by Mason, V. F.
But how can I refuse her?
I do as she asked, and the minute I’m on my back, she throws a leg over me and straddles me, her lace-covered pussy just inches away from my hard-on.
I grip her hips, but she glides her palms over my chest, tracing my scars, and my heart stops when she leans down to dust her light kisses over them. She has done it a million times already, but now it’s different. It’s like all those previous times don’t count, as each kiss is coated with love, sorrow, and gentleness.
“They don’t hurt anymore,” I whisper, and she pauses above the one near my heart, a souvenir from Mom’s belt buckle, and lifts her gaze to me.
“But memories do,” she says, and something inside my chest squeezes so hard I can’t breathe, but I manage to drag air in as she trails her kiss lower and lower, sucking on my nipples before nipping on the skin of my six pack. “I’ve always loved this body,” she adds, her fingers tracing circles on my sides as she continues to lavish my stomach with attention, soothing her bites with the lick of her tongue. “But now… now, it’s like a beautiful canvas that holds all your pain on it. I want nothing but to worship it.” Her lips slide lower, and she shifts her hips a little, my groans erupting when I feel her hot breath on my dick. “This is me loving you, Callum, with all your darkness.” Her words slam into me with so much power that, for a second, I think I’m dead.
She loves me with all my darkness?
In her arms, I receive something I could never have hoped for; this goddess accepts the dark monster who will never go away.
And even though he will never harm her, everyone else is a fair game to him.
Is that what love means to a dark soul like me?
Giselle settles on my thighs and leans forward, licking my length before sucking on the head. Her hand grasps my root, squeezing it hard, and I growl, pleasure spreading through me. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I bring her closer, thrusting my hips up, and she relaxes her throat, allowing my cock to slide deeper.
Fucking hell.
She lavishes it with attention while her hand moves up and down my length, and then she releases her mouth and licks me, inhaling my scent. Her nails rake the skin of my hips and she goes back to sucking, allowing me to push myself deeper into her, all while she continues to bring me so much pleasure it’s a wonder I don’t come.
Her mouth is a hot heaven, where I could die a fucking happy man.
She moves restlessly above me, moaning around me, and the vibration fucking shakes through me as I tighten my hold on her, while she nibbles on the head, tasting my precum on her tongue.
Pulling at her hair harshly, I tilt her head so she can raise those beautiful sapphires to me, and the deep, aching need I see there almost brings me undone.
Because when she needs, I provide.
“Come here,” I order, tugging her up, and she follows without a single protest, sliding up, up, until her thighs are spread over my head and I clench her ass cheeks in my hands.
She is dripping for me already, her black panties wet from her desire. She must read my mind, because her fingers drift lower, pushing them to the side, opening up her pussy for me, and I flatten my tongue, pushing it inside her. She moans, and my eyes shoot up to see her circling her nipples as she grinds on my face.
Her taste is divine. I want to always be coated in her scent so it can be present with me wherever I go. I rub my face on her before licking her up and down, biting on her clit and then pushing my tongue back inside, all while she gyrates above me, either chanting or moaning my name.
I could stay here for hours and feast on her until my fucking balls turn blue, but by the way she is clenching around me, I know she’s close.
Latching onto her clit, giving it one last suckle, I rip her panties off and flip her on her back, covering her body with mine and spreading her thighs wide around my hips.
Her hair lies all over the black pillow, her eyes are glazed, and she bites on her lips, whispering, “Callum.” I lean forward to trap her nipples with my teeth, pulling at them, because I know it makes her crazy with desire, and she wraps her legs around me, digging her heels into my ass, lifting her hips and seeking my dick.
Trailing my lips back to her mouth, I plunge my tongue deep inside, combining our tastes, and then thrust into her, swallowing her relieved whimper.
God, this is heaven on earth for me.
Her tight and hot pussy encloses me, sucking me in deep, and I almost come here and now. I’ve spent too long without her though to end it so soon.
Nor do I want to.
Gripping her ass cheeks, I sway back before entering her slowly, agonizingly slowly again, settling so deep there is no more space to go, allowing her to feel my whole length, every brush of our skin, while the fire between us burns brighter and brighter.
Snatching her mouth away from mine, she rests her head on the pillow as she arches her back and moans, her hands hooking around my neck and bringing me back to her nipples. My hips thrust slowly, in and out, while I fan the pointed pearls and pull at her nipples one by one, needing to see her find what she always does in my arms.
Pleasure without reservations.
I speed up the rhythm, as tingles creep up my back, my body demanding release, but I rein it back, driving into her as her skin flushes. She pushes me away from her, her palms flattening against the headboard, the pulse beating widely in her neck.
“Faster,” she murmurs with her raspy breath, and I comply, slamming into her harsher, all while her legs wrap tighter and tighter around me.
Her pussy clenches so hard around me I think I’m going to fucking come, and she throws her head back, crying out.
And that’s how I want to picture her forever in my brain, flushed with pleasure and nothing else.
One, two, three more thrusts, and I spill inside her, finding my own bliss that rocks me from head to fucking toe, in passion so strong I had no idea it existed in this world.
With her, sex has a different meaning. It’s hot, dirty, but above else, it’s loving.
How could I ever let her go?
I rest on her for a minute as we both catch our breaths and then slide to the side, lying on my back and watching the ceiling. I hear the sheets rustling and turn my head to see her lying on her side, her cheek on the pillow as her eyes study me with an unreadable expression.
Mimicking her position, I put my hand on her cheek and caress her gently, hoping that from this touch she will understand the depth of my emotions without me saying the words.
I can’t tell her.
Not now, and maybe not ever.
She stiffens next to me, removing her cheek from under my hand and rising up on the bed, looking around. “I have to go.” She gets up, shivering slightly in the AC, and I follow her, turning it off, hating her discomfort.
She puts on the dress, avoiding my gaze, and I don’t fucking understand. “Giselle.” She still ignores me, adjusting her hair in the mirror and rushing toward the hallway, where she steps into her shoes and bolts toward the elevator, but I catch her in time. “So you’re running away.”
She stands with her back to me, pressing the elevator button, and then sighs heavily, spinning around. I see nothing but complete devastation on her face.
Anger, fear, and disgust I can handle, because underneath them, there was always Giselle, my wild orchid.
But now, there is nothing but hopelessness. As if she’s not even here with me. “Will you tell me the truth, the whole truth?” she asks again, and it’s like a blade I usually use on my victims, stabbing me in my heart.
How can I tell her the truth… if it will destroy her?
Only when I get my revenge can she know what really happened… and eventually maybe she’ll forgive me.
But if I tell her now, guilt will eat her alive or she’ll do something stupid that might harm her.
And I can never allow it.
“I already answered that question.”
She nods, quickly wipes away
the single tear on her cheek, and takes a deep breath. “Then there is nothing left to say.” The elevator dzings loudly, the doors sliding open, and before she gets inside, she throws over her shoulder, “Congratulations. You will have a wife. But you forever lost me.” And with that, she rides away, leaving me alone.
Even though every instinct in me screams to go after her, I stand still. Because I have to fulfill a promise to the five-year-old boy who still lives inside me before I can be hers.
And I can never betray him, not even for Giselle.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Callum, 25 years old
Snapping my eyes open, I glance down to see a woman’s arm splayed over me while her breath fans my cheek.
What the fuck?
I snatch it away and swing to the side, sitting up on the bed and reaching for my cigarettes. Lighting one up, I’m about to take a greedy pull, when I feel the palm gliding down from my neck to my spine and the hot body presses flush against me, murmuring into my ear, “Come back to bed, Callum.”
I get up so swiftly she yelps when I grab her hand and push her away. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She blinks in surprise and lifts the covers over her breasts, clearly no longer so sure of her charms.
Why can’t people follow simple rules?
“I thought you might want to—”
“Might want what? To fuck you? I said once and done,” I tell her, and she flinches as if it hurts her. Give me a fucking break. Like I’d promise anyone forever? “I told you never to touch me.” They always have their hands tied to the bed, on the rare occasions I did want sex.
Usually after I kill someone, the need from the adrenaline becomes so strong it requires an outlet. A willing body works just fine, as long as they keep their hands away from me and their mouths shut.
Never claimed to be a good guy.
“I’ll leave now.” She quickly puts on her clothes while I go out onto the balcony, inhaling the rich summer air of Houston.
For some, it might be hot as fuck… but for me?
Heaven on earth after the cold, shitty places I’ve had to experience.
Puffing smoke into the air, I hold back a laugh when I remember how George, my latest victim, choked on his genitals after I fed them to him.
I pick up the half-full whiskey bottle from the table and take a greedy gulp, groaning at the burning liquid, which instantly brings me clarity. Oddly enough, alcohol has always had the opposite effect on me; I never lose my focus.
The walls vibrate with the loud music downstairs, the party at the club operating in full swing now. After all, the best of the best were invited here.
After Sociopath taught me how to properly kill people—and that guy has some fucking mad skills—I finished my degree and invested in an old building on the outskirts of Houston.
Luke and Sociopath told me to be wise, but I didn’t listen to them. Instead, I transformed it into one of the most exclusive establishments in the state, allowing only the richest of the rich to attend. The success of one of them has allowed me to open a chain all over the country.
In short, I have millions in my account, which in turn allows me to invest in my botanical corporation, specializing in flowers.
All in all, life is bliss.
The door shuts behind Pamela—I think that’s her name—and I want to take another sip, when I hear Tick’s panicked voice behind me. “We have a problem downstairs.”
“Handle it.” He is the head manager of this club.
But he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I can’t handle it. The person requests your presence, and he is in your office.”
My brows rise at that. Fucking what now? “I’ll be there shortly. If I find it’s bullshit, you are fired,” I inform him, and he winces but nods and goes back.
I put on my clothes, grab the nearby gun, and quickly end up on the first floor.
Whoever that person is, he is fucking dead.
Pushing through bodies dancing to the beat of the music, I reach my office door and enter, only to see a man standing with his back to me, snapping his fingers in time to the music coming from the speakers.
Shutting the door right in Tick’s worried face, I announce my presence. “You have one second to explain who the fuck you are to demand my time before I’ll shoot you.”
An amused chuckle erupts right before he spins around.
The man has short, dark hair, a five o’clock shadow, and wears a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. I’d think he belonged to a motorcycle club, except his jacket has no patches.
He is as tall and muscled as me, but more importantly, he oozes the same confidence as I do.
Only two men are able to give this vibe.
Sociopath and Lachlan.
“Callum, looking good,” he drawls, and that’s when I notice his intense blue eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.
I’ve only seen this combination in the stare of one guy.
“Santiago?” I ask with disbelief, and he opens his arms, grinning wide.
“The one and only, darling.” I stay unmoving, and he raises his brow. “What? I don’t get a hug? After all, your childhood friend has showed up. I expected better.”
“We were never friends.” I finally find my voice. Nothing much shocks me now, but I thought this guy had died. Luke and I tried finding him and Artem, but no information came up, so we gave up.
Looks like one of them survived.
Santiago sighs dramatically, placing his hand on his forehead, saying, “Those three years meant nothing to you. I’m crushed.”
Leave it to Santiago to bring up our nightmare so casually. I see the years only deepened his insanity.
Walking around him, I plant my ass on the chair and motion for him to sit opposite me. “What do you want?”
He drops onto the chair and kicks his feet up, resting them on the table. “You became boring. Successful, but boring.”
“I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep at night because of that.” Nothing but sarcasm laces my tone.
He chuckles, taking out his cigarette. “I want your club.”
Out of all the things I expected him to say, this takes me by surprise. “I don’t sell my clubs.” What an idiotic reply.
“Hear me out. You don’t have a club in Chicago. We want to open one there. Under your brand. You will get a share, but that’s about it.”
I laugh at this, fucking stunned with his confidence. “Be still my heart at such a proposition. Why would I compromise my brand for you? Not to mention, if I want to open up a club in Chicago, I can do it myself and keep all the profit.” Then something else flashes in my mind. “We?”
His mouth curves in a grin as he lights up his cigarette and exhales smoke right into my face.
Fucker.
“The Four Dark Horsemen.” I still, watching him carefully while he continues. “You have heard of us, haven’t you?” It’s hard not to, if you are in our circles.
Four deadly men who don’t know words like remorse, sanity, mercy, or compassion. They see whatever they want, take it, and then destroy it.
Santiago, Octavius, Remi, Florian.
One of the reasons everyone keeps cold peace with them. “Am I supposed to?” I say, and he grins once again. I’m surprised I’m not blinded by his fucking white teeth.
“Well, since you’re Hades and all.” He casually throws out my serial killer alter ego, blowing out smoke. “Kind of funny we all ended up in the same profession. Comes with the childhood, I guess.” He clicks his fingers. “Right, answering your earlier question. We like your club, the structure, the order. We have so many businesses we don’t want to waste time on this shit.”
Yeah, right. There is something else going on; they need a cover, and my reputation precedes me. Knowing them, it’s some dark shit that will bite me in the ass someday.
“Lachlan has a club,” I supply and see how his eyes darken.
Interesting. “Lachlan has a little pr
oblem with Remi.” He doesn’t elaborate, not that I care.
Besides, Remi’s obsession with Amalia, one of Lachlan’s protégées, is legendary and well known among us. Too bad for him, Lachlan put a veto on this, claiming she didn’t need his shit.
With how self-righteous Lachlan is, it’s a wonder he doesn’t have a problem with all four horsemen.
“The answer is still no.” I get up, desperately needing to get away from here, because his presence… reminds me of the boys we used to be.
Raped, beaten, stripped of basic human rights.
And thoughts like that always awaken the beast inside me and pump my blood, demanding justice I can never achieve.
Edward died in that fucking fire, and all the men connected to the organization were destroyed by other serial killers. I could never torture the one I wanted, so I had to settle for substitutes. No one can bring back my lost years, but there are men who do to others what was done to me, and I will destroy them.
That’s a vow I always intend to keep.
Santiago, though, points at the table, and only then do I see a folder on it that doesn’t belong to me. “I think you need to look at that before you refuse.”
I flip it open and freeze when the photo of my mother comes into view.
Do it for Mommy, Callum.
My hand squeezes into a fist, while barely controlled rage threatens to rise to the surface.
All these years, I purposely stayed away from trying to find anything on her, because the minute my eyes landed on her… I’d have killed her. Luke just made sure she didn’t use any other poor kid and handled her. He never elaborated on what that meant.
“What are you hoping to achieve?” I’m not even bothered enough to ask how he has this information. “I couldn’t give two shits about this woman’s whereabouts.”
“Turn to the next page,” he replies, and I do, my eyes widening at the information laid out there, and unfamiliar emotions rush through me. “This is not everything, of course. There is a price to pay.” He leans closer. “Like your club.”
I ignore him, my focus still on the paper, while different memories from my childhood emerge one after another. And in this moment, I want to kill Santiago with my bare hands for bringing me this, because now I can never block it all away.
