Chasing Sergei: Dark Romance

by Aubrey Collins

  What if they escaped? If they did, she doubted that her life would ever be the same again. She could never go back to her life. She couldn’t imagine trying to live a normal, stable, traditional life after what she had been through over the last few days. That wouldn’t be possible. That life would never fulfill. Dante had allowed her to taste a different side of life. Her only regret was that she hadn’t discovered this kind of life earlier. She would follow Dante everywhere he went. She was more than willing to stand behind him and follow his lead. She was also ready to stand at his side when necessary.

  She couldn’t help worrying about whether or not Dante would actually want her around. If they got out of this situation, he would probably return to the Brotherhood. She wasn’t sure whether or not she could handle life in that sort of rowdy, testosterone driven environment. And what worried her, even more, was that she had never seen Dante in that environment. She had no idea how he would act once he was around his brothers. He might transform into a completely different person, she feared. He might try to hide the tender, vulnerable part of his personality that he had revealed to her. In front of his brothers, he might transform into some macho asshole.

  She sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling. She wished that she could enjoy the journey that they were on together. There was no telling how long it would last. If they did manage to escape, slip the noose that became tighter and tighter around their necks, then she was determined to live the rest of her life wild and free.

  Chapter 25

  Dante stood over the hotel bed staring down at Taylor's deliciously nude body, which glistened with sweat. She was breathing slowly, providing lifting subtly from the bed, then falling back Platt's. He licked his lips. He looked forward to ravishing her, covering her body with passionate, full-blooded kisses.

  He fixed his eyes on the black gun, which lay between her thighs. He was towards the table where you left the gun. It was gone.

  He moved closer to the bed, closer to the wet puddle they could see just in front of her vagina. He picked up the piece of black metal and stared at it. There was a strange residue on the barrel. He brought the weapon closer to his face. A strange scent made his eyes spring wide open. He sniffed. She had left a sweet aroma on the metal. It tickled his nostrils and set his brain on fire. He swirled his tongue around the barrel of the gun, sighing as he tasted her nearly dried juices. Delicious!

  He looked down towards the spread legs, the wet, gaping cunt. She had been playing with his weapon, pushing it inside of her, fucking it, sucking it. His cock throbbed with desire. A death-defying, electric, untamed adrenaline surged through his veins. She had been so hungry for his cock that she had dared to play a dangerous, silly, but extremely erotic game with his weapon. It wasn’t the first time that he had left a gun with a woman. But it was certainly the first time that one of them had done something like that.

  After putting the gun back on the table, he began undressing. He kept his eyes on her face. So serene and beautiful! She seemed to be floating on a cloud of post-orgasmic bliss.

  Her body stirred on the bed. He stripped down butt naked. His hard cock pointed straight into the air. It was pulsating, leaking pre-calm, hungry for a taste of Taylor's strawberry sweet pussy.

  She stirred again, rolling onto her side and facing him. Her eyes opened slowly. They held a glazed yet contented look. Dante licked his lips and began to stroke his cock, back and forth, up and down, brushing his fingers lightly against the large, mushroom top head, using the other hand to begin rubbing around the rim of his ass hole, tickling and teasing those soft, sensitive lips.

  Taylor slid her hand between her thighs, then closed her eyes and began rubbing her clit. Dante smiled and tugged harder. Her fingers strummed at a slow, steady pace. He waited for her to go faster and harder, waited for her to scream and howl in pleasure. But she resisted those dramatizations. Instead, she maintained her slow, steady, gently rhythmic pace.

  Dante took his fingers away from his asshole. He was hard and wet and ready to go. If this was going to be the last night that they spent together, the last night that their souls and seminal fluids would intermingle, then he wanted to receive a wonderfully deep and sloppy, orgasmic prostate massage.

  Taylor moaned. With her thumb, she strummed her clit, while pushing multiple fingers in and out of her cunt. The penetrating fingers made a wet, juicy, delicious sound as they pushed in and out of her. She moaned again.

  “Dante,” she said, mouth half-open, eyes closed. “No man has ever made me…feel…like…this.” Her voice trailed off

  He continued to stroke, eyes open wide, staring at her. He held his breath, waiting for her to continue. He could feel a tangle of words and emotions getting jumbled in his brain and stuck in his throat.

  Her mouth closed, then opened again. She sighed. “Dante…I…”

  He swallowed hard, then kneeled down by the bed. He looked directly at her. Tears trickled from his eyes. He moved his lips towards hers and gently kissed her on the lips.

  She finished her sentence, “...Love you.”

  Chapter 26

  Gus was laying on a concrete floor. He’d already taken several kicks to his head and ribs. The two bullets were still inside of him, burning his torn flesh.

  A man in a dark suit and sunglasses stood over him. “You don’t look so good, Gus. Not good at all.”

  “Fuck you,” Gus struggled to say, gathering all the strength that he could muster to hold on to his last bit of dignity. If they were going to kill him, then so be it. If they were going to let him die, then so be it. But he was determined, no matter what, to die with honor. That's how he had lived—or at least tried to. He wouldn’t make the Brotherhood ashamed in his final moments. He especially wanted to make Big Momma, Baby Girl, and Dante proud.

  “AWWWWWWWWW!!!!” Gus screamed as a foot swung into his ribs. He coughed and coughed. Blood shot out of his mouth.

  “HAHAHAHAHAHA!” The sadistic bastard standing over him began laughing uncontrollably, cackling like a demon.

  Gus looked down at the puddle of blood that he had just spit out. It seemed to get larger and larger. Maybe he was losing his mind, hallucinating. He felt like he was staring at his death. He could feel the last bits of energy leaving his body. It felt a strange peace spreading throughout. It wouldn’t be long now…His suffering was almost over. Dying without revealing the passwords that would allow these assholes to hack into the Brotherhood’s computer networks would be his last act of defiance, in a life that had been lived defiantly. It would be his final and ultimate act of loyalty to the Brotherhood.

  “Let me make this real simple for you,” the bastard said after he had finally calmed his laughter. “Real simple. You turn over all of the Brotherhood’s passwords and this terrible day will be over for you. There’s an emergency room a few blocks away. If we get there soon, they will probably be able to save you.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “AWWWWWW!” Gus screamed as another hard kick landed to his ribs. “Kick me, beat me. Do whatever the fuck you want! I ain’t telling you——”

  “AWWWWWW!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Gus. I really am. I guess that means that I’ll have to get rid of the older one first. What do you think about that?”

  “What?”

  “Or maybe the younger one. I’m not sure. Which one do you think, I should put out of their misery first?”

  “Just go and do it, you fucking coward.”

  “You talk tough for a man that can’t even stand up.”

  “Don’t worry, asshole. I’ll be able to stand just fine when I see you in Hell.”

  “Whatever say, old man. I’m going to check in on your female friends. Don’t go anywhere, OK? Hahahahaha.”

  Gus gritted his teeth and clenched his fists with rage. His blood boiled with testosterone and adrenaline. He wanted revenge, in either this life of the next.

  He was also trying to confirm that he
did, in fact, have a little bit of strength and masculine courage still left in him. His blood boiled with testosterone and adrenaline. He wanted revenge, in either this life or the next. He tried to raise himself off the concrete but he didn’t have the strength. He groaned. Everything hurt. It felt like blood was coming out of every part of his body, slowly draining the life force out of him.

  He looked down at his blood-stained jeans. His eyes open wide. The knife! It was a holster around his calf. He pulled up his pant leg and pulled out the 9” knife. He held it in front of his face and smiled for the first time, in what felt like forever. This was his chance. He wasn’t dead yet. He thought of his Brother’s back on the coast. He thought of Big Momma and Baby Girl being dragged to the gates of hell in the next room. He thought of Dante who had been like a son to him for so long…

  This wasn’t how he wanted his life to end. There was no telling where these thugs would dispose of his body. He would have just been disappeared from the face of the earth. Time would pass and the memories of him would fade.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” He said to himself convulsively. He was losing his grip on sanity, slowing sliding into madness. It had been several hours since he had anything to eat or drink. His mouth had gone dry. He tried to fill his mouth with saliva. He swallowed hard.

  Big Momma and Baby Girl were being tortured less than one hundred feet away from him…and there’s nothing he can do, except wallow on a concrete floor, two badly bandaged bullet wounds, one in his shoulder and the other in his thigh. Slowly bleeding.

  The knife was his only hope. But he wouldn’t even be able to use it if he couldn’t muster more strength. He had to get back onto the couch. That would give him a great opportunity to strike. He would let the bastard walk up really close…he would have to quick, decisive, fearless. He would only have seconds to strike. If he failed, they would all be dead. If he failed, there was no telling what atrocities these savages would commit on Big Momma and Baby Girl. They would both most likely die a slow, painful, and torturous death.

  He fingers strangled the blade handle. He would plunge it into the tormentor’s throat, twist and turn and cut him clean, slitting veins, making blood shoot like a fucking geyser.

  He had to get back onto the couch. It was only a few feet away. But it as still going to take nearly every ounce of his remaining energy in order to hoist himself up. He looked down towards a pool of blood and saliva. What a disgusting mess. The bandages were no longer stopping the bleeding. He pulled the one back on his shoulder. It was red and raw. and pulsating.

  Only two blocks away from an Emergency Room? He didn't believe them. But he knew that if he could just get out of that warehouse, could just get back into the street, into the daylight, he would find somebody to help them. He would scream, then collapse in a bloody heap. People would rush towards him. Someone would call an ambulance, police. It wouldn’t be hard to follow the trail a blood back to those cobble-stone side street and into the warehouse/art gallery space. And if it wasn’t too late, if all the blood hadn’t drained from his weary body, the doctors would save him, patch him back up, allow him to live the last years of his life in peace, happily ever after.

  It was a long shot. Damn near impossible. He could pass out from exhaustion and bleed out at any moment. At any moment, his eyes could roll into the back of his head, his heart could stop beating, pulse stop pulsating. And that would be it.

  Gus gritted his teeth as he tried to raise himself from the floor and get back onto the couch. A few more grunts and groans and he was finally able to get half of ass onto the couch. He smiled and panted. He reached out with his foot and pulled the knife towards him. He reached down and picked it up.

  He fixed his eyes on the door.

  Chapter 27

  Taylor sat on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. She rocked back and forth with fearful eyes, following Dante as he moved around the hotel, every few minutes pulling back the curtain and looking left, then right, up, then down.

  She hated seeing him like that: the knitted brow, the mumbling under his breath, the intense, fire-breathing look in his eyes. This wasn't how she wanted to live. After this day, she hoped it was over one way or another.

  It was 7 PM. Two hours before Dante was supposed to be at Chelsea Piers.

  Taylor could no longer bite her tongue. “Have they called you back yet?” She asked.

  He continued pacing, staring down at the floor or up at the ceiling, eyes intensely focused.

  “What are we going to do if they don’t call?” She asked.

  He stopped and slowly turned his head towards her. His eyes pierced her soul. She trembled. No man’s gaze had ever touched her so deeply.

  He shook his head from side to side. “No. Nothing.”

  He had two phones in his hand. He stared at both of them, then sighed.

  She wanted to ask another question. She wanted to ask so many more questions…but she decided not to, figuring that it would be best to remain quiet, to let him work through this. She would be there by his side or behind him. Vocal or silent. She would give him whatever he needed.

  She could taste death. She could smell it. She could feel it. Death had marched them into that wooded area north of Manhattan. Death had licked its lips and sharpened its knives.

  She no longer feared for herself, at least not nearly as much as she had before. She wasn’t afraid to die as long as she and Dante were together. Despite that courage swelling in her chest, she still felt a sharp, excruciating pain when she thought about never seeing her parents again.

  She was their only child. If something terrible happened to her, how would they even find out? Would they ever find out? Would her name just be added to some huge list of names of people who vanished, never to be heard from again? And they would know instantly that something terrible had happened.

  They would spend the rest of their days hurting, their plaintive tears unable to fill the huge hole in their heart. Taylor began to tremble. Tears flooded her cheeks. She was no longer afraid for herself. But she was terrified of how her parents would be able to deal with their loss. She was ashamed of the pain that she could end up causing them.

  Her chest grew tighter as her breathing became faster. She buried her head in between her legs. A moment later she felt a soft kiss on her neck. And then another one.

  She smiled and raised her head, sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes. Dante stared directly at her. His eyes were full of love and compassion.

  “I know this is tough,” he said. “But I need you to be strong. Really strong. We’re going to pull through this. I promise you.”

  “Are we?” She asked breathlessly, wanting to believe him, wanting to feel his confidence in his energy. It wasn't about his words at that moment. It was about the look in his eyes. It was about his loving touch. That's what she needed to feel. She would believe it. She would go wherever he wanted her to go. But she just wanted to know that he truly believed the words that he spoke. She needed to know that he wasn't just saying them to make her feel better.

  “And if it goes well, what will do next?” She asked.

  “Not if it goes well,” Dante said. When it goes well we’re going to head out west one way or another with Gus, Big Momma, and Baby Girl.”

  “Should we call the police?” She asked. “Isn’t this too dangerous?”

  He put his hands on both her shoulders and stared directly at her. His lip quivered with rage. She could see the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes.

  “I told you that I was going get us out of this,” he said. “Have I ever lied to you before?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you trust me to get us out of this situation?”

  She nodded up and down. They stared at each other in silence. Taylor wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her.

  He brought his lips close to her ear. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

 
; Chapter 28

  Gus had been standing behind the door for the past 10 minutes. He could feel the energy draining out of him. He tightly gripped the knife. He couldn’t wait to slide the sharp blade across that bastard’s neck. But Gus wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. He knew that he desperately needed to get to the hospital. He had already lost too much blood. His head was light and spinning. The pain from bullets made him feel like he was burned with a hot iron. He needed that sadistic bastard to hurry back into the room with his arrogant face. Gus couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes as the blood began to shoot from his neck, spurting in several different directions, painting the walls and soaking the floor.

  But he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. For a moment he thought about going back over to the couch and trying to launch his attack from there. He could play possum, let his tormentor approach naively, his defenses lowered…

  Footsteps! Only one set of them. They stomped towards the door. Closer and closer. Gus gripped the knife. Close and closer. He gritted his teeth, then closed his eyes. This was it. Closer. The moment that he had been waiting for. Closer. He would make the Brotherhood proud.

  The footsteps veered off into another direction!

  “Fuck.”

  The knife dropped from his hand.

  Footsteps!

  They came towards the door.

  Gus grunted, groaned, and grimaced as he bent to pick up the knife. Closer and closer. He reached out for it.

  Awwwwww! He yelled. He touched the bullet wound in his shoulder. The white bandage was completely blood stained. And the painkillers they had given him, whatever they were, had worn off.

  The footsteps were only a few feet away. Gus finally got his fingers around the handle of the knife. He picked it up and got back into the killing position, behind the door.