Page 68 of Executing Malice
I wouldn’t have had to if she hadn’t tried to push me away. I wouldn’t have had to if she hadn’t tried to hurt me by falling into another man’s arms. If today hadn’t happened, she would have been awake for her next gift. I would have made her enjoy it. I even would have let her pick it out. But she hurt me. Again. What am I supposed to do?
Leaving her where she’s sleeping peacefully, I head into the bathroom to wash up before returning to my crawlspace to begin the preparation. I grab my tools. Wash my hands again. I return to her only when I am fully prepared to finish the task.
Careful not to hurt her, I gingerly turn her over onto her back. My fingers brush up the hem of her T-shirt and hook into the elastic band of her shorts. With great care, I drag them down her legs.
The warm gold of the lamplight, the cold dance of motion from the screen paint over the flawless lines of her body. It’s been so long since I’ve had her like this. A whole day. Might as well be years. Months of torment. I almost forget my purpose as I study the sweet, slick folds I’m aching to taste. I even further my own torture by rolling up her top, bunching it over her tits so she’s perfectlydisplayed for me.
Focus. You’re not here for this,my brain reminds me as I slide my palms up both thighs in the direction of her warm cunt.
My brain is right. I need to get this job done.
I spent three years preparing myself for this moment. Three years of training and practicing. Getting myself good enough to give her this gift. Like everything else, it’s meant to prove my undying devotion. It’s not flowers that will die and rot. It’s not chocolates that will get consumed and forgotten. My gifts are eternal. They are devoted symbols of just how far I am willing to go to prove my love to her.
She hasn’t seen it yet. It hasn’t become clear, but once she sees it, once she recognizes that I am giving her everything she wants, she’ll be so happy. She’ll thank me. She’ll forgive me for refusing to show her my face. She’ll understand once the week is over. It will all make sense. She just needs to be patient with me a little longer.
I practically tremble with anticipation for that day. for the moment she realizes who I am. Who we are. I’m practically giddy with excitement as I start the preparation. I get her and the area prepped. I’m quick and diligent in my process. I keep my hand steady as I work. As I ink my mark into the sweet, soft tissue of her inner thigh. Not too big, although I am half tempted to cover her entire leg so no one ever misses it. It’s justenough that it’s visible when her legs are spread wide, her hole open and exposed. It’s a clear reminder of who owns her. Who she belongs to.
When I’m done, when I have properly cleaned her up and wrapped her first tattoo, I lick her.
I grip her knees wide and sweep my tongue over her opening and up between her lips. I flick the nub speared through with my bar until my sweet madness begins to shift in her sleep. Her hips writhe beneath me. Her head falls back with her delicious moan. Her back arches, offering me her generous mounds. The light catches on the steel bars, drawing my hands to them.
Even in her slumber, Leila digs her heels into the blankets and lifts herself to me. She rises and falls with every pass I make.
She sobs with the first pinch of her nipples. The first tug. Her fingers fist into the blankets beneath her, doing nothing to stop me as I get her to where I want her.
Right on the edge. Toes over. So close we can both taste it. I get her to the cusp and only when she tenses, thighs trembling, muscles coiled do I pull back. I push to my knees, hands at my fastens. I free my cock and kneel over her.
Without taking my eyes off her beautiful, flushed face, I cork her. I plug her unprotected hole with my magic cross while thumbing her slippery clit with the pad of my left thumb.
I make her cum.
She has no choice.
I want her body to welcome my seed in. I want her to milk me. The flex and suckle of her channel feels like heaven around my head. I can’t wait to feel her cum with every piercing pounding inside her. But I take this for now. I let her squeeze and massage while I fill her.
I stay in place even after she’s gone still. I want every drop to find their home, if they haven’t already. I only just started filling her the other night after her nightmare, but I would be surprised if she isn’t already pregnant. The birth control she’s been diligently taking every morning haven’t been her pills in over three weeks. It’s amazing how sugar pills look the same. I wanted that shit out of her system when I started breeding her.
Satisfied I’ve given her enough time, I pull out. My cock is stuffed back into my pants before I pull the blankets around her and gather her up into my arms. I hold her close asMyerscontinues his murderous rampage.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LEILA
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Brain fog has me struggling to pinpoint my location the next morning. It pangs in protest with my first attempt at prying my eyelids open. Tears blur my vision as my retinas are burned to nothing under the glare of the sunlight.
I groan and shift, trying to adjust the heavy weight of my body away from the punishment only to have every joint and muscle resist. Knots seize along my spine and across my shoulders. My neck twinges. And I cease my attempts. I get the message. I need to simply lie here until I die.
But my resilience refuses to submit and I’m trying again to open my eyes. I’m struggling to push up. Apparently, some part of me really wants to start the day, no matter the agony.
How much had I drunk last night? I remember one glass, but the way my throat is raw and my head is pounding, it must have been an entire case.
Biker douche.
It’s his fault.
I whimper and dig the heel of my hand into the spot between my throbbing eyes and push up on the slab of rock I was sleeping on.
