God, she looked good, even with that smile.
As we neared the ten-minute mark to my house, I asked, “What has you so happy?” I could’ve gone about this dozens of ways, told her I already knew what made her smile, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“He’s taken another life,” Stella spoke, turning her head away from the window to glance at me. With the grin on her full lips, her eyes practically sparkled, the two mismatched colors lighting up her face. “The Angel Maker is officially a serial killer now.”
“Have you watched the news? That’s what they’re calling him, you know. The Angel Maker. All because of you.”
“Not all because of me. I only came up with the name. I didn’t make him kill any of those people.” Stella fiddled with her hands in her lap, her eyes gaining a vacant look, as if she was remembering something. “I wonder how he started out, how long ago he killed his first.”
I shot her a quick look as I made a right turn. “You don’t think the body found in the basement was his first?”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. Even though that body was old, it just…feels like it doesn’t fit with the others.” Stella looked at me then, pausing only for a moment before asking, “When did you kill your first?”
I wanted to laugh, because this was so not a conversation I could have with anyone. My parents had kicked me out of the house for killing the neighbors’ dogs. Killing in general was so taboo to society, and I’d been intensely fortunate to stumble upon Lincoln’s family while they were searching for a nameless man to practice on.
With Stella, I knew I could talk about anything. I could tell her the truth, and she wouldn’t judge me for it. Was I lucky or what for reaching out to her, for finding her the exact moment I did? Where would my life be right now if I hadn’t stalked her workplace the day of her boss’s party? It was hard to imagine, because I didn’t want a life without Stella in it. Not anymore. She was mine in every way possible, and I would never let her go. I would fight tooth and nail to keep her.
A pointless thought, because I didn’t think she’d be running from Lincoln and I anytime soon, especially after she saw what we had in store for her in the basement.
“I was actually a teenager when I killed my first,” I said, mentally reliving the moment. Crouching in the shadows in that warehouse, watching as some older man tied the homeless man up—Carl, I used to call him, even though I didn’t know his name. “I was homeless. My parents kicked me out after they found the corpses of quite a few neighborhood pets.”
A look of sadness crossed her beautiful face. “They kicked you out because you killed animals? That doesn’t seem right. You’re their son.”
“Most parents tend to disown their children if they break certain rules of society, like murder,” I said, shrugging once. It might’ve weighed heavily on me years ago, but now I was over it. I was better where I was with Lincoln than I would’ve been wherever I would’ve ended up if my parents had never kicked my ass to the curb.
“I know, but…I still don’t think it’s right.”
“I sort of made a friend in a fellow homeless man, even though he didn’t talk to me. I named him Carl. One day we were sleeping when a fancy BMW pulled up. Some man in a suit grabbed him, took him. I was awake the whole time, and I thought they didn’t know. I followed the car to a warehouse—pretty close to where we were.”
I always assumed Lincoln’s family owned the warehouse, but I never outright asked. They were rich; it seemed like a logical thing, to own a bunch of properties.
“They tied Carl up, used him as instruction. How the body changes when it’s thin and underfed.” I explained that the boy being taught was Lincoln, knowing Stella’s eyes grew wider. “He wanted Lincoln to kill the man, but he didn’t. He let me do it, after I was dragged out of the shadows. My first human kill was my friend Carl.”
Stella said, “So they took you in after that? A stranger in their own home?”
I laughed. I didn’t know how Stella pictured Lincoln’s family, but however she did it was way off. “Lincoln’s family isn’t your typical family. Most of them aren’t even related by blood. They adopt a lot, that way they have countless of ready and willing contract killers.”
“So they’re assassins?”
“Technically, but they don’t like that word. They like to say that when they get paid, accidents happen a lot more often,” I said, knowing Lincoln would probably hate that I was explaining his family to Stella, but as far as I was concerned, his family was my family. I’d spent years with them, learning the ropes. Lincoln and I only moved out when we were twenty-two, quite a few years ago now. It’d been a long time since they called on either of us to complete any contracts.
Stella seemed thoughtful. “Huh, I never knew. Are they all like you, then?”
“If you mean if the rest of the family has the need to kill, no. A lot of them only kill when they’re contracted to. Lincoln was always a bit too messy for them, even though they tried to teach him stealth. It’s why they were more than willing to let us go.”
I pulled into our driveway, taking Stella by the hand when we were both out of the car and tugging her along. The instant we were inside the house, I pushed Stella against the wall, grabbed her by the throat and kissed her. All that talk of the past—who needed it? The now was so much better than the then.
A cough in the living room alerted me to someone else’s presence, and I pulled my lips off hers to look at Lincoln, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging against the shirt he wore. For once, he was fully clothed. He wouldn’t be for long.
“What the fuck,” Lincoln muttered, dark eyes glaring. “Where were you?”
I looked back to Stella, remembering she said she wanted to tell both Lincoln and I at the same time. Right. Sex could wait, at least for a little bit. Dropping my hand off her throat, I pulled myself off her. Together we joined Lincoln in the living room, all three of us sitting on the couch, two of us especially anxious and morbidly curious.
Stella sat in the middle, looking rather small between us. Short, too. Above her head, I could see Lincoln’s frowning face. He looked like he wanted to punish her for worrying him, which I was all for. Watching was my second favorite thing for a reason. When Lincoln got into it…it was a sight to behold. No words could describe it.
“I wrote to him,” she spoke quietly, fidgeting with her hands. “On my blog, I wrote a post to the Angel Maker to see if he was listening—and he was. It was after Callie and I went to bed. I heard something, got up and then…he was in our house. I didn’t see him because he was behind me, but he…he wrapped his arm around my throat and I passed out. When I came to, I was in a parking lot.”
I didn’t need her to keep going. I knew the end to this story, or at least what came next. The newest victim was found in a parking lot. The Angel Maker kidnapped her and dumped her before his precious angel? I felt my blood boiling. How dare the freak lay a single hand on her; she wasn’t his. She was ours.
“It was Sandy, a coworker of mine,” Stella went on, speaking not with a monotone, but with exuberance, with a giddy tone which only meant she’d loved every second of it. That ticked me off, too. Stupid as it was, I felt like I was losing her to this Angel Maker. “The police came, took me in. They sat me in a room for hours before questioning me.”
Lincoln’s frown could not be deeper or more intense, the sneer on his face an angry scowl. “What did you tell them?”
“I told them I wrote about serial killers, that I thought I might have his attention, somehow. I don’t know if they believed me or not, but I gave them Killian’s name as a reference.” She tilted her head, some of her hair falling over her face. “Do you think they believe I’m working with him? They said I wasn’t under arrest, but they also told me not to leave state lines, in case they need me again. I won’t help them catch him,” she swore to herself, glancing at both Lincoln and me. “I won’t do it.”
Lincoln scoffed, “Sounds like
you’re fucking in love with your precious serial killer. If that’s the case, why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere with him?” He got up off the couch, starting to walk away.
Her next words stopped him in his tracks, “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” he echoed, whirling on her. “Did you just ask me if I’m fucking jealous of your goddamned Angel Maker?” Within an instant, he stood in front of her, leaning down. His hand met with her throat and he pushed her back onto the couch. He didn’t hold her throat too tightly, just tight enough to make her squirm.
Her mismatched eyes stared up at him, and she spoke evenly, if a bit raspy, “I did, because I think you are.”
“Why the fuck would I be jealous of a fucking serial killer?” His fingers dug into her throat, and she didn’t even wince.
I sat back, watching the interaction, wondering if this was how she’d acted when Lincoln had gone to her house to kill her. Stared into the eyes of a madman without blinking. Holy hell, she really was perfect for us. Just when I thought she couldn’t become more perfect, here she was, proving me wrong. Stella was the missing piece of our puzzle. She completed us in ways I couldn’t even dream of.
“You tell me,” she egged him on, blinking her gorgeous stare.
“You…” Lincoln could say nothing else; instead he dragged her off the couch, practically throwing her to the floor. Stella didn’t struggle, didn’t try to stand on her feet; she didn’t do anything to stop him, probably because she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him if she tried. That, or she liked his anger.
Yeah, probably that one. Stella was just as twisted as Lincoln and I—there was no denying it. She liked taking the punishments as much as he liked giving them.
Lincoln got to his knees over her, forcing her onto her stomach. They were on the carpet between the couch and the coffee table, and I sat back, only watching, feeling my dick harden beneath my pants. Before I knew it, I was rubbing myself over my jeans.
He tore her pants down, muttering, “See how much you can think of your damned serial killer while I’m inside you.” Within a moment, her ass was bare, her pants and underwear by her knees, down enough so he could slip inside. His hands worked at his jeans, and soon his cock sprung out, lengthened and hard, already dripping with precum.
Lincoln bent over her, his hands fists on the carpet beside her head. I knew the exact moment he pushed himself inside her, mostly because Stella let out a gasp, almost as if she’d forgotten what it was like to have his dick inside her. When his hips began to move, I undid the button and zipper on my own pants, freeing my erection soon after. I ran my hand up and down my hard length as I watched him take her, listened to him grunt with each hard thrust inside her.
Watching was…almost as good as doing it myself. Almost better, in a way. I could see things, focus on things I was too blissfully unaware of while I was inside of her. Her toes clenching, her fingers splaying out. Tiny details like the way she rapidly breathed in with every hard thrust of Lincoln’s.
She was fucking beautiful, no matter who was inside her.
Chapter Six – Lincoln
The fucking woman was asking for it. She basically begged me for it, the moment she accused me of being jealous of that prick. Jealous of the Angel Maker? Hell no. I wasn’t jealous of any man or woman alive.
I wasn’t.
What I did not appreciate was the accusation, and I was going to make sure she knew how wrong she was. Let her try to think of her Angel Maker now, with my thick cock buried deep between her legs.
To be jealous of that sick fuck would mean I wanted Stella’s attention all to myself. Which, in a way, I supposed I did, but only because I wanted Ed to be happy. I had been worried about her earlier mostly on Ed’s account. Not mine. I didn’t need this woman to be content with my life. I didn’t need her to complete me like Ed did.
I…was not falling for this woman. I wouldn’t let myself.
One step forward, ten steps back.
I grabbed the back of her head, my fingers tangling through her hair, and I pulled roughly, exposing her neck to me. Baring my teeth, I didn’t stop dragging my dick in and out of her as I muttered, “When I’m inside you, you better not fucking think of anyone else but me.”
She blinked those horrible eyes, and I fought my urge to get even rougher with her.
“You’re mine,” I added, pressing my mouth against her ear, letting her hear my grunting firsthand. “When my dick is inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand?” Her cunt felt so tight around me, milking me in a way I’d never quite felt before. Almost as if her vagina itself was agreeing to my statement. If my cock was in her, she was mine. No one else’s. Not Ed’s, not the Angel Maker’s. No one’s.
Stella nodded as much as she could, given my tight grip on her hair, like a good girl.
I pushed her face back down to the carpet, moving to hold the back of her neck. I didn’t give two shits if it was an uncomfortable position for her. She’d pissed me off, so she deserved every ounce of pain I gave her, rug burn and all.
On the couch, Ed stroked himself. I didn’t have to look to know. He loved watching me take our conquests, and he loved how rough I got with them. I was pretty sure seeing me so wild made him feel better about his own sexual beast, but I’d never get Ed to admit it. After all, he was the one who liked tying them up. He was the one who liked them absolutely helpless as his dick assailed their wet pussies.
Me? I was always in control, whether rope was involved or not. I didn’t need my women tied down because I was strong enough to make them do what I wanted. Most women enjoyed being submissive, especially to a man like me. Tall, muscled, devilish in every way with my black hair and dark eyes. Their panties probably got wet just by looking at me, let alone looking at my dick, which was bigger than the average cock. Thicker too, which only made the cunts feel tighter against me.
But right now, I couldn’t think of any other cunt beside the one currently surrounding my dick. Stella. Fucking Stella. God, I wanted to strangle her. Part of me still wanted to kill her, if I was honest, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t kill this crazy bitch under me, because my monster had developed a strange craving, a need for her I knew I couldn’t sate with anyone else.
Stella felt so fucking good.
I grabbed her hips, starting to thrust harder, more erratic. Pressure built inside of me, and I fought the urge to come for as long as I could. Not nearly long enough though, for soon my muscles tensed and the orgasm ripped through me. My seed spilled inside of her, but I knew I wasn’t done with her yet.
Pulling out of her, I stood, my dick still erect, now covered in her juices and mine, and took off my shirt. “Get up,” I ordered her, stepping backwards until I stood directly in front of Ed on the couch. The poor man hadn’t come yet. He would, once he watched me take her mouth, once her small body was just as naked as mine. “Take off your clothes.”
Stella knew better than to argue or dismiss my words. Getting to her knees, she slid off her pants and underwear the rest of the way. Her shirt and bra were next, then she turned to face me, about to stand.
I stopped her. “No, on your knees. Crawl to me.” Normally it was Ed who gave commands like that, but sometimes I liked taking the reins. Plus, I knew he’d like hearing it, not to mention adore watching Stella crawl to my wet dick on her hands and knees.
A servant to everything I was, she crawled to me. I couldn’t tell if her crazy eyes were focused on my dick or my face, but it didn’t matter. Once I was fucking her mouth, she wouldn’t be able to look at me much.
She opened her mouth, and I didn’t wait for her to do more. I pushed my tip past her lips, feeling her tongue run along the underside. I let out a low moan—there was always something about mouths that got me off fast. Maybe because I liked the dirty aspect of it, because it meant the one on her knees before me was under my utter control, willing to do whatever it took to please me.
“Let’s give Ed a good show, shall we?” I aske
d, my voice husky as I glanced at the man on the couch. He’d fully taken off his clothes during the transition, sitting there stark naked, running his fist along his dick slowly. Speed would come once I started fucking her mouth with vigor.
With my cock in her mouth, I swore I felt her nod. A small acquiescence of my authority, of agreement. It was more than I needed to start pumping in and out of her mouth, pushing myself down her throat.
She did much better than she did the first time. She didn’t gag much, and her face was as relaxed as it could be. I fisted her hair, rocking my hips back and forth as I relished the feeling of her mouth against me, her tongue on the underside of my dick, the feeling of being in complete control of her.
Ed’s blue eyes watched me fuck Stella’s mouth, sweat glistening on his strong chest as his arm tensed. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy having an audience. Knowing Ed was watching, knowing he took just as much pleasure in it as I did—the mere thought was what sent me over the edge usually.
The other man let out a soft moan as white cum shot out of the tip of his dick, landing on his stomach, smearing him in his own ejaculate. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched, and once Ed came, I felt my own orgasm building again. This time I didn’t fight to last longer. This time I let it wash over me in a wave of undeniable pleasure, tingling every nerve in my body as I lost control.
My cum shot down Stella’s throat, and she barely blinked as she swallowed every ounce up. I was slow to pull out of her, nearly stumbling back, feeling—at least for the moment—spent. I pushed around her, moving to plop myself down on the opposite end of the couch from Ed. Now it was his turn to fuck her. His turn to feel her wet pussy with my cum dripping down along her inner thighs.
The man wouldn’t complain.
Stella crawled over to Ed, placing her hands on his knees. He leaned forward, helping her up, and then he threw her between us on the couch, his voice husky and ragged as he looked at me and said, “Hold her arms.”
Cold Dark Souls : A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Cruel Black Hearts Book 2) Page 4
