Long fingers probe through my folds, the lewd sounds of my arousal making my cheeks heat, and then he pulls away to reach into the glove compartment. “Put your hands behind your back.”
I obey, disengaging from his neck while he drags a black satin ribbon out and shuts the door.
There’s a red stain on the corner of his mouth, and for a moment he looks positively unhinged.
Fear surges through me, mixed with a strange sense of excitement, and I lean forward to lick the blood from his lips.
It’s metallic and sweet, my essence mixed with cinnamon lip balm, and my pussy seems to ignite at the taste.
But he doesn’t give me what I really want.
I’mthree seconds from shooting my load inside my slacks and not finishing what I started here when Elena starts lapping at my mouth, sucking her own blood from my flesh like a goddamn siren in heat.
My dick is enraged, gorged beyond belief as she dry fucks me, the scent of her intoxicating little pussy making my vision blur.
I have to end this before I do something I regret. Something I can’t fucking take back.
Pulling the ribbon through my fingers, I take her wrists in my hands and knot the fabric around her joints, pinning them together in a way that won’t cause nerve damage.
Her chest rises and falls against mine, the lace of her bra where I tore the outfit scraping against my suit jacket with each breath.
Ensuring the knot is fastened, I lean forward, dragging my tongue along the bloody bite mark by her neck and relishing in how she shuddersintome and not away.
As if she too has sick, violent desires.
Of course, I already know she does. The bruises and cuts on her glorious skin hint at it, and the way she rode my lap while I tore into her proves it.
Still, that doesn’t change the facts. Doesn’t change the reality that I cannot have her, and certainly not like this.
Trailing my lips up to her ear, nipping the lobe so hard she squeals, I flick my tongue against her tragus. “Get the fuck off me.”
I haul her up and dump her into the seat next to me before she has a chance to protest, reveling in the gasp that tears from her chest. She maneuvers around, hands still bound behind her back, and glares at me. “You’re an asshole.”
Shrugging, I shift the car into drive and reach past her to once again open her door. “I tried to warn you.”
Sputtering, she shakes her head. “Aren’t you gonna untie me?”
“You’re a tough girl, remember?” I wink, keeping my foot on the brake pedal and moving to shove her out onto the sidewalk. She spills like a drunkard outside her home, drawing attention from people as they pass by to look at the Christmas decorations. “Figure it out yourself.”
A knockon my front door draws me from my security feed; very few people are aware that I own a house on Linden Street, the rest content to believe that a man dubbed Doctor Death by the rumor mill in every town he’s ever lived isn’t a resident within their city limits.
On the monitor, Elena assists her two younger sisters with decorating the large flocked Christmas tree in their foyer, while Rafael’s mother sits on the couch drinking a bottle of Chardonnay.
Grieving, I suppose, though I’ve never quite understood the concept. What’s the point in crying over a man who chose to live the life of a criminal? How can you delude yourself into believing there’s any other possible outcome for a made man?
Elena alternates between feeding lights around the tree to the middle child, Ariana, and nibbling on peanut butter fudge from a tray in the kitchen.
She’s barefoot on their hardwood floors, wearing skinny jeans and a T-shirt of some obscure band from long before she was even born, constantly checking over her shoulder as if she expects trouble to appear out of thin air.
Her naivety makes me chuckle.
Like she’d ever know I was there in the first place.
I can still smell her on my fingers, even though I’ve washed my hands until they bled. Can still feel her grinding on my cock, her wetness coating me, seeping into my flesh as she chased her release.