by V. F. Mason
I’m a monster, and they don’t have hearts.
Back then, I hadn’t realized the deep, set-in-stone truth of those words.
New York, New York
June 2018
Psychopath
Stepping inside the house, I immediately search for Ella but don’t find her anywhere.
Frowning, I go to each bedroom and bathroom, but there is no sign of her. She couldn’t have escaped, as she doesn’t know the alarm code and I would have been notified.
Hitting the table, I shout, “Ella!” But she doesn’t reply, probably hiding somewhere from me and licking her wounds.
But then it hits me that there is a place I haven’t checked, and sweat drips down my back as I rush downstairs to the basement, hoping I’m wrong.
She’s standing near my weapon wall, running her fingers over various devices as she focuses her attention on the kitchen knife with a sharp serrated edge. Although it’s not as big as most blades, it brings piercing pain to the victim and always leaves scars.
Her hair is mussed and her bare feet rub against each other; she is acting as if in a trance.
I curse inwardly, because I should have seen the signs when I went to the media room, but I was so deep into my own agony I didn’t see her stunned state.
I finally broke her.
Why doesn’t it bring me pleasure? Isn’t it the proof I so desperately needed?
“Ella,” I address her gently, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t even turn to face me.
“It’s all so clean, even though you just killed a man,” she whispers softly, her voice raspy.
Does her throat hurt?
“I cleaned it up.” I always do, not wanting to have their blood or smell present in my life.
A laugh slips past her lips, but it sounds hollow and lacks any humor. “Yes, you are all about control and killing those who deserve it.” She clicks with her fingers. “That’s how they taught you, right?” She finally faces me, and only then do I see her wet cheeks and cracked lips, dry blood on them. “How will you clean it once you kill me?” she asks, and I freeze. “I mean, I’m innocent.” She places her hand on her chest as her lips tremble. “I’m innocent of any crimes. How will you get rid of me?”
Desperation runs through me. I need to soothe her, to get her the fuck away from here, but emotions are still raw between us, and she steps back from me. “Ella, come on.” She shakes her head, cries racking her body as she tries to control herself.
“End this, Kierian. Just do it. Enough. We both know you will never change.” She raises her chin. “Finish what we came here for.”
“You are hysterical,” I say, but fear rushes at me, because I’ve never seen her beautiful brown eyes this blank.
I can’t kill her. For whatever reason, I long to keep her and have her in my life, maybe bring a little light to it.
She said she loved me. What is it like to be loved in this life? People called it a gift.
I wouldn’t know.
But she doesn’t want this life, and how does it make me different from my fathers? Sick bastards who used a poor, young woman for their twisted desires?
How do I save her from myself when she is already here?
“This is important to you, right?” she screams and picks up the knife swiftly. “Hurting me is what brings you pleasure. Mentally or physically, it makes no difference to you.” She raises it and is about to stab herself in the stomach, when I snap out of my shock and manage to halt her movements.
Wrapping my hands tightly around the weapon, we breathe heavily as we press against each other. Tears are sliding down her cheeks, as she cries out, “Let go of me. That’s what you wanted! To test me. Then do it. No matter how much pain I will be in, I won’t give up.” She finishes on a sob and turns around as the knife drops with a loud clatter on the floor. “Let go of me. You’ve already done this anyway.” She spins around, but I lock my arms around her waist and hug her from behind. I close my eyes, breathing in her scent, while she cries in my arms.
Her shampoo reminds me of a green field where I used to go as a child and my mom would teach me how to dream while gazing at the clear, blue sky. Dreams that never came true.
Bringing her closer, I don’t know what to do with her. With us.
Part of me hates her.
Part of me loves her.
Part of me wants to hurt her.
But the bigger part of me wants to free her so she will forever forget this nightmare.
She was never supposed to be an attachment, just an experiment.
When did she become an obsession?
If I could be someone else, if I could have had different childhood experiences, then maybe we would have a different ending to this story.
But we can’t. It’s impossible to fix me, and she won’t love me while I continue to do what I do. And I can’t ever stop.
It’s in my blood.
She’s right. She will never give up; she even loves with dignity, having herself as a priority.
The decision is made in my head, but before doing it, I need to feel her one last time, giving us what we so desperately need in this moment.
With that thought in mind, I shift her to face me while she whimpers, her eyes shut. Sliding my hand up her neck, I bring us closer and without warning slam my mouth on hers as she struggles in my hold. For the first second, she doesn’t welcome my touch, but then she relaxes in the embrace, fisting the front of my shirt while our mouths engage in a deep, probing kiss that is filled with desperation and doom. Without speaking it aloud, we both know it’s our last time together.
My lungs burn with the lack of air, but I don’t let it deter me from continuing my assault as she sways a little to the side, and I follow, pressing her against the wall. She gulps as much air as possible while I hike her hoodie up, wanting to feel her skin, when she whispers in my ear, “I hate you. You destroyed me.” And this time, these words are not said in the heat of the moment, but it’s the God’s honest truth I see shining from her eyes.
We have no illusions that this isn’t the last time.
But I won’t have our last time be tainted by the presence of all the ghosts of those I’ve killed in this place.
Sliding my palms under her ass, I pick her up and she circles her legs around me as we go upstairs, not for a second taking my eyes off her while she rests her cheek on my shoulder, breathing evenly.
It takes several minutes, but I finally place her on the bed and she scoots back, her brown eyes exceptionally vivid against her pale skin as she wipes away the tears.
She’s never looked so broken or alone, and I hate myself for it.
“I can go, Ella.”
She doesn't say anything, but then rises to her knees and comes closer, motioning for me to do the same, and I comply immediately. She places her hands on my shoulders and exhales a heavy breath. “This is all we’ll ever have, isn't it?” she asks, and I don't know what to say.
We have no future; we didn't from the very beginning.
Her name means the light—how fucking ironic?
The light never mixes with the dark, because it can’t be tainted by it.
But I tainted her in a way she will never forget, in a way no man should.
And every dark part of me loves it, because it leaves my brand on her.
How fucked up is that?
“Yes,” I reply, and she closes her eyes, wincing, but then opens them again, giving me an intense stare that awakens the familiar rush between us.
I start to think that nothing and no one can ever extinguish it.
“Then tonight is our last night? Everything will be different tomorrow?” She doesn't wait for my answers, but instead asks, “Can you be truly mine tonight, then?” My brows furrow, so she continues. “Give up your control that’s ever present in all our encounters. Can you do that for me?” Her words freeze me on the spot, because that’s the one thing I vowed never to give away.
To give it away means to trust a
person to never turn their back on me or hurt me with that power. How can she ask me for it?
But then she pleads. “Please. For once, let me pretend I have all of you. That it was worth it, however long it lasted. I leaped and I lost, but at least I will know I had it all.” She puts her hand above my heart, whispering, “I won’t do anything bad.”
How can I refuse that?
Without saying anything else, I step back and tug on my shirt, removing it quickly along with everything else.
Her breath hitches, and she does the same with the hoodie, showcasing the beautiful body that was always supposed to be mine.
Too bad not for long.
Not taking my gaze away from her, I wait for her next move, because she wants to run the show, and I’ll let her.
Just for once.
She grabs my hands and pulls me on the bed, and as I get to it, she flips me on my back while looming over me, her eyes roaming all over my body.
Her fingers trail down my scars and her breath hitches, as if in pain. “They are old.” I feel the need to reassure her, and she smiles sadly.
“They aren’t if they still have the power to hurt you.” Her words stab me like a fucking knife in the heart that suddenly knows how to beat for another person, but she shakes her head. “This has no place for bad memories.” Ella captures my mouth with hers as we entwine in a wet and needy kiss that leaves us alone with raging desire between us spiking the flames.
The kiss awakens my strong need for her that I barely restrain myself from taking back my control and entering her easily, finding the oblivion only she can give me.
I fist her hair, mashing our mouths closer, but she pulls away as our panting breaths fill the space. “My rules, remember?” she says while taking my hand and placing it above my head, leaving my other one to rest by my side.
She nips on my chin, slides her lips down the column of my throat, and then licks my collarbone, paying attention to each scar inflicted by him, and I wish her mouth had been with me when it all happened.
To soothe it all better in the darkest moments of my past so I could hold on to her and never let go.
But what I have is now, and it’s fucking magnificent.
She trails kisses down my abs after taking a bite of each pec as she slides lower and lower, and I can feel her wetness slicking down my leg.
My cock throbs painfully, needing her to soothe the ache, but I don't rush her. She wanted fucking control; she’s got it. But serious as fuck, she is driving me out of my mind with her slow seduction and desire to please every part of me, despite me being a monster.
Her breath fans my cock and I hiss.
Ella
In this moment, I don't think or dwell on the future. I just exist with my lover in our make-believe world where everything is perfect and I can run away from the truth.
I don’t think I’m weak or broken, or even heartbroken for that matter.
I just concentrate on Kierian and his desire-filled eyes, and fear too that shines from him because he doesn't know what to expect.
He doesn't have to expect anything but loving from me.
His cock demands attention and I grip it, running my hand up and down his length, wiping away the precum and tasting it on my tongue. “Ella,” he warns, but I just grin.
“Not your rules.” In rare instances when he’s allowed me to touch his body, it’s usually been at his demand, and I’d kneel in front of him, asking permission to pleasure him.
Not this time.
Blowing a little on the head, I take him in my mouth as his groan fills the air, and he grabs the headboard tighter, clearly not wanting to dictate the show.
I suck on him with a hungry urgency, sliding my mouth up and down while paying extra attention to the head, nipping on it from time to time, and tightening the grip of my hand at his base, while more cum spills into my mouth. I’m hungry and wild for him, as my core throbs with urgency to have him inside me, but I ignore it and focus on him as he pushes a little forward, and I open my mouth wider to accommodate him better.
But then I still his hips with my hands, and he slips out of my mouth with a loud pop as I scatter kisses down his length, pressing the tip of my tongue on his underside, making him jerk again.
He growls this time and grabs my chin. As our eyes meet, he lifts his hips up and makes me take him again. While I suck him with newfound desire, I slip my hand down to my core, wanting to calm the fire that spreads through me.
I want to taste him and make him crazy with my mouth so he will lose all control.
But he has other plans it seems.
Psychopath
Fuck me.
It’s not that women weren't paying attention to my body or were on top of me or didn't suck my dick. But no one ever did it bringing so much peace, showing me with each touch that I’m loved, despite everything.
That I can trust without having this trust thrown back in my face.
She is moaning around my length, the sound sending vibrations through me, and I can’t take this any longer. I can spill in her mouth, but I don't want that for our last time. I need to feel her squeezing her tight pussy around me, reminding me that for a short time this woman belonged to me.
Even if she didn't want it.
So, fisting her hair, I tug her up until finally our mouths collide and I taste myself on her, while she groans into me. Her hands wrap around my neck as she rubs her nipples against my chest like she needs the pressure that only I can give her.
She is hot and needy, grinding on me, seeking relief, but she can’t find it.
Not without my help.
I flip her onto her back and she yelps, but then it turns into a groan as I push her legs apart and find her dripping pussy begging for some attention from me. “Don’t tease,” she orders, lacing her hand in my hair and pulling me closer to her heat. I comply easily, because clearly sucking me off turns her on.
I lap through her folds, feasting on her unique taste that is so fucking sweet to me I think it’s a crime.
She jerks her hips, closing her thighs around my head, but it doesn't stop me from devouring her—licking her from side to side, dipping my tongue inside her and pushing, fucking her with my tongue while she groans and moans and possibly bites her fucking lower lip. That always drives me crazy.
She clenches around me, and I stop, to her loud protest. She trembles as I run my face against her heated flesh. I wonder, Do my whiskers scratch her sensitive skin? Trapping her clit between my lips again, I suck on it gently while she tugs on my hair with both hands and her loud scream echoes through the room as more flavor enters my mouth.
She is about to come, and I bring myself up to her chest rising and falling as she watches and pleads with her eyes for me to get going. “Does my Ella need me?” She nods and then thumbs her nipples, moaning. I scoot up, slapping her hands away, and squeeze them with mine, feasting on one nipple and then on the other while her legs wrap around me and her nails scratch my back, demanding more.
Moving to her other breast, I lavish it with the same attention while two of my fingers slide between us and I enter her, stretching her for me although she is so fucking ready that she grinds on them, trying to come from them alone.
“Won’t work, Ella.”
Her brows furrow, as she snaps, “Then get to it already!” With that, all games are off. The electricity rushes through me, and neither of us can take it anymore.
With one final suck to her beautiful nipple, I push my arms under her knees and thrust into her so hard the headboard hits the wall.
She cries out, but it quickly turns into a moan as I pull back and push in again, digging my fingers into her hips as hard as possible so she’ll be marked by me.
I expect her to close her eyes and get lost in the moment as she always does, but instead, she brings my head closer. Our gazes clash for a moment and then she hugs me, giving me a hot kiss that flames my desire even more.
Relentlessly, I pound into her ove
r and over again while enjoying every breath, every moan, every fucking sensation that is so familiar, yet so different this time around.
But this isn’t what she asked for, is it?
My thrusts change. They become deeper and slower as I let go of her thighs, and instead slip my hands under her waist as she wraps me close, not an inch between us.
My lips and lungs burn from the kisses, but I don't give a fuck.
I intend for it to last as long as possible, as long as I can control my need, as long as she can take it.
She groans with each push, as her heels dig into my ass and she urges me to speed up, but I don’t. We are entwined like this for what seems like an eternity, when Ella palms my face, bites my lower lip, and whispers, “I love you, Kierian.” And this ends me.
No one ever told me they loved me, not that I can remember anyway.
I thrust into her hard with one swift move, and her pussy clenches around me, bringing a scream tearing out of her throat as the familiar tingling in my spine signals my own release is imminent. My balls draw closer, my ass clenches, and I spill inside her with a loud growl, breathing heavily.
We lie locked with each other while she rubs her hands up and down my back, not saying anything.
Because the minute someone speaks, it will break the fragile cocoon that exists around us, and unfortunately it’s fake.
So I lie on my side while she does the same, facing me and trailing her fingers all over my face while tears stream down her cheeks, but she says nothing.
And hugging her closer and basking in our connection, I wish I was different and could give her what she so desperately wants from me.
But I can’t.
We fall asleep lullabied by the peace that for a short time settles over us.
Slipping from the bed, I gently roll Ella to her side, and she mumbles something in her sleep but hugs the pillow instead. I put on black jeans and a shirt, because this has to end.
Glancing one last time at her, I kiss her softly on the cheek and breathe in her scent, forever memorizing it.
If things could have been different, life would have been different.