Absolution

by LP Lovell

  He reaches for the knife and, cocking a brow, he traces the inside of my thigh. His eyes glint as he sweeps the blade over my panties. And my heart stalls, my breath hitching. This is dangerous, he holds the power and I am powerless. But I need someone to control me and Ezra can.

  He slips the edge of the knife beneath the lace at my hip, and the material slowly shreds. He smiles before he drags the blade across my stomach and cuts the other side, his hands angrily tearing the tattered lace away from my body. He shoves my legs apart and stares at me—at the dirtiest parts of me. There's something empowering about being completely naked in front of a man who looks at you like you are something holy and divine.

  A deep grin sets on his face as he takes the knife and carefully traces over my bare pussy, sliding the flat edge over my clit. The cold metal feels good rolling over my warm skin. The possibility that he may hurt me causes my adrenaline to spike.

  "This time, you will beg me to stop." He breathes those words against my skin before he stabs the knife into the wooden floor. His thick fingers dig into my thighs as he forces them apart with such violent strength my muscles burn. My pulse hammers with anticipation. I want his sin. The moment his warm mouth lays over me, he consumes everything, and he becomes my god. There is nothing but Ezra and me and our sin. This beautiful, tragically filthy sin.

  Groaning, he spreads me open and thrusts his tongue inside me. My back bows away from the floor as a blissful heat consumes me. His forearm lays over my hips and pins me to the floor to keep me from moving. His tongue circles my clit, sucking. I need something to hold on to, to ground me because it feels as though he is ripping my very soul from me. It's as though the rapture has come and sucked me away from this earth and into another realm. I grab onto his head, scratching my fingers through his unruly hair. Never have I felt so wanted, so desired, so innocent as I do when I am in the hands of my absolution. I moan. I recite his name over and over, attempting to push against him and force his tongue deeper inside me, and then... he stops, and I feel like I've been tossed into the pit of hell. He rears up onto his knees, his wide smile sadistic like the devil's.

  I'm so undone I can't form words, and before I can even let out a single breath, he grabs onto me. With one swift movement, he flips me over. My chest slams against the floor with a thud. His firm hands hold my ankles and yank my legs apart for him to use me how he pleases, and I feel his body nestle between my thighs. I want to look at him, but when I attempt to glance over my shoulder, he pushes my face into the floor.

  "Don't fight it, little killer. You'll only make it worse."

  I don't want to fight this. I want whatever he can provide me; pain, denial, forgiveness. I would take anything from him. Because he makes me sin, and then he forgives me.

  He rubs his hand over my ass, groaning, and then that gentle movement is replaced with blinding pain. A loud clap echoes from the walls as the breath is knocked from me, my ass throbbing from where he spanked me. Ezra lightly brushes his hand over my pussy, and I lift my hips, begging him to touch me, to grant me release from the throbbing pressure building inside me. I want him inside me, I want him fucking me. I want to be his whore, his naughty vice, his little killer. The need I have is so great that I scream from pleasure when he plunges two fingers inside me, finger fucking me so deep his knuckles dig into me.

  "So fucking wet for me, sweetheart," he groans, pulling his fingers out.

  He chuckles as his slick fingers slide over my asshole. The good girl inside me whimpers and my demon laughs. This is dirty. This is sinful. That innocent part of me wants to pull away from him, but the disgusting whore inside of me won't allow it. The last time he put his fingers in my ass, I liked it. I wanted more. I wanted his cock in there because that would make me his dirty little slut.

  He grabs the back of my neck, squeezing. "I'm going to fuck your arse, Evie." He shoves his thumb in, hissing in a breath as he twists it in my asshole. An uninhibited moan escapes my lips and I press myself back against him, forcing his thumb deeper before he yanks it free.

  He slips his two fingers back inside my pussy and I clench around them. I choke on a groan, clawing at the hard floor in an attempt to stay grounded.

  Slowly, he spreads his hand out and buries his fingers harder into me as his thumb brushes over my ass again. There's slight pressure as he threatens to push his thumb back inside that filthy part of me. And oh, how I revel in that threat. I delight in how dirty that simple action makes me feel.

  I've spent my entire life trying to cleanse myself, trying to be pure, but with Ezra all I want to do is wallow in filth and squalor. His thumb presses against me, and he slips the very tip inside my ass only to pull it away. And I moan. His fingers dig into me. I slap at the floor, pushing my ass against him, demanding he take me. His heavy breaths blow over my low back, and he groans just before he slips his thumb in my ass up to the knuckle. Two fingers fuck me in the pussy, one finger fucks me in the ass, hard and fast. I feel like I'm shattering, being pulled apart at the seams. I'm sullied and tainted, all the while being worshiped by this man defiling my body.

  Ezra brutally fucks my body with his hand. The hold his other hand has on my neck tightens as he leans forward, pressing his bare chest against my back. "Who does this pussy belong to, Evie?" he asks, growling in my ear.

  "You," I say, moaning as I writhe under his hold.

  "And this." He pulls his thumb from my ass before pushing it deeper inside me. "Who does this belong to?"

  "You." I gasp, desperately. "My body is your temple."

  Ezra touches me in the darkest, most sinful of ways, dragging me willingly into the abyss of hell with every thrust of his hand. He's taking me to burn with him. The moment I feel the flames threatening to engulf me, just when my body trembles and my core clenches, he pulls away. I want to curse him, but I refuse. His teeth rip into my shoulder, sinking deep into my skin. The pain should tear me from the swath of pleasure instantly, but it doesn't, it drowns me in a form of wicked pleasure. Ezra's pleasure.

  "Ezra, please," I beg, not even sure what I'm pleading for. I want to come. I want him to hurt me. But all he's doing is teasing me with empty promises.

  He releases my neck, and grabs both my hips, yanking them against him. He grinds his cock against me, forcing me to feel the erection straining through his pants. "Is this what you want, Evie?"

  That is what I want. Every inch of it, buried deep inside of me.

  "Fuck me," I say, an edge of hysteria to my plea. I'm near tears and desperate. If he doesn’t grant me some form of release, I will kill him.

  "Oh, don't worry, little killer." His cock presses against me again causing my pussy to throb painfully. "I'll fuck you." He laughs.

  The metal of his belt buckle clinks, and that beautiful noise causes my heart to bang against my ribs. I'm salivating like a beast conditioned to that sound because it only ever brings to me the things I need.

  "Don’t fucking look at me, Evie," he warns, and even though I want nothing more than to disobey, I won't because he is right, he does own me. He can give to me, or he can take away. When I'm bad he takes, and when I'm good he gives. I want to be good.

  I feel heat between my legs and I hold my breath. Every last inch of my body is over sensitized and needy. I wait patiently. Quietly. Obediently. And then I feel his cock press against my pussy. I push against him, and he fills me. My muscles tense and I exhale from the instant relief. It's as though a prayer has just been answered. He is my heaven and he is my hell, and my body is his temple. A long moan slips past my lips followed by a string of pleas. I fight back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes because he is giving to me when I need it most.

  "You want my cock, Evie?" he asks, his accent making him sound more refined than someone like him should.

  "God, yes." He's making me take the Lord's name in vain.

  "This isn't about what you want," he says angrily then he slaps my ass with such force it feels more like a blow. The smack echoes from t
he walls. "This is your punishment."

  He pulls out of me, and I realize what he is doing. I fist my hair, tugging at it with anger. I feel lost and used. I want to hurt him because he is depriving me, not only of my pain and forgiveness, but from him. I collapse to the floor panting. The tears brimming at the edge of my eyes.

  Ezra rubs the head of his cock against my ass and I tense. "I'm going to fuck your tight little arse Evie, and then I'm going to come inside you. I will claim you, and I will own you because this..." he laughs, the pressure tremendous as he threatens to push into me, "...this is mine." He growls as he forces his way inside me. There's tearing and stinging and burning and fullness. I gasp and hiss at the pain, unable to catch a breath. Everything inside of me tenses, my nails scratch over the floorboards. I want to endure this pain because it is the only pain I will get from him right now. And I need it.

  "Take it," he says with a groan.

  I inhale several times and force myself to relax and accept his intrusion into my body. I feel him slip deeper, and I tense around him, coaxing a feral groan from his lips.

  "Good." He breathes heavily, his voice almost sounds drunk. "Good girl."

  He removes one of his hands from my hip, rubbing it over the small of my back. He pushes inside me deeper. I feel myself tear more, but I want to be good for him. I want this pain, so I push back against him, my stomach knotting from the way it feels to have him buried so deep inside me. Let him own you, Evelyn. Let him possess you.

  "Fuck!" He freezes and his cock twitches inside me. Slowly, he pulls all the way out, then forces his way back in.

  I slam my ass back into him, groaning at the uncomfortable feeling. I don't give him a chance to move, I tuck my hips away and then push back down around him again and again, fighting the tears away. Both his hands grab desperately at my hips. His fingers dig into my skin with each movement. I want to make him come. This pain is forgiveness, and it is pleasure, and if Ezra forgives me, then he will pleasure me more.

  He groans, squeezing my hips hard enough to bruise me as he stiffens behind me. There's a moment where all I can hear is my hammering pulse and his staggered breaths. "And now," he pants, kissing the back of my head as he pulls out, "you really are a dirty whore, sweetheart. My dirty little whore." Without another word, without another touch, he stands and walks away.

  I flip over on my back, my pussy throbbing and desperate for release. I hate him. I want to scream, but I bite that urge back. Anger and embarrassment and guilt slam through me.

  "You dirty little whore. You like it when I fuck you, because the only time you have the slightest bit of righteousness in you is when my dick is deep inside that worthless pussy of yours." Zachariah shoves my face into the pillow, holding me down as I fight against him. "Fight me, and I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk to the church to ask for forgiveness."

  I wanted to be something to Ezra, but I am nothing. I am a pathetic whore. Worthless. I am not worthy of God, I'm not worthy of love, I'm not worthy of anything besides being a vessel a man can use and toss to the side. It was foolish of me to believe that Ezra thought I was innocent, that he wanted me. All men are liars. My throat tightens and burns as I fight the emotions, the identity I don't want to own.

  You really are a dirty whore, sweet'art. I close my eyes and those tears I've been fighting for what feels like my entire life trickle down my cheeks.

  When I hear his footsteps over the floor, shame drowns me. I attempt to cover my face with my hands because he wants my tears, and I don't want him to know he has them. I try desperately to wipe them away from my cheeks before he sees them.

  "Don't hide from me, Evie," he says, grabbing my wrists and ripping my hands from my face. "Your tears are fucking beautiful."

  Never have I felt so stripped, so bare in front of a man before. Ever since I took my father's life, I've used men. And I've killed them for using me, but Ezra, he'll kill me long before I'll ever kill him. I have no control with him. He is a man I should hate, but I'm terrified I may love him. This need eating away at me for acceptance, the way I obsess over him, the way I want him regardless of the consequences... I am willing to go against my own instinct, to betray everything I've ever held sacred, and all for him.

  "Do you know why I do this to you?" he asks.

  I shake my head, because I'm afraid of what he'll say.

  Leaning toward my face, he wipes a tear from my chin, and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Because I want to see you break, little killer. And now, I own you, body and soul." His eyes focus on the tear rolling down my cheek. He smiles and trails his tongue over my tear. "Your tears are mine, and now, you are mine."

  A sinner and his sin.

  My breath hitches in my throat, my pulse threatening to burst through my chest. You covet what is yours. You protect what you own. He owns not only my body, but my soul, which means I am forgiven.

  I was broken when I was just eight years old. It made me stronger. It made me invincible. And finally, Evie has finally broken. Those elusive tears track down her face and her body trembles. I have watched countless whores break under the belt, screaming and begging me to stop before snapping. In some way, I own a piece of each one. But Evie's submission, her tears, they are the sweetest of them all because she cannot be broken through pain or force. She had to be mentally broken—she had to be destroyed. We must be broken before we can be fixed, and now, I will fix Evie because she is mine.

  I scoop her up off the floor and pull her against my chest. She presses her face into my neck, her tears wetting my skin. I let her fall apart. I want her to fall apart, and until now I had no idea how much I needed her to fall apart.

  I need her. I need to possess her because, for whatever reason, she is my weakness. And weaknesses must be controlled before they consume us.

  The icy air stings my face as I walk down the street. Jonty's at one side, Evie's at the other, and Dave's ahead, pissing on every lamp post, pile of trash, and sleeping homeless person he finds.

  Ideally, I don't want to be bringing Evie with me for this shit, but I can't leave her unsupervised, and the only person I trust with her is Jonty. But for this particular job, I need him.

  As soon as I round the corner, I see the kid huddled in a doorway. He's standing close to one of the whores as they make an exchange.

  These fucking dealers are like cockroaches, and the distributors who supply them are looking for any way in. My club runs whores. Whores do drugs, and a lot of the guys who fuck whores do drugs, ergo the place is like a fucking gold mine for that shit. And where there is demand, I will always supply. Drugs aren't my thing, too risky, but the family moves in those circles, so we have guys to run it. Guys from who we take a cut. These fuckers are pushing all sorts of dodgy crap and they sure as shit aren't cutting us in.

  I pull my gun from the waist of my jeans and click the safety. The guy's head jerks up like a spooked animal. His gaze swings to me and then he runs.

  "Stupid motherfuckers."

  "Well..." Jonty huffs.

  I glare at Jonty and whistle one sharp blow through my teeth. Dave takes off down the street. The only time he ever moves that fast.

  "Please don't let him get hurt," Evie whispers.

  I roll my eyes. "He's not a poodle, sweetheart."

  Evie chews on her bottom lip as she watches Dave charge the guy, jumping and hitting him in the back. The guy goes down, and Dave's teeth lock around the man's wrist, his head shaking from side to side as he unleashes a series of growls.

  The guy screams and tries to yank his arm away. I smile as I approach him. "The harder you fight him the deeper his teeth go," I say as I crouch down and pat his shoulder. "Best to relax."

  "Please," he whimpers. I say nothing for a long moment before clicking my fingers. Dave releases him but proceeds to stare and growl. "What do you want?" he asks, scrambling away from me.

  Jonty grabs the guy by the throat, pulls him to his feet, and drags him into the shadows of a nearby alleyway whe
re he pins him to the wall. His feet flail above the ground, his legs thrashing wildly as Jonty's forearm presses against his windpipe, cutting off his air supply. Dave stands behind us, pacing and snarling frantically. The taste of blood sends Dave into a frenzy; he'll be a nightmare for days now.

  I point to Dave and look at Evie. "Keep a hold of him." She grabs him by the collar and yanks him away. I step up beside Jonty, narrowing my eyes on the shitbag pinned against the wall. “I thought my message to DeCosta was clear the last time,” I say calmly. It couldn't have been any clearer. I sent him his dealers body back in a bag. A bin liner to be exact. “Do you know the effort I had to go to, cutting that fucker up? I ruined my favourite suit all to drive the point home, and now… now I find you here, which means I wasted my time, and I really fucking hate wasting my time.” I sigh. The guy continues to gasp and choke as his oxygen dwindles.

  “Enough,” I say.

  Jonty steps back and the guy's body falls to the floor, slumping against the wall. I bend down in front of him, my hands resting on my thighs. “I figure that sending him back a dead guy didn’t work." I press my hand over my mouth and shrug. "So, I guess I'll send him back a live messenger this time.”

  "Thank you," he gasps. "Thank you."

  I smile at his words. "Don't thank me yet. I said alive, not unharmed." I lean in closer to him. "There are some fates worse than death my friend," I whisper.

  His eyes go wide, all bravado slipping. I take out my pack of cigarettes and place one between my lips. "Left or right?" I ask.

  Ezra flips the top to his silver lighter open and the click echoes from the brick walls. There's a slight smirk on his face as he flicks the flint. The amber light from the flame lights his face up, making his dark eyes glint.

  And I want him so badly.

  He inhales a long drag, his eyes narrowing on the guy slumped against the wall as he blows a cloud of smoke in his direction.