Page 77 of The Misfits
When the wetness of her tears seeps into my pants, I fight the urge to shift her silent begs into screams of mercy. It’s a fucking hard feat, even more so since her towel slipped from her body when she raced my way.
The skitzo in Megan’s eyes will never fully wane, but there’s no denying her beauty, and when the scent of her blood is intermingled with her fruity shampoo, she’s even more beautifully deranged.
But it’s just the pills, right? She’s not fucked in the head like me. She could have a normal life if I can look past my father’s teachings and understand that not everyone is born to be like me.
Well, as normal as someone who has killed can. That’s a ‘condition’ that is rarely correctable.
Hating that I’m trying to talk myself out of my decision, I peel Megan off me then bark out, “You need to get dressed. We only have days before our plan is upended for months on end.”
Rise Up, the band both Megan’s obsession and Cleo’s mate are a part of, is going on a final world tour. They leave for the European leg late next week.
My steps away from Megan wobble when the faintest murmur leaves her lips. It could have been a grunt, but the thickening of my cock doesn’t agree. She spoke, and if the prickling of the hairs on my nape are anything to go by, she did it to deny me.
I spin around to face her, my footing so unsteady my words crack out of my mouth as loudly as the creak of my bones from my abrupt twist. “What did you say?”
Her drenched hair falls from her face when she sheepishly tilts back her head. The determination in her eyes is surprisingly strong for how hard her lips are quivering. I realize that’s more from the effort it takes for her to deny me again than fear when she whispers, “No.”
“You’re denying me?” After charging across the room, I hoist her to her feet by a rough yank on her arm, then spit in her face, “Me!Ifucking saved you!Istopped you from becoming a braindead idiot.”I’m still trying to save you from becoming a braindead idiot.“You cannot deny me. I am a fucking king.”
“My king! We’re one and the same. If you are the king, then I am a king. If you hate, I hate. If you die, I die. I am yours, and you are mine, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.” She breathes in three times in a row before she whispers, “Even you.”
Her voice shocks me. It’s sweet and soft, a serenade a billionaire would pay out the eye to hear over and over again, but my bewilderment has nothing to do with the fact she’s finally spoken. It’s the fanning of her arms as she steps away from me that has me frantically grasping for reality. She’s naked. Exposed. And although the erotic scent lingering in the air exposes that her cunt is dripping, it isn’t the wetness I’m paying attention to. It’s the streams of red rolling down her midsection and the deep cuts in her stomach that spell out my name.
She carved my name into her skin.
Marked herself in a way no man could ever deny who she belongs to.
And she did it without a single ounce of medication teeming through her veins because I made sure every morsel of substance in her stomach was deposited onto the bathroom floor before she entered the shower.
She’s medication free.
Unhinged.
And oh so fucking perfect.
Megan tightens her grip on her switchblade when I mutter, “Give it to me.”
Her stance only lasts as long as it takes for me to point out that her X looks like a T.
When she drops her eyes to check her handiwork, I grip her hand clutching the blade firm enough to snap several bones, then shoot my other hand up to squeeze her neck. “Let me fix it.” They’re not the words streaming through my head, but since they’re far less dangerous, I run with them. “We don’t want people thinking you’re obsessed with Detter. What type of name is Detter, anyway? No one would call their kid Detter. Not even someone as crazy as you.”
Her eyes flare like I complimented her before she bobs her head. It should be impossible for her to do with how hard I am gripping her throat, but like the good little skitzo I am now confident she is, she manages just fine.
“Back on the bed. Feet together and knees spread wide.” I don’t need to see her cunt to know she’s turned on by the rapid shift in my mood. I can smell her arousal in the air. I merely want to make sure the slits in her stomach are as pretty as the one between her legs.
“You didn’t hold back, did you?” I ask after inspecting how deep her cuts go. They’ll scab up nicely, which means they will be seen for years to come.
Megan shakes her head like she didn’t wholly derail my plans with a handful of words before she props herself onto her elbows so she can watch me fix the X in my name.
“Shh. I’m barely touching you,” I mutter when the slightest whimper rumbles in her chest from the switchblade digging deep into her skin. It switches to a moan when I add, “Yet.”
Air hisses between her teeth like a snake when I lick up a droplet of blood before it can roll over her almost bare mound.
“Waste not, want not,” I murmur against her blood-stained skin before hitting her stomach with another long lick, this one a little lower than the first.
When the combined taste of her arousal and blood warp my senses, I dump the switchblade onto the bedding before burying my head between her legs. I bite her clit with the viciousness of a beast before suffocating it with the undivided attention of my tongue. I lick, suck, and fuck her delicious cunt with my mouth for several long minutes, completely oblivious to the fact she’s close to detonation with only the slightest bit of cruelty.
I shouldn’t be surprised. When you’re being bedded by a king, gimmicks aren’t needed.
