Page 24 of Ruin

I fucking hate myself.

“Use your mouth,” I demand, chest rising and falling raggedly.

He lifts up onto his knees, parted lips shining with saliva, I swallow hard as his mouth suctions over my tip. My hips buck forward uncontrollably, my hand finding his choppy hair, fisting it at the root. I thrust into his mouth, his throat tightening around my length as he swallows around me. There’s no noise, no gagging, nothing but the pounding of my pulse buzzing in my ears. His hands claw at my thighs, shoving my trousers and boxers down to my ankles. His fingers run up my legs, gouging into the backs of my thighs, holding onto me as I fuck his face.

“Such a dirty boy,” I whisper cuttingly, “always coming to me when you need to let go. Pathetic,” I grit out, tightening my hold in his hair, thrusting farther into his mouth. “Always fucking up,” another thrust. “You’re a worthless piece of shit, aren’t you?” I spit at him, teeth gritted so hard my jaw cracks. “Answer me!” I bellow, his hips rocking in time with my own. “Speak.”

He mumbles around my cock, attempting to nod his head in my hold, his fingers driving deeper into my thighs.

“So sad,” I whisper, pouting my bottom lip, his eyes directed up on mine, shining with tears as my cock hammers into his throat. “Such a sad, lonely boy that nobody wants.” He sucks me harder into the back of his throat, a hiss escaping my teeth. “Poor baby Charlie having to come to me.” Saliva drips down his chin, “Must be desperate, huh?” his mouth slurps loudly on my cock. “What did you do,Malysh?” I hum, my balls drawing up as he sucks me even deeper, my eyes practically roll, but neither one of us breaks eye contact. “Who did that to your face?” I ask, brushing my finger over the bloody mark raking down his eye.

His teeth dig in a little on the next pull into his throat, scraping gently down my length and my eyes nearly roll.

“You’re not going to say it?” I mock, a brow arching high on my forehead, “Not going to tell me about the poor little boy you must’ve made cry?” at that, he bites down sharply, a breath sucking in through my teeth. “Is your mouth too full, lover? Jaw aching?” I tease with a smirk even as my muscles start to tighten.

I thrust harder into his mouth, tears dragging down his cheeks, breath held, his nails break skin, and I fucking explode. Coming, hands tight on the sides of his head, his nose flush with my pelvis, I pump thick ropes of cum down his throat, my cock pulsing and kicking between his sharp teeth. I feel the moment he goes to bite, finally wanting to breathe, I thrust in once more, a smirk on my face at his wet cheeks, the snarl in his top lip, hatred in his eyes. But, above all else, the lust in them, something more, meaningful, forbidden. It hurts something buried deep inside of me, hidden beneath layers of denial, fear, and I tear my dick free in panic, his teeth scraping aggressively along my length as I tear my cock out from between his lips.

The back of my hand cracks across his cheek, knocking his head to the side, my knuckles burning, his white hair flying across his scratched face. He breathes hard, his back rising and falling, my own chest heaving. I pull up my trousers, tuck myself away, rethread my belt, straighten and tuck in my shirt.

Without looking at him, I sniff hard, then step around his still kneeling form, eyes on the door, I wrench it open and walk away.

And it’s one of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to do.

Chapter13

Charlie

She startles when I enter. Dragging a wailing man her way, throwing him to the ground beside her bars. Her neck chain still bound around the gate of her cage, not tampered with, and my cock weeps instantly. Knowing she hasn’t tried to escape.

Here.

Me.

The man begs for life at my feet, clawing at my lower jean clad legs. Irritation spikes, yet I do not take my gaze from hers. Big blue orbs, sapphire ringed in dark honey brown, keep me locked in, obsessively, even as my foot collides with the disgusting man’s jaw, the bone audibly snapping, his whimpering ruining the quiet. Even now, her gaze does not stray, there is no fear, no wince, even after what I have done to her. It makes my insides curl in on themselves, rib bones bowing into my heart, the blackened thing leaking tar, thick sludge seeping into my bloodstream.

But I do not feel guilt.

I liked it.

Fucking her.

I feel alive with her eyes on me. My cock kicking hard in my jeans, her blood, her scent, all still present on my dick. And with the taste of Kazimir on my tongue, his salt in my throat, my reddened cheek still glowing and hot from his assault. I find I am unable to focus on any singular thing, but this.

Violence.

It is what I am oh so very good at.

I am unsure what happens next, my movements unconscious, but when I finally take a full breath, head clearing marginally from the red mist of rage. Blood coats my hands, slick up to my elbows as I continue to tear out his intestines. Coils of them dragging over my thighs, my posture relaxed as I sit on my haunches, knees flush with the man’s ribs. His head is turned to the side, eyes still on me, a slow, watery blink, the light now finally leaving him as I rip the last of them free, severing their attachment.

The stretched lengths of them are strewn across my lap, trailing on the floor at my sides, my hands still plunge back inside his open belly. I feel my way around, plucking out pieces, severing connections and ties, veins and fat and oozing pieces of flesh fill my hands and I discard them to the floor.

My dick is painfully hard, knowing she is there, at my back, watching me through the iron bars of her cage. Her chain rattling briefly every so often, the only sound strong enough to have me glancing back.

Over my shoulder, she stares at me, tiny, scarred hands curled around the cold bars, her naked body bloody, bruised, my fingerprints purpling her flesh. A possessive thread of ownership ripples through me at the sight.

Tongue sweeping over my bottom lip, I bite down on the inside of my cheek, cock kicking, chin on my shoulder, her gaunt but pretty face pressed up against the bars. She watches attentively, aptly, my heart thudding loud in my ears, I feel dizzy, the way her eyes graze down me, my seated position, bare spine, jean covered arse, booted feet. She blinks rapidly, those thick, black lashes fluttering over high prominent cheekbones. And then she lifts her eyes, locking them with mine, a ghost of a shy smile on those cracked, dry lips.

I drop the organ in my hand, the thud-squelch of it loud on the wet concrete at my side. My legs unfold, body lifting from the hard ground with barely any effort at all. It is as though I drift in her direction, compelled by those addictive eyes. If I could pop them out, keep them in a jar, I am not sure I would ever leave this room.

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