Chase

I can’t stop myself from holding her close. Don’t want to let go. Don’t want to stop smelling her delicious scents as I bury my nose in her hair.

This one girl has become my undoing … and I regret nothing.

My secrets are finally out in the open, and it feels freeing.

Empowering.

Because the worst has happened … and we’re both still here.

Even though she tried to hurt me, she couldn’t.

Her dropping that letter opener was all the proof I needed. She needs me just as much as I need her. Even though she probably hates herself for it, despises me for it, she can’t deny the power that I hold over her heart.

“I’ll take care of you,” I whisper. “I promise.”

“But you’re … a killer,” she replies.

I grab her chin and lift her head up. “But I’ll never, ever hurt you again. Do you believe me?”

She nods softly, but her pristine eyes are still filled with tears. She’s so pretty even when she cries. And I’m just … me, a vicious brute who revels in other people’s suffering.

But not hers.

Her pain ruins me. Makes me want to lash out. Makes me want to protect her, love her, kiss her.

So I do. I press my lips to hers, claiming her mouth, despite knowing full well that she hates me right now. I don’t care what the consequences are. I just want to give myself to her fully—without all the lies, without all the betrayal.

With her still in my arms, I back away into the bathroom, never taking my lips off her. She tastes too good, too sinful to stop. Even though we’re covered in blood and sweat, and our bodies are shaking from all the adrenaline pumping through our veins, I still can’t stop myself from wanting every single inch of her body.

Her mouth consumes me.

Twists my heart into a contorted mess until it contains nothing but love and devotion.

My kisses are frantic, hyper sexual, driven by the need to drown out the pain inside her mind.

And after a while, she even starts to kiss me back.

My fingers undo the zipper on her dress and pull it down, ripping it off her shoulders until it drops to the floor. I tear away her panties and lift her up, smacking us both against the wall as I kiss her senseless. Her naked body quivers against mine, goose bumps scattering as my mouth locks with hers.

Her legs wrap around my waist as I squeeze her ass and groan into her mouth. My tongue circles around hers, and I lick the roof of her mouth. But no matter how many times I kiss her, it’s never enough. I always want more of this beautiful creature I call mine.

When our lips momentarily unlatch to take a breath, I whisper, “Still afraid of me?”

Her swollen pink lips show a hint of a smile as she bites her bottom lip. “I …”

“You don’t have to answer,” I murmur, pressing sweet kisses onto her neck. “I already know the truth.”

She wants to fear me. Needs to hate me. But neither of those things are truly possible if you’re in love with someone. Even if she despises her own heart for falling so easily, it was inevitable.

My tongue leaves lavish licks on her neck and tits, and I take her nipple into my mouth and suck until it’s hard, then do the same to the other one, twisting them around my tongue until she moans.

“Tell me to stop,” I whisper, pressing my hard-on against her. “Tell me that I’m a monster and that you hate me.”

“I hate you,” she whispers through her moans. “Don’t stop.”

I grin as I twist her nipple until she squeals. “You’re going to regret that.”

With her ass still in the palms of my hands, I lift her up and bring her into the shower, turning it on. I don’t give a shit that I’m still dressed and that everything will get wet. I want her here—wet, wild, right now.

I place her down and take off the shirt sticking to my body. The water pours down on her face and washes away the blood. With a raging boner, I stay put, waiting for her to make a move, waiting for her to decide what to do. I lift my head and let the water cascade down on me, washing away my sins and every shred of evidence.

But none of it will ever get erased from her mind.

“I don’t want to force myself on you,” I say, licking the droplets of water off my lips, wishing I could lick hers instead.

“You aren’t,” she replies. “I’m letting you do this.”

Her hands touch my chest and alert all my senses. I look down at her, shocked at her fearlessness. Admiring her tenacity and ferocity.

Her hand slowly slides down my body, undoing the button of my pants, slowly forcing it down over my cock which bobs up and down when freed. I feel huge as I tower over her, but even as her hands wrap neatly around my dick, she’s not pulling back.

I groan as she moves her fingers right around the tip and back again, making me want to thrust. It’s so damn hard to hold back, but this is important. She needs to be the one to decide.

But she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hold back.

Keeps going until pre-cum drips out of my cock, until veins protrude the skin, until my balls tighten from her fondling me.

God, I want to fucking come so hard right now. I want to cover her with my cum and then some. I want to lick her, collar her, bite her, suck up the blood, and do it all over again.

I’m a sick bastard without remorse.

And despite knowing all that, she still wants me.

Both her hands wrap around my length and jerk me off until I’m about to burst. But then she goes to her knees and takes me into her mouth, sucking me off.

Fuck, it feels so good.

Her tongue circling around, saliva making it wet and hard, and I just want to thrust inside.

So I do. Each time a little more until she lets go completely and allows me to fuck her face.

Just like before, only this time it was her idea. Her needs above mine.

And I want to give it to her. Give her whatever she desires.

So I ask, “Is this what you want?”

She nods, moaning when I bury myself inside her.

Her eyes open wide even though she can’t see, but she knows how much I like to peer into her sparkling white eyes.

I can’t stop myself from grabbing her face and fucking her even harder. Hard enough to make the tears pop into her eyes and gargling sounds emerge from her throat.

But despite shoving my dick even farther down her throat, she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she parts her legs and begins to touch herself, flicking her clit until she trembles from lust.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say as I pull out to let her breathe.

But she refuses to say anything to deny me this.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” I say, lifting her chin.

She shakes her head. “I do.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Do you know why you feel the need to kill?”

“No,” I answer. “I just do.”

She licks her lips. “Then you understand why I don’t know the reason I need to feel you inside me.”

I nod. I finally understand. We both have our wicked needs. She just found her own when she met me. Maybe that’s why she’s struggled so much, hated me so much … because I brought out the worst in her.

But now she’s finally learning to accept that. Even though it shouldn’t, it makes perfect sense.

She … is perfect.

And when she opens her mouth, I don’t hold back. I shove right back in and hold her lips right where I want them to be, against my skin, with my tip bobbing against the back of her throat. She coughs and heaves when I pull back out, but her mouth is still wide open for me to claim, so I do. I thrust back inside with full force, taking all my pent-up adrenaline and rage from back in the forest out on her.

I know it’s wrong. But she likes it wrong. And she’s about to come.

Her whole body is shaking, sweating, her face turning red.

She’s so close, and she knows exactly where to touch herself to push herself over the edge.

So I bury myself deep inside her and growl, “Come.”

Her moans fill me with hunger, and as she comes, so do I.

My seed jets out onto her tongue, and she swallows it all down. I don’t even have to tell her … she’s that greedy for more.

When I pull out, I’m still hard, still turned on. I grab her arms and pull her up from the floor, smashing my lips on hers. I need to taste her and have every inch of her.

My hand instinctively finds its way to her sweet spot, sliding my fingers down her slit until she mewls in my mouth. Her nub is still swollen, still responding to my touch. I’m not the only one hungry for more.

I lift her up again, her legs clinging to my back as I push her against the wall and lower her onto my dick. We fuck, hard and fast, like animals in heat. Not even when I turn down the warmth of the shower can the water cool us down.

I cover her mouth with mine, sucking up her moans as I thrust deep inside her. I want to take from her until nothing’s left but a panting mess. And when our mouths unlatch, I can’t help myself from sinking my teeth into her shoulder until she cries out a mixture of pain and relief.

And I suck up the blood and lick her skin until she’s moaning again, and all the bunched-up frustration comes pouring out. We meld together in one feverish pool of lust, clinging to each other, desperately trying to get closer.

Her breathing is ragged, and her skin is red as I whisper into her ear, “Come for me. I want to feel you.”

Her pussy contracts around me, and she moans out loud from the orgasm.

Her muscles are milking me to the point where my balls tighten, and I explode. Roaring out loud, I come deep inside her, filling her up to the brim.

When we’re both finally sated, I let her down again and hug her tight as we finish our shower together. When we’re both dry, I take her to my room and lay down with her on the bed, wrapping my arm tightly around her.

“Hmm …”

“What is it?” I ask, taking in the scent of her hair.

“You’ve never brought me to your room before,” she says, smiling.

“I take it you like my bed then?”

“It’s very soft … and comfy … and warm,” she murmurs, turning around in my arms so she can snuggle into my chest. “I like it when you stop putting up barriers.”

“Hmm …” Now it’s my turn not to know what to say.

I admit, I have been putting up wall after wall just to keep her from getting more upset. But part of that was because of my own selfishness. My own inability to truly let her experience freedom is what makes her life so hard right now. And I feel guilty for putting all that on her. For making her stay.

Does she even want to? Especially after knowing what kind of a monster I really am?

“Can I ask you something?” she suddenly murmurs.

“Anything.”

“Who were those men in the woods? The ones you killed?”

I swallow and take a deep breath. “Graham’s men.”

She places a hand on my chest. “What were they doing there?”

“I went to Graham. I intended to kill him but failed.”

“So they came after you,” she says in a single breath.

I nod. “And most likely you too. Probably wanted you back in his claws.” My blood already begins to boil from the mere thought of him putting her back in the cage.

“But I’m with you now. I’m safe,” she mumbles, burying her face against me.

A glow spreads throughout my body, instantly replacing the building rage. I don’t know why she makes me feel the way I do, but I honestly want nothing more than to protect her.

“Thank you,” she says after a while.

“For what?”

I haven’t done anything good.

“For telling the truth,” she says.

“Oh.”

“And for trying to kill Graham,” she adds. “Did you go there because of me?”

I lick my lips and smile. “Yes. I wanted him to suffer for the pain he caused.” But I also wanted to know the facts. Something I can’t tell her because it’ll definitely kill her.

And as she turns around in my arms and curls back, I can’t help but stare at the walls ahead, wondering when … if I’m ever going to be courageous enough to tell her why I had to talk to him.

I don’t want to lose her.

But I fear I definitely will.