Page 92 of Six
“What’s this, ah? Isn’t this a live show as well?” Lenny barks, glancing at the glass wall.
I tighten my grip in Lenny’s hair. “Live?” I thought they were recording it, to sell it on the internet.
“You don’t know shit!” He sneers at my shocked expression. And I deliver two quick hard punches right in his stomach, making him bend forward and gag.
“We will after you talk,” Linda says from behind the wall.
I fist his hair and roughly shove him against the back of the chair. Lenny’s lips quiver as he pants.
“You don’t fucking know what you are up against,” he scoffs. “You think this is only about live beatings? Clueless freaks. I don’t know who you are.” His eyes dart to Rague and then Rami. “But the Phoenix is going to crush you all.” His bloody smile disappears the next instant, replaced by terrifying shock.
Staring straight at Lenny, Rague yanks the knife out of the other donor’s shoulder and drives it from above into his head.
I hear some enthusiastic clapping from behind me, but my gaze is fixed on Rague. On his face, which lacks any kind of remorse or guilt, the slow rise and fall of his wide chest, his bloody hands, and the huge bulge in his pants. A sudden throb of arousal pulses through me, tightening my groin. Is it nuts that I feel the carnal urge to climb Rague like a tree after watching what he’s done? Am I sick in the head? I am. I know I am. There’s something wrong with me, I’ve known it for years. But if this is one of the things that makes Rague and me right for each other, so be it. I don’t give a fuck.
“Your turn.” Rague points the handsaw he has yet to use at Lenny. He closes the distance between them, then swings the serrated blade down, sinking the sharp small teeth into Lenny’s knee.
His cry is loud and followed by curses. And I punch him once again in the stomach to make him stop. The forward jerk of his body jolts the handsaw stuck in his leg, and more blood rolls down his calf dripping on the pink plastic covering the floor.
“Carl Manner, Paul Cleeve, Gene Alvin Sloan, George Fallon, Sebastian Tom Jenkins, Fredrick Cole and James Ian Patterson. Those are the names of the seven boys you hurt and killed. They and Sully are the reason why you’re here.”Rague remembers all of their names?
“Who’s the Phoenix? How do you contact him? What else do you do for him?”
“Fuck you, Oliver! Fuck all of you! I won’t say a damn word to any of you crazy fucks,” he screams, spit flying from his mouth, sweat coming down his reddening face. I can see the desperation hiding behind the anger. He’s scared shitless. But who wouldn’t be, knowing that the end is near and that it won’t be painless?
“Did you enjoy pounding defenseless boys?” Rague says menacingly, pushing the blade deeper into the flesh. Lenny screams while tears start to fall.
“Hearing them beg? Watching the light die in their eyes?” More blood flows.
“It was…just…business.” Lenny’s voice has turned into a plead. He’s a shrieking mess, pathetic and weak.
“You’re lying.” Rague yanks the saw from Lenny’s leg, wrenching a piercing cry out of the fucker’s chest, and then he grabs an axe and drops it down chopping Lenny's hand right off. One breath of deafening silence, then the high-pitched shrieks Lenny lets out are dripping with shock and pain.
I’m taken aback by the off-with-the-hand part as well, but even more by what I’m feeling. Out of the corner of my eye I see a bloody hand on the pink floor, but my focus is entirely on my merciless, hot boyfriend.
“You enjoyed thebusinessand it led you to an atrocious death.” Rague’s cold, rumbly voice fills me with morelust, and I feel my revenge slipping away, replaced by crude, visceral want.
Gabe suddenly appears near us. “Let Uri work on him.”
Rague grunts in disagreement.
“If the shithead knows something he’ll sing like a canary with him. Uri is a master in the art of pain.” Is he? I turn to look at him through the glass. His long dreads and numerous piercings don’t scream pain inflictor to me.
“I can do that too,” Rague tells his brother. Gabe glances at me with a silent request, and I’m only happy to oblige.
Anchor time.I drop the brass knuckles and grab Rague’s arm. When he lowers his gaze on me, I show him the painful need I have for him, knowing he can’t resist that. “I’m done.”
He studies my eyes for a second, then grabs my hand and drags me to a door on the left, hidden behind the plastic. It’s a bathroom, with four showers a large rectangular sink, and shelves covered in cleaning products.
Rague’s big body pushes me inside from behind, and I hear the door lock clicking just before his hard cock pushes against my back. Fuck! Am I really going to do this? His family is in the adjacent room, torturing people.
His hand wraps around my neck while the other covers my stiff cock, and suddenly I don’t give a fuck about anything else. I shove all those thoughts away and moan desperately for him.
With a sexy growl to his voice, he says, “It turned you on, didn’t it? Seeing me hurt those donors. Watching me punishing them for what they’ve done. You’re trembling with desire.”
All of it is true, the blood on his hands and both our clothes should make me cringe, push him away with disgust, instead it arouses me in a way I’d have never thought possible.
“Now you want to be fucked by the beast.”
