Choke Me

by K. Webster

  “We’ll see. Gotta go, man.” I hang up and run my stare down Natasha’s slender throat. It’s pale white, desperate to be sucked, marked, and bitten. My dick is hardening again in my jeans at the image of her neck purple and bruised. I have to fist my hand at my side to keep from stalking over to her and pinning her to the wall with my hand around her neck.

  I start for her, and for a moment, she seems panicked. She stumbles back a couple of steps until her ass bounces against the wall behind her. A guy nearby laughs and says something to her. Fury causes her brows to crash together. I can practically see the steam coming from her ears. If I can piss her off by simply looking at her, then I can only imagine what sort of response I can get from her when I have her naked and beneath me with my tongue between her thighs.

  She brings a shaky hand to her glasses and adjusts them. They were fine, but I remembered this nervous habit from the courtroom. When she was upset or couldn’t handle what the prosecutors were saying, she’d absently grab one side of her black glasses with her thin fingers and move her glasses a little. I also know she bites on one corner of her bottom lip when she’s about to cry.

  She’s not biting her lip now.

  Now, it’s as though she’s sharpening her inner claws.

  I like pain, little lamb.

  Her green eyes glow hot with anger. She’s obviously here to confront me. Most likely for being acquitted by the jury. Kate Rose was a nice woman. If they were best friends, Natasha must be fairly nice too for them to get along.

  And nice girls don’t come after bad boys.

  Bad boys will eat nice girls for dinner.

  She catches me eyeing her hungrily. I lick my lips and grin at her. I’d give my right nut to run my tongue along the side of her perfect, untouched neck. To taste the saltiness of her unease as it prickles along her flesh like a delicious little snack for a monster like me. I would nibble at her tiny earlobe with the tiny diamond stud and whisper hot, dirty things into her ear.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I glance over at the clock. Ten minutes. I have ten minutes until I need to get out into the main part of the club to listen to Soul Prison. She has ten minutes to come over here and do whatever damage she plans on doing.

  And she better cut deep, hard, and fast.

  Because if she doesn’t…I’ll be coming for her.

  There’s no way I can’t pursue the fuck out of this woman now. Not when I’ve fantasized about making her face turn purple and her throat bruised by my fingers. She should have stayed the fuck away. I would’ve left her alone. Tried to forget about how fucking enticing she was in the courtroom.

  But now?

  Little lamb, you’ve fucked up by coming to the lion’s den.

  I’m hungry for you, baby.

  I have your scent now.

  There’s no getting away.

  Two

  He’s disgusting. I hate him.

  How can that woman do that to him in full view of everyone?

  Gross. And weird, too.

  Her head bobs up and down like she’s going for gold and yet he’s not even paying attention to her ministrations. Warm, acquisitive eyes scan the room until they find me and stop.

  A twist of his lips sends a flood of heat to my cheeks and between my thighs.

  Ugh, focus, Natasha.

  Some of these places he likes to come to are just a cesspit for drunks and whores, both men and women. The air stinks of cheap perfume, lousy beer, sweat, and bodily fluids. I’m going to need to get checked at the clinic after just coming in here.

  I sense other men’s eyes on me, but the only ones having any effect are his.

  The bastard.

  I detest him and his influence on my body more than anything in this world. My body doesn’t contain the same rage my mind does. I hate how I can know what he is—a monster, a pervert, a murdering creep—yet my body still reacts like every other damn woman who’s around him. Lust. Primal and achingly present whenever I see him.

  Pleasure washes over his face, the muscles in his body tensing as the blonde on her knees gags on his release. Disgusting. Beautiful. When she pulls away, I catch a glint of silver on the tip of his dick. A piercing. I’m ridiculously curious, but refuse to entertain that thought for even one second longer.

  He fastens his jeans, his eyes never leaving my direction. Good. I want him to see me. To know I’m watching.

  I’ll haunt him for her. I won’t let him forget her and what he did.

  Sending the woman on her way forces a snort from me. The disappointment on her face is comical. She looks older than him by at least a decade, and yet has the same pining in her eyes as most of the college age girls here, hoping at a shot with the bad boy Ren Hayes. His reputation is more famous than half the bands he’s helped launch.

  The swagger he has screams confidence—in charge—not a care in the world. But he’s a murderer.

  Convincing the strangers on the jury—who didn’t even know Kate—that he didn’t kill her, may have come naturally to him, but he didn’t trick me with his lies. I know what he did, and so does he.

  He didn’t just kill my best friend, he stole a part of me in the process.

  Kate and I weren’t just friends. We grew up together, shared dreams, went to school together, lived together.

  We were best friends, and he snuffed out her light. The asshole got away with it, making her out to be some fetish queen. Kate was as straitlaced as they come. I would have known if she was into kinky sex. She would have told me. Wouldn’t she?

  Ignoring the faint whisperings of my subconscious, I narrow my eyes at Ren. As much as I remind myself he’s a killer, it doesn’t stop me from coming here, from seeking him out.

  I’m not afraid of him. Not in the way I should be. But I can’t figure out why the hell not.

  My chest constricts when he begins walking my way. I hate the conflicting ramblings of my mind that send a flutter of attraction below my waist as my eyes track over his well-formed body.

  Worn leather boots track a path to me. Jeans caressing his legs and hanging low on his hips scream rock star. A band tee and a leather jacket cover his torso. A chiseled jaw, thick lips, and straight nose accompany deep oval-shaped eyes the color of rich, dark chocolate to complete his beautiful face. His hair is a dark, messy mop that sits in disarray over his head.

  That stupid face had every female juror melting in their seats and every male wishing they were him.

  There’s a charm about him that’s intoxicating if you allow yourself to be bewitched by it.

  Anxiety niggles away at me, making me fidget and play with my glasses. I refuse to squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze. I won’t allow him to see how out of my comfort zone I am.

  I’ve learned everything I can about who he is. I know all the bars he visits—where he lives—where he works. The Internet is a powerful tool, free to us all. No one can be anonymous in this day and age.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I glare up at him as his boots stop almost on top of my tennis shoes.

  So close.

  I can almost taste the sweat beading on the flesh of his neck.

  “You’ve been eye-fucking me, sweetheart. You want to play out those fantasizes flashing through that innocent, little head of yours or just observe while someone else does?”

  “You’re an animal,” I snap, disgust rippling through me.

  The curl of his lip makes my stomach dip.

  “That’s what intrigues you, though, isn’t it, Natasha?” He caresses my name over his tongue, making every letter sound dirty.

  Many times, our eyes clashed during his trial. A thousand words were shared without making a sound. He knows who I am, just like I know who he is. We’re connected in the most fucked up of ways.

  Music thuds to the sound of my heartbeat as the atmosphere thickens and pulses around us.

  Looking down at the watch on his wrist, he mutters under his breath, and then taps his finger on the watch face. “I only have five
minutes, gorgeous. Still, I’m sure I can make you come in that time. Although,” he purrs, closing in around me, robbing me of breath, “I’m pretty certain you’re halfway there already. Like to watch, do you?”

  Slamming my hands on his firm chest, I attempt to force him away, but his body doesn’t even flinch at my attack. Hard muscles tense against the skin of my palms.

  Damn, he’s like granite to touch. I want to explore the rest of him.

  No, you don’t.

  Chuckling, he looks down at my fingers splayed across him. A wicked spark flashes in his brown eyes, sending a quivering ache through my body. I sag in response, hating myself for having any reaction to his good looks. My hands drop to my sides like the mere touch of him burns. A stinging sensation forms in my eyes, threatening to show my vulnerability and weakness.

  Please don’t cry.

  Please don’t cry.

  I hate myself. I hate him. You want him.

  Tracing his eyes over my face, his brow drops and then he’s moving back a step. A cool whoosh of air saturates me, making me sigh in relief. I need the reprieve from having his dominating presence so close. He overwhelms me, his proximity a storm of chaotic emotions swirling my insides, leaving me a muddled and confused puddle.

  “Time’s up,” he says with a wicked wink. “See you around, Nat.”

  Bastard.

  “Yes, you will,” I spit out. “You’ll be seeing me everywhere.” I square my shoulders, taking a step toward him, filling with a bravado that’s usually foreign to me. “I’m going to be everywhere you turn. You will see so much of me. I’ll be there when you close your eyes at night. I’ll remind you every day of what you are, what you did, all this,” I snap, gesturing to him from head to toe. “You may convince everyone else that you’re too pretty to be a killer, but not me. You’re a murderer, Ren Hayes. I won’t let you forget that.”

  All air rushes from my lungs when he closes back in on me lightning quick. Chills scatter over my flesh, causing the skin to rise with goose bumps. A pit of dread forms in my stomach. My back hits the wall behind me as his hand comes up to my neck, but doesn’t close around me. Instead, he hovers his palm there.

  A threat of what he could do. What he wants to do. The action an echo of how Kate died.

  “I hope you’re prepared to be pushed far out of your comfort zone then, precious. Because forcing yourself into my world is a daring thing to do.” His breath whispers over my ear, brushing my hair with his lips. My chest heaves with ragged breaths as I attempt to drag air into my lungs. “The Ren Hayes you’re speaking of sounds like a dangerous man,” he finishes as he pulls away slightly, his eyes stroking over every inch of my face, ending at my lips.

  “Maybe I’m a dangerous woman,” I choke out.

  Grinning, he pushes away from me. “We’ll see about that.”

  And then he’s gone, disappearing from the VIP room and back into the club, leaving me a gasping mess.

  Three

  A week later…

  Sweat coats my skin, dripping down my torso. Every part of me is on fire. I take the girl from behind, her blond hair gripped in my fist as I force my cock all the way to the hilt inside her. Moans hum through the room in sync with my punishing thrusts.

  “Choke me, fucking choke me,” the bitch begs.

  “Shut up,” I growl. The rule I gave her was she doesn’t get to fucking speak.

  I have someone else in my mind, and this bitch’s voice is ruining the fantasy.

  My hand slips over her shoulder and up to her neck. Her pulse jumps under my palm. I tighten my fist, cutting off her airway.

  Juices spurt over my cock from the mere touch of my skin on her neck.

  Tugging her head back further and giving her throat a little squeeze has her coming completely undone. Spasms rack over her body, her orgasm violent and unsatisfying for me.

  Pulling out of her, I release her hair and neck before yanking off my condom. I stroke my cock, my thumb rubbing over the silver ball of my piercing, with another blonde in mind until my load empties over her ass.

  “I’ve been waiting nearly a year to get in this room with you,” she pants, collapsing on the bed.

  It fucking shows. She was ready to combust before we even got naked. I have a reputation at this club. Hush is my favorite and members only. It’s for all kinds of kinks and fetishes. I’m good friends with the owner, Joshua Tuck. We’ve known each other since before he opened this place, and I’ve been around to watch it become one of the most desirable clubs to have a membership with. There are a couple of Doms, along with myself, who have a wait list here at Hush. When the women are like Amber, however, it makes the whole scene feel tacky and forced.

  Walking over to the adjacent bathroom, I wash my hands and splash cold water over my face. A shower would feel better, but this will do for now. Amber chatters on about next time—there won’t be a next time—while I brood over a certain blonde who has me all tied up in knots.

  A rap on the door saves me from having to spend any more time than necessary in here with this joke of a woman and I flee the bathroom, eager for the interruption. She doesn’t have a fetish. She just likes good-looking cock, rougher than she’d get it at home from her husband. Amber wouldn’t know real breathplay even if I throttled her into unconsciousness.

  Slipping my jeans up my thighs, I saunter to the door and unlock it. Axel, the head of security, stands before me—all six feet seven of him.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Ren, but there’s a woman out front asking everyone questions about you. Do you want her gone?”

  Motherfucker.

  How the fuck did she get in here? The little troublemaker has been everywhere lately, at every fucking turn, but here? I thought this would be the one place she wouldn’t come into.

  Storming down the corridor, I barge onto the club floor and scan the room.

  I spot her from a mile away. She stands out like a grandma at a frat party.

  Her innocent look and inexperienced aura is like a fucking neon sign making every dick in this place rock fucking hard. All attention falls on me as I storm over to her, wearing nothing but my unbuckled jeans.

  Her back is to me as she talks animatedly to two Doms, who are lapping up her naivety.

  She must sense me coming because her body visibly tenses. Her shoulders straighten as she slowly turns to face me. The two guys she was talking to watch me over her shoulder, eyes heavy with intrigue and lust evident in their expressions.

  “Ren, speak of the devil.” One of them named Nick sluggishly grins.

  “How the fuck did you get in here?” I growl down at her, ignoring them.

  “I paid for my membership like everyone else.” She smirks with a shrug of her shoulders, proud of herself.

  Reaching out, I grasp her wrist, causing a startled gasp to leave her plush, full lips. The tantalizing sound of it makes my dick jump.

  “Let go of me, you murderer,” she snarls, trying to free herself.

  I’m sick to death of hearing that fucking word aimed at me.

  A raised eyebrow from both guys makes me fucking fume. “Mind your damn business,” I growl at them and drag her across the room.

  She struggles when I push through the doors to the corridor leading back to the room I just left. Shoving her inside the room, she squeals and then screws her face up when she sees Amber still inside getting dressed.

  “Out,” I bark, making Amber’s mouth pop open. She looks between us both and licks her lips.

  “I can stay,” Amber offers, smiling as she cuts her greedy eyes over to Natasha.

  “Gross,” Nat snaps, shuddering.

  Amber narrows her eyes and folds her arms over her bought chest. “Rude, little bitch.”

  Snatching up her shirt, Amber sashays over to me and pulls it over her head. When she reaches me, she grabs my face in her palms, forcing me down to her mouth. Her lips smack loudly with mine as she makes a show of it, and I let her. Teeth nip and her tongue tastes me. Then,
she’s smirking over at Nat before leaving the room with a wave of her fingers.

  Natasha wrinkles her nose as she walks over to the disheveled bed. “So, you have sex with people in here?”

  “Why? You want to go for a ride?” I tease.

  “Over my dead body,” she stutters on the last word, and her brow crashes over her pretty green eyes.

  Her best friend’s death is haunting her.

  “Calm down, Nat. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t bring you in here to do it.” I flick my eyes up to the camera in the corner of the room and wink over at her.

  “Oh, I know how and where you like to kill people.” She means the cheap apartment building over on Beller Square. Strangled to death. Just like Kate was found. Anger replaces her sorrow from moments before. “They film you having sex in here? With women like that?” She scowls, pointing to the door, clearly referring to Amber.

  “The camera is for safety reasons. To protect the club if an accident should happen or if anyone breaks the rules, and what’s wrong with Amber?” I ask just to fuck with her.

  “She’s tacky for one and more plastic than flesh for another. And rules, really, Ren? Where were your rules when you killed Kate?” she sneers, her mouth cruel and biting, but her eyes drink in my bare chest hungrily, betraying her.

  Anger is a powerful tool, but also a damaging one. It can eat you up and leave nothing but a bitter taste in your mouth.

  “Kate was into this scene, no matter how much you want to think otherwise,” I tell her.

  Her feet rush over to me, and a tiny palm slaps across my cheek, sending a spark of fire across my skin and into my dick. She’s fucking cute.

  “You don’t get to speak her name. Your lies won’t work on me. I knew her. I know she wouldn’t be into this disgusting shit. Fucking in clubs on camera for God knows who to see?”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” I growl, loving the curse words on her sweet lips.

  “Tell me. Tell me how you did it.” She chokes on her words. “Was she in pain? Did she know she was going to die?”