Page 11 of Perfect Martinis

Each man has an identical bullet hole in his head.

My vision swims as I try to stand, in case whoever this is wants to kill me too.

I don't want to die like this.

A shadow looms over me and Jeong-Ki is there, though hazy.

"Jagi," he says, looking me over. "It's okay. You're safe now. I've got you.”

Chapter Six

Jeong-Ki

Moriah passes out in my bed the moment I lay her down. Her face is streaked with tears, her clothes under my coat, which I wrapped her in, are mere rags. I can’t leave her like this, but even when I shout she doesn’t properly wake. Just whines and turns onto her back, making my coat fall away. The drugs they slipped her combined with the trauma are taking effect.

I need to take samples of whatever the men left in her too. I can’t take her to the hospital for a rape kit, because I’d have to file an official report, and that could incriminate her.

Despite my orders, despite what she thinks, despite what my boss thinks … I can’t send her to jail. I can’t do that to her. What she said the other night, about never being able to be in control, about dealing with devils … it stuck with me.

When did I ever have control? When have I ever not been dealing with devils?

Moriah and I are too much alike. No one should go through what we have been through. Ever. And yet…

I have to protect her. Job be damned.

I roll her off my coat and toss it behind me as I go into the bathroom to get something to clean her up.

First I cut the filthy, torn clothes off of her and toss them aside. She can wear one of my t-shirts.

The dirt and dust from the floor wipe off easy enough.

I cringe at the sticky come leaking from inside her, stuck to her thighs. Not only do I hate that she was violated, I hate that another man touched her. That should be me and only me.

Only I can mark her as mine. Now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t let her go, can’t let anyone else have her.

She’s mine.

And deep down, she knows it too.

I clean her quickly, leaving the washcloth as evidence.

I adjust myself in my jeans; I’ve been shamefully half hard since I was in that shady apartment and heard Moriah’s cries. Now, touching her, having her vulnerable in my home, my jeans are starting to get painful.

Gently, I lean over her and run my fingers along her slit. Her hips shift, as if somewhere in her sleep, she can still feel me. I rub a little, enough to make her start to get wet, before I start to strip off.

This isn’t wrong.

She’s mine. Her body knows it.

Suspended over her, I kiss her face, then her neck, then take her nipple in my mouth, while I gently begin to push inside her.

Her little whimper as she seems to feel me enter makes me almost ready to come like I’m a teenager. I hold myself still for a moment, then move more, watching her peaceful, sleeping face.

Her body lets me in, lets me have her, and she is all I want. All I need.

And then her eyes flutter open. Still dazed, but awake.

“JK?”

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