across her skin. By the time I get to her panties, I am panting with need.
I slide the knife across her hips, watching as her panties fall to the ground. Nothing is separating us anymore. She is spread out for me. Mine.
Her pussy is freshly shaven, and it begs to me. Her pulse jumps as I separate her lips, my finger sliding through the slick wetness. Her need for me can be seen and smelled from miles away.
“You want me?” I growl. It isn’t really meant to be a question, but more like I’m letting her know that I know. She says nothing, other than allowing a gasp to leave her lips. I push her legs apart.
Gripping her behind one leg, I place it over my shoulder. I want to feast on that slick pussy.
“Please,” she greets me with a begging plea as she lifts her other leg to place it over my shoulder to allow me to grip her ass and bring her pussy to my face. The knife falls to the floor. She smells delightful, and I can’t decide what I want to do more—fuck her or eat her out. I nuzzle her, and I feel her legs grip my face tighter. I smile like the prick I am.
My tongue darts out, circling around her clit. “Fuck…” she cries out. Her fingers grab at my hair. Fuck is right… Nothing in this world can pull me away from her.
Leaning forward, I lick her from back to front, over and over again until her legs are shaking. Her hips move feverishly, and I can tell from the purrs she is making that she is right there.
I enter her slowly with one finger, testing just how close she is. Her muscles clench around my thick digit as I suck her clit into my mouth. Who knew such a small, little thing could bring such great pleasure?
“Yes… Yes… Fuck yes…” She barely gets out as her pussy grinds against my face. I don’t mind, though. I am smiling, sucking and nipping at every piece of her.
She tastes just as she smells and I pull her off of my face, making sure that I hold her body up as I remove my own clothes. From the faraway look in her eyes, I know I’m working her over so well.
“I’m going to fuck that tight pussy now, Piccolo.” A sigh leaves her mouth as I lift her up by the ass. I stare into her hooded eyes. Parting her thighs, I position myself at her entrance. My cock is stiff with need. Dipping a finger inside of her, I take the wetness from within and rub it onto my cock.
I stroke myself hard, a hiss leaving my mouth as I press into her folds. “This is what you do to me. You make me a crazed monster…” I murmur against her flesh. My teeth bite down on her shoulder as I push into her ever so slowly. She is tighter than anything I have ever felt.
A cry escapes her lips as I release my hold on her shoulder and look into her eyes. Being a virgin, I know she is overwhelmed with emotion and pleasurable pain, so I sit still for a moment before pushing into her all the way. No words need to be said. I plan on spelling everything out plainly and simply. My strokes and bites will be my words.
“Your pussy is mine…” I croon as I wait for her to adjust to my presence inside of her. It is all mine for the taking. I am going to pound her so hard…
“More…” she implores, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as I pull out and slam back into her. Her ass slips from my hands, making me tighten my grip. My muscles clench, and I am going to tear her apart if I don’t slow down.
“You get what I give.” I don’t sound like myself as I pull out and push back into her. My cock is swelling. I feel my balls squeezing, wanting to release even though we have hardly begun.
Sweat covers our bodies as I stare at her, nose to nose. Determination shows in every push of my body into hers. It’s my will to break her beyond repair, to bring her into the darkness with me, and allow her to be that one person who prevents me from destroying everyone and everything.
Her nails dig into my shoulders while her tits bounce up and down. My pace picks up, and eventually her head falls back against the wall as an obscene amount of swear words leave her mouth.
Smiling against her skin, I feel my muscles coil, telling me that my release is coming and is coming fast. A few more strokes and she will be there, so I need to last it out.
Slipping my hand between us, I place my thumb against her clit. She cries out, her muscles clenching my dick a vice. Her screams are hoarse, and I pull myself from her as she melts into a mass of nothing. Holding her up against the wall, I take my hand and stroke my cock tightly.
Since the moment I brought her here, I had the need to mark her, to make sure that she knows she is mine. My strokes become harder and faster. Every slide over the head and back up pushes me that much clo
ser to where I want to be.
“Fuck yeah…” Her eyes are mesmerized as she watches me. I grit my teeth as my release comes, squirting all over her beautiful stomach and thighs. I want to rub it in, but I also want to make sure every ounce of my seed lands on her.
As I continue to jerk off, she moans, her fingers sliding through my semen. She is rubbing it in for me. I’ll be fucking damned if my dick doesn’t want to take her again.
As she rubs it in, I stare, unable to pull my eyes from her body. She is everything I want and everything I need to stay away from. She is a weakness, and I will only bring her down if I head down a road where I think it will be okay to want something more from her.
Love isn’t in my cards. It is hard to love someone when every person you have ever cared about is ripped from you.
Sliding one arm under her knees and the other cradling her head, I hold her against my body. She is a tiny thing, light, but curvy.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whisper against her skin as I watch her eyes close. She falls into a blissful sleep before my feet even hit the top steps. She is the angel, and I am the devil. There is no saving us from the destruction I will cause.
Bree
It had been three days since I had the most mind blowing sex of my life. Zerro is a dark man, but I am starting to crave him. He hasn’t fucked me since that night and though I have given him blow jobs and allowed him to go down on me many times, we still haven’t connected again.
“Get out of bed,” he orders, his voice stern. He has started to grow angrier every day, and just the other night when I heard him conversing with Mack, a bottle of bourbon was smashed against the wall.
I roll my eyes at his command. He might have a hold over my body, but my mind is mine to keep. I can say whatever I want in my mind, and if I had the courage, I would say it out loud.
“Out,” he orders again, coming to my side of the bed. I growl, my feet hitting the floor. We have gone over this. I told him there will be no ordering me around, and though he didn’t agree, I figured I had gotten my point across. Obviously not.