by Mason, V. F.
I want him to know and feel that from me. He is the most important person on this earth; his pleasure means as much to me as my own.
Sliding my mouth back to the tip, I suck it again before gliding my tongue over his length, nipping his skin in the process and enjoying how he keeps tugging my hair, lost in this moment with me.
Placing my other hand on his ass, I lightly drag my nails over his skin, and he jerks under my lips, his breathing speeding up, and I mentally prepare for a harder thrust from him.
But instead, he pulls my head back. I have a second to see desire flare on his face, and then he picks me up, pressing me once more against the wall. He tears my bra and panties away before hiking my legs over his hips.
“Tell me,” he orders, but I hear traces of vulnerability in his tone when he burrows his nose into my neck, breathing heavily. I wrap my arms around him tightly.
“I love you,” I say.
He licks my bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth as he presses me harder against the wall, making me feel every rigid muscle.
A moan slips past my lips, and the touch of the tip of his cock against my wet entrance drives me insane, my body firing up from his nearness and demanding him inside me right freaking now.
“Mine and only mine,” he whispers. “You are a woman who should be feasted on.” His lips travel to my chin, nibbling on it lightly before he soothes the sting with his tongue. “No part of your body should be left untouched, lacking attention.” He raises me higher so that his face is level with my breasts and his mouth is on them, sucking the nipple. I cry out in pleasure, lacing my fingers in his hair. “Are you wet for me, my phoenix?” he asks, letting go of my nipple with a loud pop. His fingers slide to my stomach then to my aching core, circling around the clit, grazing it with his knuckles and pressing it lightly, driving me mad with need that consumes me.
I gasp, arching my head and hitting the wall with it. He shifts his attention to the other breast as he probes me with two fingers then spreads my wetness over my heated skin before he sinks them inside me, swallowing my loud groan with his mouth.
The open-mouth kiss is passionate—deep and wet—sending sensations all through me. They concentrate inside me, waiting to erupt, yet not finding enough friction for it.
“What do you want, Cassandra?” He pants against me, sucking roughly on my neck while I rub myself all over him, my hand covering his, pushing his fingers deeper into me, stretching me for him. But it’s still not enough to soothe the inferno inside me. “Tell me.”
Will there ever be a time I will refuse him? He orders, and I instantly comply with it. “Not what… who,” I rasp into his ear, biting on the lobe before digging my nails into his back and dragging him closer to me. “You. Always, only you. Right freaking now.”
He stiffens and then steps closer; there is not an inch left between us. My breasts are squashed against his chest, yet it only intensifies my need, more wetness coating my thighs while he asks teasingly, “Do you want my tongue or my fingers?”
But I shake my head, forcefully pushing his fingers away, and then wrap my palm over his cock. His breath hitches when I bring it to my aching core. “I want you to fuck me hard against the wall, Eudard.”
He freezes in my arms for a fraction of a second, but then his hands clasp my ass cheeks.
That’s all the warning I get before he slams into me, rooting himself deep inside as our mouths brush against each other. Then he pauses a moment while we both bask in this moment of connection.
I can’t even say where I end or he begins; it’s like we are an extension of one another and don’t exist without the other.
“When you are inside me, I feel whole,” I murmur over his shoulder, licking the sweat sliding down his neck and running my fingers over his hair, hoping to show him all the love and warmth I possess so he knows he is loved.
No matter his past or his present, he will always have me by his side.
“Cassandra” is all he whispers, but it holds so much meaning.
Desire, passion, obsession, pain.
And dare I hope… love? Even with my declaration, he doesn't utter the words.
He thrusts into me again, my back hitting the wall, but I welcome the slight pain, because it grounds me in this passion that swallows us both in the haze from where there is no reprieve… only agonizing pleasure that tightens my skin, building tension inside me like a volcano brewing to erupt.
A moan tears from my throat as I welcome each roll of his hips. His fingers dig so hard into my skin they’ll leave bruises; his muscled body holds me so easily, as if I weigh nothing.
But more importantly, all the things are Eudard, a monster who hunts in the night yet loves me so tenderly in the day as the sun beams brightly into the room, gracing us with its presence.
Gripping his hair, I push his head back so our eyes meet. The hunger in his green pools sends electricity down my spine, and I bask in his attention on me. I’m his single focus.
No, he is a madman.
He will go after all of me, no matter what, because I’m his obsession in this life. “Does my phoenix like it?” he asks, slamming into me hard.
I cry out, biting on my lip and murmuring, “Yes.” And then his hands trap mine above my head, lacing our fingers together as he presses deeper and deeper against me, so much that I wonder if we’ll break the wall from the power of his thrusts.
Our mouths collide again while he continues to slam into me, his hard-on stretching me so wide I want to forever imprint this memory in my brain.
Slowly, all thoughts fly away as pleasure crashes over me, wave after wave taking me away while Eudard continues to pound into me in sure strokes that send me into a spiral, higher and higher.
“Please, Eudard,” I beg, desperately needing him in this moment.
He nips and tugs on my bottom lip, murmuring, “Do you want to come, Cassandra?” He rolls his hips back before slamming me hard, stilling inside me for a second, making me feel every inch of his skin and then retreating again, leaving me empty and aching.
“Yes, please,” I ask, and he groans.
One of his hands slides down my stomach and pinches my clit while he thrusts into me. His husky voice breaks goose bumps all over me when he orders, “Then come.” And all of this, followed by another thrust, is enough for me to moan into his mouth. He kisses me and swallows my cries as my pussy clamps around him while the orgasm shakes my body.
Breathing heavily, I arch my back while he slams into me over and over again, his body growing tight in my hold. I slide my hands back to his neck, pushing myself against him, giving him a firm bite on the shoulder, and that’s enough for him to roar next to me, spilling inside me and wrapping his arms so tightly around me it’s hard to breathe.
Does this kind of connection exist between all people or are we just the special ones, granted this gift by the gods?
Sweat drips down our bodies while our heavy breaths mingle. I’m aching all over and could use a shower in this moment.
But instead of voicing any of that, I tighten my hold on my man, not wanting to let him go and break this moment between us.
Eudard must need it too, because he drags us to the bathroom where he places me on the vanity, wets a washcloth, and cleans me up silently, not meeting my stare, and then he takes me back to his room.
He puts me on the bed, rolling me on my side, and then presses flush against me, throwing his arm over me while covering us with a blanket, his heat surrounding me. His soft voice says, “Sleep, Cassandra.” I want to protest, because nothing is resolved between us and it’s daytime. Why would we sleep?
But oddly enough, exhaustion claims my body and I burrow myself firmer into his embrace and slowly let sleep claim me where for the first time in a long while I don't have any nightmares.
Because my monster is lying next to me, ready to slay any demons coming my way.
Eudard
Psychopath, one of my friends and Lachlan’s protégé, once
said to me that patience is a virtue, but too bad for everyone, because he had none.
I always disagreed with his statement, because it’s not a virtue.
The longer we allow something to simmer, the more massive the consequences of our decisions might be.
Patience is a necessity one uses when he wants to achieve something, waiting in the shadows for a prize that has been denied to him for years.
It takes skills, will, and strong hunting abilities to wait and wait for the prey to come to you, falling into your trap where you can sink your claws and teeth into them.
Putting on my leather gloves, I watch as Cassandra sighs in her sleep and then rolls on the pillow, displaying her back to me, covered in my bite marks.
I can still taste her in my mouth, and what better way to go kill someone who hurts what’s mine than while coated in her scent and taste?
The familiar ringing in my ears starts along with the fury that fuels my blood and ignites an inferno inside me, demanding one thing.
Vengeance. Vengeance. Vengeance.
Fisting my hands, I hear the familiar leather sound, and a smile pulls at my lips, when I wonder what her reaction tomorrow will be once she sees me after a fresh kill.
It’s easy to love a crushed soul.
Is it easy to love a monster when he continues his deeds?
Walking toward the bed, I remove the lock of hair from her face, giving her one last long look, memorizing her features before strolling to the door and disappearing into the night, ready to finish it all quickly.
Three people.
Only three more people to kill before I can focus on my mission of a lifetime and end it all.
But first, his decoys will pay for what they have done to my phoenix.
In the vilest of ways.
Chapter Twelve
“Darkness is my salvation.
Revenge is my reward.
Planned with detailed calculation.
Like a touchdown scored. “
Eudard
Eudard, 17 years old
Summer Before Senior Year of High School
Once I’m alone in the room, I close the door to my bathroom and turn on the water, creating other sounds in case there are devices hidden in the walls.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Liam pulled this stunt after he became this… I don’t even know what to call him. Monster is not a big enough word to describe him. Calling him the devil is an offense to the devil himself.
The phone continues to ring and ring in my ear. Why the fuck is no one picking it up?
Finally, a deep voice barks, “Whose ass is on fire?”
Not in the mood for any of Arson’s bullshit at this moment, I cut straight to the chase. “I need to speak with Lachlan.”
“Hello to you too,” he says, and then laughs like it’s fucking funny. “What’s the rush?”
“It’s important. I don’t have time for this.” He must hear something in my tone, because the line goes dead for a second with complete silence greeting me, and I know he is directing the call to Lachlan’s office.
I perch on the edge of the bathtub, shaking with fury and fear while my body is coated in sweat. I thought after endless training with Lachlan I’d never be in such a position again, but once again, other lives depend on me.
One wrong move, even a word, and they might be forever lost, dumped in hell from where anyone rarely gets out.
It’s like time reversed, and once again I’m a scared boy with an evil man ready to strike me wherever I go.
Finally, Lachlan answers, “Talk.”
“Liam’s lost his mind.” That’s all I manage to say, trying to calm enough to explain it all even though explanations just rock me further with fury.
Lachlan waits a beat before asking, his tone dropping a few octaves, “Meaning?”
“He wants to start his father’s business again. He found some partners. And there are kids, Lachlan.” I seethe the last part, barely keeping my voice from rising. “He even got me a gift.” My bitter laughter rocks off the walls. “A girl who claims in Spanish her brother will save her.” It could have been a lie for all I knew.
I don't think any sane man could save her in the current circumstances.
He stays silent through most of my speech, but this gets his attention. “Her name?”
I frown at the urgency in his tone. “I don’t know.”
“Dark hair? Blue eyes? Kidnapped from the park?”
I straighten at his questions, wondering how he knows that. Realistically speaking, I don’t really know if she was kidnapped from the park, but that would make sense for the homeless kids to hang out there. Liam said she tried to save someone. “Most probably yeah, why?”
“No time for explanations. I will send someone there now to help. Kill this guy, Eudard,” he orders, his voice dead, and I know it takes everything in him not to do it himself. “Get me all the information on the partners, and Sociopath will take care of the kids.” I calculate how long it will take for someone to help me, at least the night for their travel, so I will need to keep up the act.
However, he’s not done yet. “Listen to me, Eudard. Under no circumstances cross paths with—” Whatever he wants to say is drowned out by a loud boom that rocks off the walls, making the house rattle and the toiletries drop on the floor and roll around.
Loud screams fill the air, and I get up, flying to the bedroom window, and my eyes widen when I notice that everything is burning.
Fire surrounds the place like someone smeared gunpowder to create a circle of hell all around us.
The guards are running around screaming, some of them dropping on the ground while others tumble over the bodies, and it takes me a moment to realize they must have blown up several cars, because smoking chunks of metal are scattered everywhere.
“What the fuck?” I mutter and only then snap my attention back to the conversation, since Lachlan is calling my name.
“Eudard, fucking answer me.”
Pressing the phone to my ear, I quickly say, “There’s trouble, enemies I think.” Are those business partners who don’t appreciate Liam?
I don’t have time to dwell on it though, because four guys come into view, all wearing black while they march through the fire as a unit, matching each other step for step while firing their guns at anyone who runs in their direction or tries to stop them.
“The four horsemen of the apocalypse.” I’m not sure why this description comes to mind, but it’s like they own all this death, destruction, and war around them.
And they don’t get lost in it. Instead, they thrive in it and present a powerful force that probably nothing can break.
“Eudard, do not—” But I hang up on Lachlan, not having time for this shit.
Whoever these guys are, they came for the kill and not entertainment. And if they destroy the house, it means they came for the most valuable thing in it.
The kids.
I’d rather die than let anyone harm these kids.
Flying through the door, my boots thump heavily on the marble floor as I run down the stairs. Panic is evident inside the house, and everywhere, the staff is screaming.
Liam is nowhere to be found, but I notice Kirk pressing a handkerchief to his mouth because of the smoke slowly seeping into the house. At the rate they’re going, I won’t be surprised if they decide to blow this fucking place to hell.
Good riddance, but only once I get the kids out of here.
I order, addressing Kirk, “Give me the keys to the basement.” If Liam hired him back again, it means everything stays the same, down to his job as the custodian of the kids.
The fucker has the audacity to shake his head. “I work for Liam, and he—” His last words die on a scream when I wrap my hand around his neck and knock him against the wall, making sure to slam his head hard.
Because fuck any decency. He groans and sways a little to the side. I snatch the keys from his pocket and throw him on the floor where he lands with
a loud grunt.
I dash toward the basement and see a guard on the way who is already pointing a gun at me. “Liam gave orders not to save—” He is on the floor before he can finish the sentence. I snap his neck with one swift move.
After taking the gun from him, I quickly reach the basement and clap my hands for the light to come on.
I can hear the cries of the children through the smoke that’s all through the place already. It appears to be slipping in through the cracks. Arson once explained if fire is prepared and laid out properly over the property and along the doors, you will have smoke and panic inside the house without destroying the actual structure.
I’m starting to think that’s what this is all about, but I won’t risk it regardless.
I unlock the cages, shouting at the kids, “Line up at the door in pairs.” Even though their eyes widen, they listen, creating two lines, and finally I reach the last one. The little girl is holding the bars for dear life while still lifting her chin high.
“Come on, niña,” I say, and she blinks when I open the door wide, not making a move to touch her but instead motioning for her to get out of there. “We need to go.”
She stays unmovable, just steps back, while upstairs, panic intensifies, judging by the screams and loud shouts of “Fire, fire! We need to run!”
Cursing inwardly, I scoop her in my arms despite her thrashing and calling me all sorts of offensive names in Spanish. As I run to the stairs, I shout to the children, “Follow me, but don’t rush. I’ll protect you.” I wait for them to nod so they will see assurance on my face; the last thing I need is their fear. They might stumble over each other, and that would make it a difficult task to get them out of here.
Walking swiftly upstairs, I peek through the door. A woman, one of the maids, sits on the floor, her hands covering her ears while tears stream down her face.
Wasn’t she the one who winced during Liam’s speech when she brought coffee to my room? At least she didn’t give me the impression she supports him like everyone else.
