By Way of Pain: Assassins (Criminal Delights Book 12)

by J. M. Dabney

  “I can show you.” I barely pressed my lips to his, but I didn't linger. “I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to give you a sponge bath. You're a bit of a mess.”

  “Do you find me…attractive?”

  Did I? The angles of his face were too harsh. His body was littered with scars and missing flesh. But I loved how the smaller man made me feel when he wanted me.

  “Others have found me disgusting.”

  “You're not disgusting. Scars just showed you survived. Get some sleep…I'll be back soon.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes, but I knew he wouldn't sleep. In all the time I'd spent with him since he'd moved me upstairs, I hadn't noticed him sleep more than a few hours. I eased up off the bed. I felt grimy after days of not bathing and the dried blood on my skin. A long, hot shower would do my aching muscles good. Then I could tend to him, bathe him and change the bloody sheets. First, I needed to take care of myself.

  * * *

  I was exhausted; six days of worry pushed me closer to the edge of collapse. My poor man kept spiking a fever, and I'd have to cool him down. Getting him to take the pills the doctor left was a fight I barely won. I'd found it nearly impossible to keep the man in bed.

  His stitches hadn't survived his stubbornness. I'd found butterfly bandages in his first-aid kit and made do with those. Finally, the skin was knitted back together and left a thick, ridge of irritated scar tissue. He was absolutely the worst patient. I pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead and stretched out beside him. I was too tired to sleep, but I'd discovered I loved watching him. Guilt plagued me as I took advantage of his weakened state. I spread my right hand over his smooth pectorals and reveled in the softness of his skin. His body was so different from my hairier one.

  I traced every scar I could reach, even the deep valleys that he'd explained were from an explosion a former boss had used to take him out. He talked about someone trying to murder him as if the man had simply tried to fire him. I shook my head as the sheet across his hips started to jerk as his cock responded to my touch.

  “You're not up to it.”

  “Boy, you're not in charge here.”

  “Y—yes, sir.” My pulse increased as he slapped my bare hip and the sting sent chills over my body. He shifted on the bed, and seconds later he placed our lube in my hand.

  “Suck me while you stretch yourself.”

  Resistance didn't cross my mind as he threw the sheet from his body. Too many days had passed since I'd felt sir inside me. I was helpless when he used that dominating, guttural voice. I knelt between his legs, slicked my fingers, and quickly swallowed his dick, choking on it in my haste. While I sucked every thick inch to the back of my throat, I started to work my fingers into my hole. I shivered at the burning pressure.

  “My boy got greedy.”

  I whined in answer as my jaw quickly started to ache trying to take the girth. The wet, suckling sounds filled my ears joining the rhythmic rushing of blood. Spit ran from the corners of my lips. I gave it to him rough and sloppy just like I knew he liked. When I gagged around the fat head, he urged me on with a deep gravely rumble.

  “Fuck, boy.” He growled and grabbed the back of my head forcing my face into his groin.

  I couldn't breathe or move. At his roughness, the muscles of my ass clenched around the three fingers I was shoving brutally past the resistance. He finally gave me a reprieve. He jerked me off his cock, and I tried to take him back into my mouth, but his hold on my hair kept me restrained.

  “Open your fucking mouth and stick out your tongue.”

  I did as he ordered without question, and he laid his cockhead on my tongue and stroked in savage strokes.

  “I should punish you for what you do to me.”

  I yelped as he released his dick and he smacked my cheek once, twice and a third time until the side of my face was on fire. He shoved my face against his balls. The scent of him strong and I tried to nuzzle closer to his smooth sac. I should protest, fight him, but my cock only got harder at his feral actions.

  Quickly he shoved me away, and I stared at him, thinking he was done playing with me.

  “Present your ass for me.”

  I was shaking with nerves. I'd seen him in a lot of moods, but something was different. I rolled over, rested my cheek on the bed and opened my cheeks to show him my hole. Seconds drew out, but I didn't move, and then a scream tore out of my throat as he shoved the firm dildo that he'd bought me inside without warning. I dropped my hands to the bed and fisted them in the sheet. I cried and tried to relax as he used the toy on me, brutally without care.

  The erection I had fled quickly and then the toy was gone, and the heat of his thick, long dick was sliding in with absolute care. He deeply groaned. A sigh slipped between my lips as his hips met my hairy ass. He spread his hands across my lower back. The gentleness in comparison to the ferocity of minutes before shocked my system and tears leaked from under my lashes.

  It was different—he loved on my ass in long strokes. My dick was hard again and the wet tip laid on the curve of my belly.

  “Boy.”

  I whimpered as he changed angles and aimed for my gland, I didn't know what to do. How to react, his loving was always rough. I buried my face in the mattress as his calloused hand encircled my cock and jacked me in a pace that matched his hips.

  “Does my boy like it when I'm gentle or—” He slammed forward, and I grunted.

  He retreated in a slow, smooth movement, then slammed forward. It was an agonizing sensation to be empty. I was made to be full of him.

  “I'm going to cum, sir.”

  “Not until I say you do. Do I own you?”

  “Yes, sir. Always.”

  “I own your pleasure. You don't cum without my permission. You were fucking made for me.”

  The intensity of his possession built from loving to the brutal fucking I loved. I lifted my ass higher. My cock repeatedly slapped on my belly. His dirty talk embarrassed me even as he was balls deep.

  “My shy boy knows how to take my cock. Show me, boy.”

  I didn't hesitate as I rocked my hips at a frantic speed as I measured his cock. Our bodies were slamming together. He spanked my hips as I took his cock until my flesh burned with the abuse. Agony and ecstasy coalesced until my release ripped through my balls and seed covered my belly. I yelled as he was gone and I turned to find him staring at me, his gaze cold.

  “I'm sorry, sir, I didn't—”

  He was positioned in front of me, and he held my chin in a hard grip.

  “You didn't listen. Therefore, you don't earn my cum in your ass.”

  I cried at his disappointment as he held his cock in front of my face, stroking it as he stared at me with anger. I didn't have time to react before his cum covered my face. Everything inside me froze as he removed his touch and presence and I heard the bathroom door close. I knelt in the middle of the bed, staring at the dark stained wood and waited.

  It seemed like forever until I heard the shower stop and he opened the door. The water still running in the bathroom. He was naked with his dark hair slicked back from his face.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “When I tell you to do something, boy, you listen. This isn't just about your pleasure. You trust me to know how to keep you happy and safe.”

  He gently cleaned my face, watching me, and I noticed his face looked softer. His body wasn’t tense as if on guard.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don't want to lose you.”

  Before I could answer, he kissed me, then helped me off the bed. He led me to the bathroom where he was filling the tub. I let him take care of me. I barely kept my eyes open as he washed and tended to me. Cleaning my ass with soft strokes inside and out. I enjoyed the dichotomy of his viciousness and tenderness, and he always made sure that I was given everything I needed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cowen

  We were back to the real world of the cabin and penthouse. I observed
Harrison closer over the days since we'd recovered enough to come out of hiding. The few clients I had, I'd transferred to other lawyers in the city using the excuse of being in an accident. The breaks healed and the bruises faded, and it was time to get back to work. I'd taken a freelance job or two, and I didn't like that I had to be away from Harrison. I'd decided this was my last for a while. We needed some time to rebuild the trust between us that was broken when he was taken from me.

  I'd noticed my unusual attachment to him had intensified. When he was out of my sight, I worried and wondered if he was safe. I kept an eye on the cameras I had in both our homes. His safety had become more important than either of my jobs. I didn't know what it was or how to describe the emotions I felt for my boy. It bordered on obsessive.

  Attachment of any kind was the downfall for a man like me. Didn't Cristo taking Harrison from me prove that it was safer to set him free? The thought pained me. I still felt no remorse or empathy for anyone or anything, except for him. I still punished him when he broke my rules. I loved on and fucked him several times a day.

  He begged for my whip or flogger. He was the perfect counter for my depraved nature. He was sweet and…loving, I could see the odd emotions in his gaze when I found him watching me. Someone loved me, even knowing what and who I was. He had no reservations about telling me repeatedly that he was mine. I didn't know how to keep him. My own parents couldn't get rid of me fast enough, and I hadn't given a second thought to the moment I killed them. I felt it was only a matter of time that he went the way of everyone else in my life who claimed to care.

  I'd taken care of my job—they wanted a public execution. I'd eliminated my target as he'd given a speech about some monstrosity of steel and glass, and then I'd laid low for a few days before starting the twelve-hour trip home. I called or texted him every hour or two, just to hear his voice.

  I'd made him lie in our bed and get off as I listened to him on the phone, watched him on my laptop. My cock ached thinking about him, and I was helpless to resist him. I was suddenly a slave to my body’s response to him. He never protested—always so quick to submit.

  I connected the call to him.

  “Are you on your way home?”

  “Does my boy miss me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you been fucking yourself with your toys without my permission?”

  “Yes, sir, you know I have. You watch me on the cameras.”

  I was shocked by the pull at the corners of my mouth as he made me smile. The first few times it happened I’d had to stare into the mirror as the lines beside my eyes deepened, and I looked almost normal. His bratty behavior should anger me, but I knew why he did it. He willfully disobeyed me just so I would take him in hand.

  “How was your business trip?”

  It surprised me that he asked about my work as if it was any other out of town business meeting. “Successful.”

  “As always. Did you get me a present?”

  “Do you think you deserve one after giving yourself orgasms? Do I need to start making you wear your cock cage again when I'm away?”

  “No, sir, you know I don't like it.”

  “It's punishment, boy, you're not supposed to like it.”

  I heard his disgruntled little huff and knew exactly what he looked like when he did it. The way his full lips became poutier. I remember every bad thing in my life, the face of every victim. The ability to remember anything and everything had always seemed more of a curse than a blessing. That was until I'd met Harrison.

  “You're quiet. Have you been eating and sleeping?”

  “You're not around to take care of me, boy.”

  “When are you going to be home? I can make you something to eat.”

  I still didn't enjoy food or anything, it was just something I had to do to survive, but I ate and slept because it made my boy happy. While I took care of him, guided him when needed, he took pride in taking care of me as well.

  “I'll be home in about six hours, and this will be my last trip for a while.”

  “Really, sir, are you sure?”

  “I feel that I need to stay close to home. You've been displaying some anxiety and having nightmares. We need to rebuild trust and get you grounded. I can't do that while I'm away.”

  “I'd like that, sir.”

  I heard the honesty in his words. He liked it when I was around. He sought me for comfort, even if it was just to place his head on my knee as I worked at home or in the office. When I'd order him to suck my cock, he greedily did as I said. When he was anxious, I let him suck to soothe himself like a boy sucking his thumb to fall asleep. His head resting on my thigh and I'd run my fingers through his soft hair. He asked for so little, and I thought I didn't have enough to keep him happy, but every day he proved me wrong.

  “I want you to go get ready, bathe, stretch yourself and put your plug in and be waiting in our bed for me when I get home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is my slutty boy ready for his sir's cock?”

  A broken moan filled the interior of my car.

  “Yes, sir. The toys you bought me don't fill my ass like you do.”

  “And they never will. Be ready, boy.”

  I disconnected the call and opened the app for the cameras to make sure my boy was getting ready for me. He was naked per my rules. He was never to wear clothes in our homes. I should always have access to him. He never denied me. He was always prepped and stretched with a plug in when we were at home, and sometimes I even made him wear it at work. If I wanted to fuck my boy, I didn't want to wait to be balls deep in his ass.

  He was never to hide from me. I demanded him to be vocal even in the office. I didn't care if someone came in and knew I was using my boy. I owned every inch of him. As far as I was concerned, he'd be mine until one of us drew our last breath. I was just unsure of how to tell him that. I knew the words that were expected. I'd just never said them before, these odd feelings I had had to mean I loved him.

  I'd tried to say it so many times, but the words always stuttered on the tip of my tongue. I'd never felt insecure about anything, I'd accepted myself for how I was born, but he made me want to be different for him. The rest of the world didn't matter to me. I didn't care what anyone thought of me except him. I wondered if he felt similarly to me, but he showed me he was mine—that he cared, but he'd yet to confess more in words. It was all in his acts of submission and care.

  Love was such an odd concept. To feel more for someone than you do for yourself. That you put someone's happiness and comfort ahead of your own. I'd taken him to study the strangeness of humanity. To analyze emotional clues and in doing so, I'd opened myself to something beyond my own embraced depravity. Yes, I caused him pain, but only to teach him, to let him know that I cared about his safety. I fucked him because his actions showed me that he needed my possession. The satisfaction I received from providing for him was almost as fulfilling as owning his body.

  I wanted to give him something to show him that he was mine. On the trip home, I debated what would be perfect for him. In my gut, I knew he'd appreciate whatever reward I gave him. I was in strange territory. I was still lost and confused about the newness, and my brain refused to stop analyzing it. Decades of habit weren't wiped away in a matter of weeks or months. Before Harrison, my life was simple. It was all about the kill and keeping the halves of my life separated.

  He changed that. He existed on both sides. The first person I'd trusted and the possibility of his betrayal loomed. Hope was an alien thing, but part of me tried to reach for it—hold onto it. I refused to give him up. I'd killed for him and would do so again if the need called for it.

  I pulled off onto an exit to stop for gas and then I would get straight home to my boy.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Harrison

  Cowen was making me nervous. He was normally quiet, but he'd grown even more silent over the weeks. His security measures tightened with extra cameras and sensors. When
he asked what I wanted for a reward, I'd told him that I wanted to come back to the diner.

  I tried not to laugh at the stiffness of his body as if he were waiting for an attack or more aptly to attack. He wouldn't even touch the menu.

  “You promised.”

  “Boy, I said I'd take you to dinner. I did not say I would enjoy it.”

  I was about to pout until Freda came to the table.

  “Do you know how worried I was?” Freda fussed and was about to cuff me on the back of the head until Cowen cleared his throat.

  When we were out together, he always put himself between me and other people. No one was ever given the opportunity to touch me. “I'm sorry. I just needed time to myself.” I'd told the lie enough that it came easily to me.

  “I see you found yourself a young man while you were away.”

  She started to hug me, and the sound of him making that sound in his throat grew louder. She didn't seem to pick up on it and gave me her usual embrace she reserved for regulars. I'd missed coming here. When my mother passed away, this had become the place where I could spend an hour or two just to feel less alone.

  “Freda, Cowen, Cowen, Freda.”

  “Your asshole boss?”

  I shot a glance at him just in time to catch the lift of one of his heavy brows and the look he gave me promised punishment later.

  “He's nicer than I first thought.” The lesson I'd get when we returned home flashed through my mind, and I shivered. It had nothing to do with fear.

  “Your usual, what about you?” she asked him.

  “Same.”

  “Oh…kay. I'll be right back with drinks.” She picked up the menus and left us alone.