Five O'Clock Shadow: A Standalone Dark Romance (Snow and Ash)

by Heather Knight

  “You just said—”

  “You’re mine,” he says, grabbing me by the hair. “Get that through your head.” Then he flings me away.

  I rub my head. He’s really scaring me. It’s like he’s two people, and neither of them is someone you’d want to be alone in a room with.

  He wipes a hand down his face. “I should let you go. I know that, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He half laughs. He looks me up and down and shakes his head. “Like you’d understand.”

  My face flushes as my blood begins to boil. I’d like to kick him in the crotch. “Oh. Well, I guess I wouldn’t, being so feebleminded and all.”

  “Don’t get smart.”

  “Impossible for someone as stupid as me.”

  “I just—I have to get you out of my system.”

  “And then what happens?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubs his jaw and avoids my eyes.

  An arctic blast freezes me at the core. I slide my feet under me and swallow. “Then you kill me and…” I spot Charlie’s tail sticking out from under the bed.

  He starts. He flicks me a sideways glance and looks to the ceiling, the floor.

  That’s been his plan all along. My heart shrinks and my breaths come shallow and fast. I was dead the day the soldiers came to Charlotte. I just didn’t know it. I suck in my lips and drag the top layer of skin off. “How long do I have?”

  “Come on, Amelia. Cut that shit.”

  “How long does it take you to get tired of a girl before you kill her?” My heart’s beating so fast I think it’ll pop.

  "I’ve never done this, and I didn’t say anything about killing you.”

  “No. You said I wasn’t the first and I wouldn’t be the last. You said if I didn’t please you, you’d kill me. That’s what you said.”

  “I watched girls, fucked a few of them, but I never actually kept one. Before you, that is.”

  I nod, not really absorbing it. I can’t trust anything he says now. He’s unbalanced, probably some kind of crazy I would have learned about in high school or college. I take a deep breath and inspect my hands. From now on, no more laughter. No more pretending his touches mean anything but that he wants to get off. Never, ever tell him I love him. That seems to be important to him, and I’ll die before I give him that.

  “Is there anything else you want tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I lie down and turn my back to him.

  “You haven’t eaten anything,” he reminds me.

  “Not in the mood.” If I eat now, it’ll sit in my stomach like a rock.

  “Amelia, goddamn it!”

  “You should probably gag me. I scream a lot in my sleep.”

  After a moment he gets in bed behind me. I clutch a pillow to my chest as he secures the gag in place. Then he handcuffs our wrists together, and I flinch as our bodies touch.

  We lie like that for a long time. His stare bores a hole in the back of my head. What is he thinking? How to choke me to death, or how next to humiliate me?

  He pulls me closer and presses his lips to my ear. “I know you’re not stupid. You never would have lived this long if you were.”

  I’ll burn in hell before I acknowledge that one small concession.

  He kisses my hair. “You’re beautiful, and you’re a lot of amazing things. It’s me that’s fucked up.”

  This chokes me up, but I don’t make a sound. He can feel it, I know that, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of a single whimper.

  He pulls me tight against his body. “My name is Jackson Martell, and today is June 14, 2024.”

  I grit my teeth against my own weakness. So he told me his name. He still hurt me, and the bastard trapped me on my birthday. My nineteenth birthday! Am I cursed or something?

  Even if I get away from Charlotte, I have nowhere safe to go. I’d bet a closetful of food that if I went outside in full body armor, I’d still end up getting killed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jackson

  I don’t sleep much. I never leave a lot of room for regret, but last night, yeah. I feel it. All skin and ribs, my Amelia. She looks like she could break in half, and I sure did my best to do that. Shit.

  Trying to sleep is pointless. As gently as I can, I pull the key from between the mattress and box spring and undo the cuffs. My little dancer doesn’t move. Is she really asleep or is she pretending?

  After I take a piss, I wander into the kitchen and root through the ice box. The drip drawer is almost full, and I remove it to dump into the sink, but then I think better about it and dump it into a couple of pots. You never know when extra water might come in handy.

  I don’t know why they bother giving us ice, anyway. I mean, there’s an entire planet filled with ice just outside my door. All those nights Amelia spent huddled under her pile of blankets. She must feel like she’s in a tropical palace now.

  This apartment and job is absolute luxury compared to what the rest of the world has. Not only do I want to use this opportunity to better myself, but I can’t afford to lose what I already gained. Amelia’s influence on me isn’t good toward that goal, but I was a complete douche last night and I feel like shit. I ought to open that door and let her leave, but every time I think of her going anywhere, I get this burning “I have to have her” feeling. I don’t know why, but the idea of her leaving bothers me more than the idea of killing her.

  Let’s face it. I’m addicted to her. I couldn’t go two days without my little dancer. I should probably make up for what I did to her. Oh, and what I said to her? Definitely I need to do something nice.

  After cracking some eggs into the frying pan, I slice off a couple pieces of bread and hold them over the other burner with some tongs I find in one of the drawers.

  I hear Amelia pad into the bathroom. I don’t turn, but I mentally tick off what I think is enough time for her to take a piss and wash up. When she joins me in the kitchen, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I don’t know. I mean, I fucked her up the ass and told her she was less than nothing. Who knows? Maybe she’d do something drastic after that.

  She’s wrapped herself in a towel, and I suppress a smile as she takes a seat at the table. Does she really think that would stop me? She stares me down, no doubt challenging me to say something about her newfound modesty.

  I twist around and give her a wink. “You like eggs?”

  “Eggs are fine.” She scowls. I’ll bet I was supposed to react to her little rebellion.

  “Peanut butter on your toast or jelly?”

  Her lips part. “You have peanut butter and jelly?”

  I nod. “Those rich bastards thought of everything.”

  “No way!” She sucks in her lips, and they come out all pink and moist. Those lips, God, wrapped around my cock. I feel a chub coming on, and it makes me feel like a real jerk. I concentrate on sick stuff like maggots and rotting flesh until once again I’m respectably limp.

  I hand her a plate laden with eggs and toast—one peanut butter, the other apple jelly. She takes the dish and sets it down in front of her. She stares at the food as though she’s mentally tasting every bite. She picks up her fork like it’s a foreign object, and it hits me that she hasn’t had a civilized meal in years. If I have to rob the Arc myself, I’m going to feed her until she’s so fat she can’t move. That says a lot when you consider I’m not into big girls.

  “What’s funny?” She eyes me sideways.

  “I was just thinking about all that food stored away in the Arc. I only get the shit stuff. Imagine what those rich dudes are eating.”

  She sets her jaw. “I don’t care what they’re eating. I hope they choke on it.”

  “Come again?”

  “Look at all the people they could have saved. Instead they killed them all. If you ask me, they’re a bunch of criminals.”

  She takes small bites and chews slowly. She’s silent, reverent even, and I wonder if she’s afraid she’ll
never have such a fine meal again.

  “What’s your favorite food?” I ask.

  She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

  “Just curious. I know you won’t eat steak, and I probably can’t get that anyway. Any requests?”

  Her fork dangles over her dish, and she raises a brow. “Feeling guilty, are we?”

  I flush and clear my throat. I try to think of something to say, but I’ve got nothing. So I nod at the wall.

  “At least there’s that,” she mutters.

  We’re quiet as we chew our thoughts.

  “Strawberries,” she says finally. “Ice cream. Peaches. Pizza. Sushi, but I won’t eat it even if you find it, so don’t bother.”

  I sit up straighter. “Rice or potatoes?”

  She eyes the sack.

  Potatoes then.

  After we eat, I set our plates in the sink. I try to take her hand, but she pulls away. Anger tingles between my shoulder blades, but I kick it aside. Instead I guide her to the bathroom with a hand in the small of her back. I get the shower going while she brushes her teeth. We share a toothbrush, unfortunately, but since I plan on eating her out later, I really don’t see much point in being picky.

  We don’t have time for a fun shower, so I scrub her perfunctorily, and I have just enough time to scrub myself down before the water shuts off.

  “What, you’re not going to make me scrub your ass?”

  Kitten has claws after all. I choke back a laugh. “No time today.”

  She reaches for a towel, but I get it first.

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “I can’t help it. It’s who I am.” Instead of using it on myself, though, I catch her hair and squeeze out the drips. After I wipe down her shoulders and back, I take her right hand and massage her from her wrist up to her shoulder. I press a kiss into her pit, but she squirms away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “All of you is beautiful.”

  “Don’t,” she says, crossing her arms. “Girls are supposed to shave.”

  “Who says?” I admit it. I’m a hairy guy. I’m real fortunate it isn’t sprouting out my back. The idea of a furry snatch drives me wild, and a little underarm hair is, well, dirty as fuck. I could ball her based on that alone.

  “Everyone.” She doesn’t uncross her arms.

  I pull her close and gently run the towel under her chin. “The only opinion that matters is mine. Personally I find you sexy as hell.”

  I run the towel over her shoulders and over her crossed arms. The rough fabric scrapes against her breasts, and from the way her breathing changes, I know she likes it. She lets me smooth the cloth down her belly, around her back. When I kiss her shoulder, she sucks in her breath.

  But I’m not done. I rub her ass, making sure to draw the towel over her pussy in slow, steady sweeps, then down one leg, up the other before I drop the towel.

  “Turn around.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “Do it.” I use my angry voice, and she obeys me. God, that’s hot.

  Seizing her by the hips, I trace kisses up her legs, between her thighs, and around her bush. I bypass the sensitive areas entirely. I lick up to her belly button and back down again to the soft skin of her inner thighs. I repeat the process, getting closer to her pussy with every pass. When I trace my tongue just beside her lips, her belly tenses, but I skip over her clit and catch the other side of her folds. I circle her slit again, and this time I tap my tongue ever so lightly on her pussy.

  “Oh!” She arches into me and runs her fingers through my hair.

  I make several more passes, each time just barely flicking her clit, and without fail she tilts in to receive me.

  When I finally stop and run my tongue in rhythmic licks over her clit, she grits her teeth and grunts.

  “Shhhhh.” I breathe onto her pussy, and she sighs.

  “Lie down for me, little dancer.”

  I hold my breath, hoping she doesn’t regain her earlier rebellion, but she sinks to the floor and lies back. Her long dark hair spreads around her in a perfect frame.

  “Pull your knees up and spread your legs. That’s it.”

  Shit. I could come just looking at her.

  I stab my tongue into her slit, and she whimpers. Jesus, the way she tastes, it’s like heaven. I draw my tongue up between the lips of her cunt, and this time I work her clit like it’s my sole purpose in life.

  “Oh. Oh God. What are you doing to me?” Her breath hitches, and she spreads herself wider.

  “I’m eating your pussy.”

  She’s literally soaked, and I push my finger into her and find that spongy place just inside. I insert another, and she rocks her hips up to meet my gentle thrusts.

  I use my lips and tongue to bring her to the brink, and just as she begins to shudder, I draw back.

  “No! No, don’t stop!”

  “Relax,” I tell her. “You’ll come. Just not yet.”

  I repeat the whole deal, fingering her cunt, sucking and licking her clit until I feel her draw in a gasp. I pull away.

  “Fuck. Oh God, Jackson, please!”

  My name on her lips. Shit. If my dick gets any harder, I’ll pop a vein.

  “I’ll let you come.”

  “Please!”

  “But you have to tell me you love me.”

  She grits her teeth, but before she can get brave enough to abandon me, I shove my fingers in her again and massage her in that spot I know will get her off. It gets all women off. A slut I knew back in college taught me all about it. I clamp down on her clit and suck.

  She fists her hands and arches her back. She literally grinds her teeth. I tongue her with slow, steady rhythm until she moans. Then I slide my fingers a little deeper, apply slightly more pressure, and my little dancer’s mouth falls open. My cock twitches as her hands relax and her hips rock in rhythm with my tongue. Her juices flood my hand, and all I want to do is shove her full of my meat, but I can’t. Not yet. I bring her to the brink and stop.

  “Please, Jackson, please!”

  I press my fingers ever so slightly.

  Her thighs quiver. “I need you. I need to come. Please help me!”

  “You know what you have to do.”

  She twists her face in a grimace and tightens her fists. I know she’s close. Really close. I attack her clit like it’s the enemy. I literally fuck it with my tongue. She seems to like it when I hum against her clit because she pants like she’s just jumped into ice water. It’s when I give her a nice, long suck that she clenches her thighs around my head and shrieks, “Oh God. Oh God! I love you, oh God, I love you!”

  A drop of cum drips from the head of my cock as her whole body convulses. She clasps her hands over her mouth, stifling her scream. My silent girl screams. Her thighs clamp around my head, and she bucks her hips like she’s trying to ride my tongue.

  Eventually her cries grow silent, and she pants as she relaxes her legs and throws a hand over her dazed eyes.

  I flip her over onto her stomach and pull her onto her knees. I waste no time finding her pussy. Positioning my cock, I stab home.

  With a moan she pushes back against me and bows her head to the carpet. It’s too much. I want to be gentle, but she’s so incredibly tight. Her pussy squeezes my cock, and she’s such a slut, she’s so abandoned. I pump her like the crazy man I am, and I know I’m not going to last long enough to bring her to another orgasm. I want to, though, so I reach around and rub her tits. I tweak her nipples and run a hand down to her pussy. I rub her, not knowing if I’m hurting her or giving her pleasure because I’m so lost in lust that I almost don’t care anymore. She comes all over my cock and bites into the towel. The cry that rips out of her throat is heaven, pure heaven, and my balls tighten. Shit, I wanted to last but—

  “Jesus! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh yeah, take it!” I shoot the biggest load of my life into her cunt as wave after wave hits me. Each squirt is ecstasy, and I shudder over her, still rocking my hips until I have noth
ing left. Nothing.

  When I can breathe again, I wrap my arms around her belly and pull her to the floor.

  She’s stares at me with this blurry, stunned look on her face.

  I catch her lips in a kiss and draw her body fully against mine.

  “Tell me you love me,” I whisper. “If you tell me you love me, I’ll make you come so hard you scream.”

  She groans. Her eyelids flutter, and she tosses an arm over me and plays with my chest hair. “What have you done to me?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Amelia

  I can’t believe I caved. I told that sicko I loved him. In my defense, I was out of my mind at the time. Holy cow. Who knew it could be like that? I mean, part of me can’t wait till he gets home so we can do it again.

  I’ll say whatever the hell he wants if it means feeling like that. It erased everything from my mind until the only thing that mattered was cock. Maybe that makes me a slut, but I haven’t had a whole lot of pleasure in my life.

  Today he handcuffed only one hand, and it’s to the last bar on the headboard, which means I can get up if I want to. This is huge.

  I spend my morning stretching, doing pliés, anything I can manage in this limited space. After lying still for so long, moving feels incredibly good. With Jackson gone, Charlie emerges. I tear strips of paper from the tablet I find in the nightstand drawer, and Charlie spends the morning chasing them. He gets bored after a bit, though, and lies down for a nap.

  Now what? I root around in that drawer of his and find a pencil. It’s better than nothing, and I write a story about a psycho who preys on women. This gives me no end of satisfaction, and I consider whether to chop his dick off or just go ahead and kill him. I set aside the story until I can make up my mind.

  I’ve had plenty of low moments in my life. Trust me, last night wasn’t the lowest. I just didn’t expect it. Nothing quite like having a big dick shoved in your butt and told you’re a feebleminded gutter slut. I squeeze my toes just at the memory.

  I get it; I’m not educated. I know lots of useful things like how to throw a knife and how to shoot a crossbow. I can kill and spit a rodent like no one’s business. I can get in and out of any building without making a single noise, and I can make an effective water filter out of just about anything. But science? Math? History?