by LP Lovell
"I'm well aware," she says.
I run my fingers over her arm, pressing another kiss to her throat. "Will you play with us? Will you fuck me for Ezra?"
Using her thumb and index finger, she wipes her mouth. “I'd do anything for him." She glares at me, daring me as she smirks. She may think she would do anything, but I will kill for him.
She tips her drink back and polishes it off. I take the empty glass and set it on the counter before I grab hold of her hand, pulling it to my lips and sucking on her finger. “I think it would be a nice surprise for him if we go ahead and get started before he gets here. Don’t you?”
I lead her back to the bedroom, my skin buzzing with excitement. I turn to face her, immediately dropping my robe and exposing my naked body. Jen smiles and steps toward me, her gaze raking over my body. There’s a spark of excitement in her eyes, probably with the idea of pleasing Ezra. She would happily share him to please him, but I would never share him. I am his. He is mine. I love him. She simply covets him.
I brush a teasing finger over her arm before I grab the straps of her dress and tear them down her body. She gasps as the material falls from her chest, exposing the lace bra that's forcing her fake tits up underneath her chin. "Have you ever been with another woman," I ask.
"Only for Ezra." She smiles, biting down on her lip. Rage ignites inside me. There are so many things she has done for him that I haven't done, and I hate her.
“Strip for me,” I say, smiling seductively. I don’t want to simply kill her, I want to own her, the same way I own all of the wicked people I kill. She needs to worship me. She must see the light before she plummets into the depths of hell.
She slowly slips her dress off, then her black underwear. I step closer to her, brushing my mouth across hers as I caress her breast. Jen swipes her tongue over my bottom lip, and I place my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back onto Ezra’s bed, forcing her down onto the same sheets he fucked me on this morning. I grab her ankles and yank her to the edge of the bed. Her red hair splays across the sheets and I want to cut it off her head. I shove her thighs apart and I stare at her. Anger and jealousy well inside of me as I look at the filthy part of her that’s been wrapped around Ezra’s cock, on the part of her that has milked pleasure from him. I want to slit her fucking throat, but instead, I run a finger over her wet pussy before I step between her spread legs. I lean over her, licking across her hard nipple as I shove a finger inside her worthless pussy. She moans when I bite down on her breast. She wriggles on the bed when I insert another finger. I want to know what Ezra has had. Because when I saw her today... I imagined fucking her, over and over. I want to know what it is about this slut that has him wanting to fuck her because I can be better than her. I drop to my knees beside the bed, slowly raking my tongue over her slit before circling her swollen clit.
She groans and I stare up at her. “Do you like that?” I whisper over her sensitive skin. She nods and I lick her. I taste her. She doesn't taste like heaven. And when she’s fisting the sheets and moaning, I suck on her clit and finger fuck her until her pussy clamps down around my fingers. There is nothing to her. She is a cheap whore with cheap moans and a cheap pussy. He shouldn't be tempted by her. He shouldn’t want to fuck her when he has me.
I climb onto the bed and I kiss her, letting her lick her own sin and filth from my lips. Within moments she groping me. Her nails dig into my ass, and if I'm honest, I don't think she really cares if Ezra shows up or not. That's how cheap she is.
Her mouth is on me, gently licking over me. I imagine it’s Ezra’s tongue fucking me, his hands roaming over my body. And I arch my back and I moan. I can feel everything build in my stomach, my body wanting to go weightless from the flick of her tongue. She wants to take him from you, Evelyn. She wants him to own her and love her and she wants to make you cry. I let my hand drop to the side of the bed and feel beneath the mattress for the knife I stashed earlier.
"Do you love him?" I ask.
Jen glances up at me, her tongue flicking over my clit. "Yes."
I moan, riding her face as my fingers find the metal handle and I pull it out. I fist her hair with my other hand, my breathing falling ragged. My body tenses and my muscles clench from the pending orgasm. I take the blade and jab her in the back of the neck just as I find my release. Jen screams as I moan, as I come hard for her and Ezra.
She’s rolls onto her back, dazed. Blood spills out over the white sheets and I straddle her.
“He’s mine. Not yours. Mine,” I say as I slowly drag the knife across her throat. Without him, I am lost and I don't want to be lost. This is self-preservation. This is self-defense. This is love.
I drop my keys on the coffee table as soon as I walk through the door. Dave runs up to greet me, but Evie is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Jen. Jonny called me, so I know she came here twenty minutes ago, and I know she hasn't left. Why the fuck would she be here?
A low moan breaks the silence in the flat, and Dave's head cocks to the side, his ears perking up. I frown and listen as another long, breathy moan echoes down the hallway from the bedroom. Dave takes off down the hall. I clench my fist and grab the glock from the kitchen drawer. If Evie is fucking another guy, I'm going to kill him; then I'm going to kill her.
All I see is red as I turn the corner into the hallway. Dave paces outside the bedroom door and I signal him to go away, which he does begrudgingly. I count to three in my head before shoving the door open, gun raised, ready to make it rain blood. But I'm too late, because all I can see is blood, fucking everywhere.
My feet remained glued to the spot as I take in the scene. Evie is naked on the bed, her dark hair falling down her back. She's straddling Jen, a knife in her hand. Bright red stains the white sheets, the carpet, the walls, and even the ceiling. Evie leans down over Jen and their tits brush together.
"He's mine, not yours. Mine," Evie whispers and then she slashes her throat. Jen takes several staggered and gurgled breathes. Evie sits up, flicking her black hair behind her shoulder.
I clench my fists. I don't even know what to do here. Evie's naked and killing another naked chick. And it shouldn't be hot, but my dick is pressing against my fly because of her words: 'he's mine'. I shouldn't be such a fucking Neanderthal, but I am. And then there's the fact that, yet again, she has killed someone, and if the club wasn't bad enough, now she killed a girl I used to fuck in my own bed.
I storm towards her, and she jumps away from Jen's now completely lifeless body.
Evie disobeyed me, and by doing this, she is laying a claim, making a point, taking ownership. Endpoint, she disrespected me.
As I close the distance between us, her eyes drop to the floor like a child who knows they've done wrong. I bring my hand back and backhand her hard enough that my hand stings. She gasps, clutching her face. When her eyes meet mine, they're filled with tears, her expression that of a wounded animal. But she is not the innocent prey, she's the fucking predator.
Her lip is bleeding, her face still covered in a smattering of cuts and scratches, some deep enough that I had to stitch them.
"Ezra," she pleads.
I grab a handful of her hair and yank her head back, dragging her up against my body. Even through my shirt, I can feel her hard nipples pressing against my stomach. The truth is, she's insane. Yes, I'm spitting fucking mad that she just killed my ex-fuck doll... but I'm not. I'm so turned on I can't see straight, and this is why she's perfect for me, every messed up, beautifully insane, damaged inch of her.
There's a moment, a heartbeat of hesitation. "I distinctly remember telling you, no more killing," I say calmly, trembling.
Blood trickles from the corner of her split lip. Jen’s blood coat’s Evie's throat and chest and she's staring up at me with those big fucking blue eyes of hers. She looks just like the beautiful monster she is, and I fucking want her more than I have ever wanted anyone or anything in my life.
"You said you wanted to fuck her," she whispers. "So I took
away the temptation." My blood is hammering through my veins, my dick throbbing in my jeans.
I pull Evie against me, forcing her to stand before I grab Jen's ankle and drag her lifeless body across the bed. It hits the floor with a thud.
"Stand at the end of the bed. Spread your legs and grip the footboard," I instruct, brushing my lips over her bloodied mouth. She nods and stumbles to the end of the bed. "Do not look at me," I growl, unfastening my belt and pulling it through the loops.
Her breathing is erratic, her small body trembles. Fear? Excitement? Who knows with her.
I haven't taken a belt to anyone since the last time I hit her, and that was weeks ago. The belt should be a punishment, but she likes it far too much for that. I'm about to change that.
I drag the leather across my palm, smiling. This right here is power, and it's like a drug. I swing the belt back and bring it down across her back in a way that I haven't since I was fifteen years old. She screams as it lashes her skin, and I laugh.
"Is this forgiveness enough, little killer?"
I bring it down again, exerting every ounce of force into the swing, and, this time, the skin breaks, a thin line of blood blossoming through the split skin. She cries out, and her legs buckle, her grip loosening on the footboard.
"Stand up!"
Her knuckles turn white as she clings to the wood. I swing the belt again, using all my force, and another line of blood blossoms, crossing over the first. I hit her again and again until the blood coats her skin and my arm is weak.
"Please. Ezra!" she begs.
"Please, what?" I say, out of breath.
"Please," she whispers pitifully, her body shaking.
"Look at me, Evie." She turns to face me, her gaze is locked on the ground, her dark hair hanging over her face. "Look. At. Me."
She slowly lifts her eyes, and there they are, her tears glistening over her cheeks so fucking beautifully. Zee was right about one thing. She is beautiful when she cries.
"Are you sorry?" I ask.
"No." Her eyes drop back to the floor. "I didn't like that you wanted to fuck her."
There it is again, that possessive streak in her that makes me want to sink balls deep inside her.
I pull my shirt over my head unzip my jeans, pushing them down with my boxers. She watches my every move as I come around the bed and take a seat on the edge of it.
"Come here, Evie."
She slowly moves around the end of the bed until she's standing in front of me. Pink lashes from where the belt struck around her sides wrap around her torso.
I grab her hips and yank her toward me, my fingers digging into her sides as I slide my knee between her legs and part them. When I pull her again, she falls forward, her knees landing on the mattress, her legs spread either side of my thighs.
"I want to fuck you." I pull her into my lap, pressing my dick against her pussy. She bites her lip as her fingers cling to my shoulders. "You look so beautiful when you cry, Evie." She closes her eyes and another stray tear slowly rolls down her cheek. I lean forward and lick it from her face. "I love it when you cry for me."
Gripping the back of her neck, I drag her to me and slam my lips over hers. I taste her blood on my tongue when I dive inside her mouth. Her body presses against mine and her nails sink into my skin until I hiss.
She slowly lowers her warm pussy onto my cock, and I groan, wrapping my arms around her, holding her. She whimpers, and her back bows away from my hold. Blood slicks my arms as I trail my hands down to her arse, gripping it as I force her to ride me. She moves, sliding over me, throwing her head back.
"Look at me, Evie." I want to see her pain, her fear, her pleasure, and her devotion.
Her gaze lifts to mine, focusing on me as she continues to move over my cock. "Do you love me?" I ask.
"Yes." Tears build in her eyes again, and I want to own them. "I love you so much, Ezra," she says between deep breaths.
"Enough to kill for me?" I whisper as I cup her cheek, dragging my thumb over her bloodied lip and smearing it across her jaw.
"Yes." Her eyes are still locked intimately on mine.
She rides me harder, grinding over my dick, her arse pressing down on my balls. I roll my hips and meet her every thrust.
"I should punish you again just for putting fucking blood all over my bed—our bed." Her breath catches, and I skim my lips over her neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume mixed with the metallic twang of blood. My hands slip over her sides, blood still oozing from her back. I hope it scars her. I want to permanently mark her. I want her to remember this, to be reminded.
She drags her nails over my shoulder blades and tosses her head back. I duck my head and bite down on her nipple. A deep, satisfied moan slips from her lips because she gets off on pain. Her nails slice through my skin. And then she's coming, her pussy clenching around my cock like a vice. I grab her hips, pushing her to move faster, until I come inside her tight little pussy, moaning her name like the fucking prayers she's so fond of.
She presses her face into my shoulder, breathing heavily. I grab her waist, pick her up, and throw her down on the bed. She hisses when her back touches the sheets. I lean over her, my hand next to her head as I cup her pussy. She bucks away from my touch, and I smile before pushing two fingers inside her, feeling her wetness mixed with my come. She moans for me, and I pull my finger away before pressing it into her mouth. She sucks me, swirling her tongue around my finger like it's my cock, and I push my finger deeper until she gags. When I pull away from her lips, Evie reaches up and cups my jaw.
"Do you love me, now, Ezra?" she asks.
"No," I tell her. She flinches as though I physically slapped her, and I don't care, because no matter how fucking beautiful her blood-soaked body and her tear stained face are, she disobeyed me. "You're a monster, little killer," I whisper against her skin. A perfect monster.
If I were capable, I might love her. I crave her on a level that is nothing short of an obsession, but love is not for people like us. She should know that.
I've laid awake most of the night, tossing and turning. How pitiful is it to be so profoundly in love with a man that you forsake your religion, only to have him tell you he will never love you? Love is the one emotion I will never earn from him. He wants to own me, not love me. I have tarnished my soul. I have failed my sister. I have strayed. And all over a man who should be everything I hate, but has become everything I love.
The warm morning sun peeks through the window.
I must leave. I must be forgiven. I must right my sister. This life does not matter, but where I will go when I die does. Carefully, I slip out from beneath the comforter. Dave lifts his head and looks at me. His paws tap over the floor as he follows me to the bathroom. He stays with me, whimpering while I get dressed. When I make my way to the door he follows me, sits down at the door, and whines. If I leave him here, he will sit at the door and whine, and that will wake up Ezra.
"Come on then," I whisper as I open the door. And we leave. No one will follow me because Ezra is here to watch me.
There's only a block left before we reach the cathedral. I glance down at Dave trotting alongside me.
"He doesn't love me, Dave," I say. His ears perk up, and he stops, sitting down on the sidewalk. I kneel beside him and pet over his soft head. "I tried to make him. But he doesn't." His head cocks to the side and he pants. The bells in the tower ring out, and we resume walking to the church.
I watch the people pass by me. I see people who are happy, who have love, who have their faith. I see all the people whose lives are not the crumbling, decaying mess that mine is, and I hate them for it.
When I stop in front of the steep stairs, Dave halts, whining. "Come on," I say, and he reluctantly follows me up the steps. The familiar smell of wood polish nearly knocks me over when I step inside. I make my way to the altar, stopping to glance over at the confessional on the side wall. I've tried prayer, I've tried the penance of pain I was taught cleanses you, and I can
't help but wonder if maybe confessing my sins may help me find the peace I've been seeking.
You don't need penance, little killer.
Ezra has wriggled his way into my soul so deep, that even the voice of my little demon sounds like his. I'm unraveling fast, and I need something to stop me. This spiral leads to death and pain and punishment, and at one time that scared me, but now I crave it. I feel lost and saved at the same time. I no longer feel the need for penance. With Ezra there is always forgiveness. And that is blasphemy.
Blasphemy is unforgivable.
I open the small wooden door, and Dave walks inside, sitting in the corner and glancing back at me. I hesitate before stepping inside and taking a seat. When I sit straight up, the motion pulls at my tight, beaten skin and I have to lean forward to lessen the pain. The screen slides back, but the priest remains silent. In all my years with religion, I have never set foot inside a confessional. The way I was raised to believe, forgiveness never came by confessions, only blood.
I look at Dave, and he places his head on my lap, his big brown eyes staring up at me. His tail taps against the wood as he wags it. Dave is all I have. Dave and God. I close my eyes. I want to feel remorse, but I don't. I'm not sure what to do or say, so I think about all the movies I've watched where someone goes to confession. And I say what they say. "Father, forgive me for I have sinned.
"Go ahead my child. God's listening."
I hear footsteps outside the booth, and I fall silent. I don't want anyone else to hear these sins. I swallow. "I'm afraid I no longer believe... I..." I choke on a sob.