Ceifador X: The Knight’s Rose Prequel

by Vice, Demi

  Stop.

  Her.

  Antonio.

  My breaths were harsh and primal as I tried my best to control my ugly and disgusting desires.

  “I can feel you under me. I know a man’s arousal is visible while women can be secretive.”

  Shut up, Bianca.

  She began to dry hump my full hard length, pressed tightly on the side of my thigh. Whimpered moans escaped her lips, leaving me with internal conflict and endless war. Her moans were soon replaced with muffled purrs as she sucked on my earlobe and ran her hand through my hair, tugging it hard. She found my weaknesses like she had a personal manual on how to destroy my body and make me hate myself for the rest of my life.

  My jaw ticked, my toes curled, and my cock pulsed under her.

  Antonio, I scolded myself.

  “Bianca, stop,” I moaned, but wasn’t on the same page. At this moment, my best idea was to drag her to her bedroom.

  “I like that you’re not delicate with me like everyone else. You hurt me, in a good way. Like you are now.” She barely got the words out.

  I was gripping her waist so tight, I felt my pulse in my fingertips. Bianca's moans got wilder, her hips got sloppier, and her heartbeat was so fast it made mine feel like it was a flatline. She was about to climax, and I wasn’t going to stop her. Not physically.

  “You need to stop, Bianca,” I growled through my teeth. She whimpered and shook her head. “Bianca, please,” I begged like a fucking dog.

  Two deadly words left her lips. “Make me.”

  My upper lip twitched with rage as my urges took over my hands. They went south. For such a small thing, she had more ass than I expected her to have. I tightly squeezed and helped Bianca achieve her climax, throwing her against my cock with force.

  She was too far gone. I was too far gone. And I wasn't a real monster to deny her an orgasm. Grabbing the nape of her neck, I pressed her forehead into mine.

  “If you’re going to come, you better keep those eyes on me, Bianca,” my voice, thick and dark. She was drunk with lust, eyes full of innocence and sin. The deadly duo. “Don’t look away. Understood?”

  Bianca inhaled my cold voice; her breath peachy and sweet.

  She nodded.

  “I want to hear your voice, Bianca. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” her voice full of corruption.

  My lips grazed hers for a split second. It wasn't a kiss, but the closest thing I had in years.

  Bianca got dumber with each second, getting closer to her orgasm. Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes crossed, and her mouth made the perfect O as she drooled just a little. It was probably the hottest thing I’d ever seen. A smart girl like Bianca, brains shutting down from just dry humping me.

  I thought about being inside of her. How wildly would she react? How loud would she moan and scream? How much would she cum all over my cock? I thought too much of what I couldn’t have, and my body separated. My brain, my heart, and my body were three individuals. Greedily wanting nothing, everything, and more from Bianca. My heart battled my brain, my brain battled my body, and my body battled my heart.

  They all lost.

  Bianca reached her climax. Her head rolled back, and she trembled under my touch. Her orgasm hit her hard until she went completely still in my arms. Her breathing became scarce, and it was all my doing.

  “In and out.” I inhaled and exhaled. “Boa menina. In and out. In and out. Dentro e fora.” I soothed her, teaching her to breathe once again and bringing her back to me.

  “I want more,” Bianca begged in a way I had never heard her beg. Like it was her final wish.

  My face fell when I thought of all that I just did.

  Spoiled her.

  Tainted her.

  Ruined her.

  Bianca would forever beg for more. Forever crave for more. Forever be obsessed with more. And one day, when I’m weak and broken, I’ll give her more.

  “What we did was more than enough to kill me a hundred times.” I meant every word. “You don’t know it, but what we just did was-was—” I stopped to take a deep breath. “It can never happen again, Bianca.” I grabbed her cheeks and offered her stern eyes.

  “I want you.” She didn’t hear a single word I said. “I want you inside—”

  “You don’t know what you want, Bianca! You’re just a child, and I’m a man.” The truth behind my words hit me like a shot in the chest.

  You’re going to Hell. Not just Hell, but Hell’s Hell.

  “I’m not a child, Antonio. I know what I want. Before I die, I want to—”

  “You’re not dying!” I snapped. She swallowed thickly, her eyes bouncing between mine. I moved closer to her lips, her sunken cheeks, and her bald head. “You’re not dying, Bianca.”

  “Talvez você seja ingênuo demais para entender,” she said.

  Perhaps you're too naive to understand.

  I was naive. I never thought about Bianca dying or leaving me forever. Even though every time I saw her, I saw her slowly inching away from me.

  “You’ll outlive me. You’ll meet a nice boy and you’ll date him, and marry him, and have children with him. You’ll do it all with him. Not me. Never me.” The words were poison on my lips.

  “I don’t want a nice boy, Neo. I want you.”

  “Because you don’t know better, garotinha. You don’t know that in a world full of men, I am the rottenest soul alive. And I’m never going to change.” I shook my head. “I’ll break you. I’ll bring you to my level, and I can’t have that. I need you innocent. To defy everything I stand for.”

  I held her in my dark trap, unsure if I meant a single word. I never wanted an innocent angel. And I never believed Bianca was that. She had two little horns hidden under her fake halo, and those two little horns of hers did more damage to my soul than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life.

  “It’ll always be you, Antonio. Always.” Lost in her sky; my own personal heaven, I knew she meant every word. Every. Painful. Word. “And I’m sorry to say, but I’m not innocent. I’ve been broken long before you came along, and we both know that.” My lips betrayed me, curling at the end.

  I loved it when Bianca was in my mind, but it had to stop.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, I was dangerously close to her lips once more. “Because what you are asking for is pain you never knew you wanted. Pain you’ll confuse as love.”

  It happened so fast.

  One second, I was breathing my own air, and the next I was breathing Bianca's. She’d stolen a kiss, and like the vicious animal I was, I returned it. I pulled her close, tasting the peaches that were far too sweet and young for a man like me.

  Our kiss wasn't intimate.

  It was unforgiving.

  Heart aching.

  Soul binding.

  It was as damaging as it could be.

  Mindlessly, I stood up, pressing her tight against me. I walked toward her bedroom, keeping one hand around her tiny waist and the other on the back of her head, pulling her close into my lips as I tasted and memorized hers.

  They weren’t too wet or dry, a little chapped but that made them more real. That made Bianca real. More alive. She had no idea what she was doing. She just wanted her lips on mine regardless of her lack of experience that turned me on more than it should’ve.

  “I want pain,” she moaned over my lips.

  My spine trembling with something I had never truly felt before.

  Weakness.

  “Shut up, Bianca.” I gritted, biting her bottom lip.

  “I want pain if I choose it.”

  “Cale-se.”

  Dropping her on her pink covers, my large body laid over her small one. Her legs still hugged my waist, and I never dared to separate from her warm touch. I choked both of her wrists above her head in one grip while my other hand went to her bare thigh, squeezing too hard.

  “I want you, Neo.” She winced from the pain. �
�Please, I want to feel—”

  “Shut up.” My voice, thick and animalistic, coated a layer of lust on her precious face. “Just for once, shut up and stop,” I demanded, but I never did.

  I kissed her violently, my tongue parting her lips, tasting the dose of peach on her tongue. I clawed up her thigh, goosebumps layered on her soft velvet skin. I ran my hand down, getting to her ass, feeling her soft cotton panties in my tight grip. I felt the wrongness all over my body, but Bianca’s moans trapped my morals.

  “Antonio,” Bianca purred. Her legs tight around my waist as she ground. “Antonio, please.”

  “Stop talking.” The words were like my grip on her body. Forceful. “Stop talking. Stop thinking. Just stop, Bianca,” I growled through a rough kiss that left my lips numb.

  Stop being too young, I thought.

  “Stop...”

  Being so forbidden.

  “Just stop…”

  Dying.

  The kiss was brutal and the longer it went on, the less I cared about the consequences. That was until she said the deadliest words alive.

  “I love you, Antonio.”

  It was then when my brain finally registered what I had done. What I was still doing. And what I wasn’t stopping until I finally did.

  I planted a long and final kiss on her lips before I stood tall at the edge of the bed. Pulling the hem of Bianca’s dress, I hid her exposed cotton white panties. She frantically sat on her feet, her neck strained as she looked up with worry.

  “I-I-I didn’t mean it—”

  “Can you close your eyes for me, gorgeous?” I asked calmly.

  The truth was, Bianca’s eyes always told me she loved me, but hearing the words out loud was far worse.

  “Why?”

  I smiled to reassure her to listen to my demands. “Close your eyes.” She swallowed, not yet falling for my trap that was sure to kill her. “Bianca,” I sternly begged.

  She shut her eyes, placing her shaky hands over them. “I don’t like this,” she said in a tone that hurt me all over.

  I quietly backed to her desk, replacing her journal with my lighter; her final present.

  “I’m just taking a present.”

  “My journal?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a few…” she paused. “About you, but I never wrote your name.”

  The shelf above her desk contained seven pink journals. Seven journals that were going to be the remains of Bianca Di Vaio when the time came.

  “Burn them.” My words were cold and distant.

  “What?” she snapped. Removing her hands, she spotted me with her journal tucked under my arm and my grip around the doorknob.

  She gulped with panic.

  I had seen pure fear in the eyes of hundreds of men, but seeing it in Bianca’s was torture itself. But I let myself be tortured. The pain wasn’t going to get better, and I’d be damned if I didn't see her one last time.

  Bianca inched toward the end of the bed and the white ottoman.

  “You step off the bed, and I’ll leave without saying a word.” My violent tone brought silent tears to Bianca’s face.

  “You’re leaving?” she sniffed. “Like, forever?”

  “It’s overdue.”

  She cried harder. “Is this because I told you I love you? Because I don’t. I don’t love you, Neo.”

  Gorgeous little liar.

  “I can’t give you what you want, and you can’t give me what I need.”

  “I don’t love you, Antonio!” she shouted as she stood up at the edge of her bed, her small fist to her side.

  “I’ve given you false hope for months, and for that, I’m sorry,” I said with no emotion. “I’ve been killing time and unwanted pain for months, but it’s over—”

  “Did you hear me? I said I don’t love you!”

  I flexed my jaw.

  She continued, “I swear I’ll never touch you or kiss you or ask for more. Whatever you want, I promise. I swear I’ll change, but please don’t leave me.” She hiccupped a cry. “I don’t love you, Antonio. I promise, just please, please, don't leave me.” Fat tears streamed down her cheek.

  All of my emotions morphed into one, making no sense of how I should feel. But I knew what I had to say.

  “I can’t leave someone I’ve never met,” I deadpanned. Bianca’s face shattered. “I was never here. I never met a girl named Bianca Di Vaio, and you never met a man named Antonio Castillo—”

  “STOP!” Bianca screamed at the top of her lungs.

  She stepped onto the ottoman, and I turned the doorknob. She read my threat as it was and stepped back onto the bed, defeatedly.

  “And just as you never met Antonio Castillo, you never received presents from Ceifador X—”

  Bianca fished her presents from her pocket and chucked them at me. They bounced off my body and landed on the carpet, stealing my attention. I thought about picking up my ring, even the bullet, but I wanted her to have them; forced to remember me. After all, they were selfish presents.

  “I don't want your stupid presents! I want your time...” Her anger fell to misery.

  “We never met.” My tone was grim as I addressed my ring.

  “But you kissed me.”

  My upper lip twitched as I met her eyes again. “We never met.”

  “But you kissed me back!” she argued.

  “It doesn’t fucking matter!” I snapped, throwing my fist in the door. “We will never happen. Can’t you fucking see that?”

  “I see that you can’t stay away from me. I see that you can’t not be around me. I see that you come back to me no matter what. Drunk or sober.”

  “Because I pity you,” I spat, my chest heaving. “Because you’re my boss’s dying daughter he never talks about. That’s the only reason why I can't stay away.”

  Part truth and part lie, I wasn’t sure which overpowered my vile words. And I didn’t want to know.

  “Liar.” She barely got out until her courage hit her temper. “You’re-you’re lying, Antonio!”

  “Think what you will. I don’t fucking care anymore.”

  I hesitated.

  I knew what had to be done next, but I let myself become weak, taking in the last time I was ever going to be inside Bianca’s room. I inhaled deeply, smelling what always chipped at my soul. Peaches.

  “I was never here. We never met.” My words were a promise, and I slammed the door to finalize it.

  Click, click, click.

  “NEO!” Bianca cried with so much pain in her voice it shattered my remaining heart. “COME BACK!” She banged on the door, and I took a step back, afraid that my frailty would get the best of me. “NEO!”

  She turned the doorknob repeatedly, trying to pull it with all her strength. There wasn’t much. I walked away and stopped at the top of the stairs. Shakenly inhaling and exhaling, I noticed my attire. I shoved my tie back in my jacket, fixed my cuffs, slapped the wrinkles out of my jacket, and styled my hair back. But I was still a fucking mess. Running my hand through my hair, I pulled on it to feel anything physical rather than emotional.

  I played the same tricks on myself as I had with Bianca. I knew what I felt, and I denied it all because I refused to accept what I wanted, but more importantly, who I wanted.

  “Please don’t leave me!” Bianca’s yell choked every fiber in my being.

  I bit the inside of my cheek until I bled. The longer I stared at her door, the more I heard her cries coming in crystal clear. I wanted to run to Bianca and hold her and kiss her. I wanted to tell her it was okay, but it wasn’t. Not even close.

  “Antonio!” Bianca sobbed.

  I took a step closer in her direction, instantly regretting it. Instead, I stormed toward the library door, stole another present, and left the place rid of Bianca’s and mine’s presence.

  “Antonio.” Her voice worn out and weak as she gave the door a final faint hit. “Please don’t leave me.”

  I held my weak breath hostage, but after a min
ute, I let myself take a breath I didn’t deserve.

  With each step I took, my heart sank deeper and deeper into the abyss that was my body. I didn’t know the meaning of a walking corpse until I hit the last step. Until I no longer heard her.

  Chapter Eight

  “Toni,” Lorenzo’s raspy voice filled the empty room as I fumbled inside. “Onde você esteve?”

  Seeing that it was four in the morning, I didn’t even know where to start with that question. I went everywhere that had sex, alcohol, drugs, music, and potential to get into a fight when I became suffocated with unwelcomed emotions. Memories were foggy like blurry images rather than video.

  I let out a painful grunt when I sat on the edge of Lorenzo’s mattress. Every part of my body ached, but nothing compared to my insides.

  Lorenzo loudly puffed air.

  Booze, blood, sweat, and puke, not mine, nor did it really matter whose it was, was what he finally smelled once he sat next to me. He turned on the lamp and forcefully pulled my face toward the light to see the damage.

  “Meu Deus, Antonio,” he exhaled in pain. He examined my swollen, bloody eye that was almost shut. “You need stitches,” he said as he touched my broken nose. I forcefully slapped his hand away.

  “I need sleep,” I spat, tasting the blood that still lingered in my mouth.

  I crawled under the warm blanket; fully dressed, shoes and all.

  Each movement induced torment. I tried to lay on my side, but my shoulder was still fucked up from when I dislocated it. I became as comfortable as I could on my back as I took calculated sore breaths.

  Lorenzo’s heavy sigh warned me that he was going to go into bullshit father-mode, but I wasn’t going to stop him.

  “What happened to you after you left the funeral, Antonio?”

  “Strip club, sex club, strip club, then Unterwelt,” I spoke plainly to the ceiling.

  Lorenzo shifted. I knew the face he threw my way, disappointed, so I didn’t dare to look.

  “You went to Unterwelt?”

  Unterwelt was a heavy metal underground club I used to go to religiously as a teen and needed to escape reality and enter a world full of metal heads, guitar riffs, mosh pits, and violence. Enough violence to get me arrested three times before I even turned eighteen. Lucky me, Lorenzo worked for an anonymous man who had enormous control and always got me off the hook. To this day, we both still had no clue who he was, but we called him Três.