Fuck.
I leaned my head down, my lips brushing against her cheek as I whispered, “You like the pain.” I knew it for a fact; I could feel her back arching beneath me, could feel her body squirming, not trying to get away, but trying to get more. More from me.
My grip on her neck loosened, allowing her to breathe in a lungful of air. The blood from the small cut on her neck had rubbed onto my fingers; it wasn’t deep enough to bleed like a waterfall, like the carotid artery usually did if you sliced deep. She looked at me then, those eyes begging me for more as she said, “Sometimes pain is the only thing reminding me I’m still alive.”
Her words struck a chord with me, and I found I could not speak right away. Pain was the only thing reminding her she was still alive. I… it was wrong, but I felt the same sometimes. Life was so dull, so dreary and monotone without it. Without pain, how could you truly revel in the pleasure? How could you come to appreciate everything life had to offer if you were unaware of how much hurt could come with it?
“You want to hurt me, Maddox?” Lola purred out my name, causing even more heat to gather in my midsection. My balls ached for a release, my cock full of a desperate need to be inside of her. “Then hurt me. Hurt me like I hurt your brother.” A challenge in no uncertain terms. She must’ve known bringing up Mario would make me rage even more, and it did, for my fingers curled around her throat once more and began to squeeze.
All those days of trying to rid my mind of this one, seeking to stop myself from thinking about her constantly… it was all for nothing. Lola was in my brain, nestled deep, and she would not come out unless I tore her out of it myself.
I’d never been caught up in my own head before, not about a girl. Not like this. There was nothing else to compare it to, nothing in my past that gave me experience when it came to wanting to both kill and fuck someone so badly. Usually, it was one or the other. Not both.
I took the switchblade, leaning off her enough to drag it between us. Her satin shirt was held together by buttons, and I caught the sharp end on the topmost button near her collarbone, my eyes locking with hers as I dragged it down, cutting through the buttons one by one until that shirt hung open for me.
Her chest rose and fell, her tits held back by a black bra—I cut through that, too. The switchblade was remarkably good at cutting through clothes, just as it was at cutting through skin. Soon enough, her top half lay beneath me, naked, her nipples nothing more than hardened points on her tits.
I only released my hold on her neck so I could get a better view of her. It was then I saw it: a big, thick scar traveling downward from her belly button, disappearing beneath the waistband of her shorts. A scar like that… I knew my way well enough around knives to know something like that wasn’t from a cut. No knife could make something that huge, a scar that thick.
No, a scar like that only came from one thing.
Surgery.
It would seem little miss murderously perfect wasn’t so perfect after all. I didn’t know why, but I knew I should feel relieved at that; however, I didn’t. It wasn’t relief that flooded through me when I gazed at that huge scar in the moonlight… I didn’t know what I felt.
Confused? Angry? Curious? All of the above, maybe. I wanted to know what it was from, what it was for, if that scar was the reason Lola was on her own. A girl with her looks, I doubted she was alone on purpose. Someone with a face like that was always surrounded by friends or family or men who hoped to get in her pants.
I said nothing about the scar as I sat up, bringing the switchblade to it. Lola watched me, though she said nothing. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths, and I trailed the flat edge of the switchblade down her stomach. The moment the steel touched that scar, her eyes shut and she turned her face away.
“Where’d you get this?” I asked, unable to stop the husky tone from taking over my voice. I wanted to cut open her shorts and tear into her body in more ways than one. If that made me a maniac, a psycho, then so be it; I didn’t care.
“You are truly mad if you think I’m going to spill my whole life story to you right now,” Lola muttered, her eyes still closed, though a frown did grace her lips. “If you’re going to kill me, kill me. If you just want to hurt me, hurt me. Use that knife or don’t—” Finally, those eyes opened again, and she was slow to sit up, her bottom half trapped beneath mine. “—I don’t care.”
I said nothing, letting her words sink in, wondering just how damaged this girl was to stare a thing like me in the eyes and hardly blink. What made others fearful she didn’t seem to mind one bit.
Lola reached for my face, saying nothing more as she leaned in. Her fingers found the half of my head that had a few inches of hair on it, weaving in its strands, tugging not so gently. Her breath was hot on my face for only a moment before those lips found mine, before she kissed me and only further confused me.
What the fuck was I doing here? This was nothing but asking for trouble, and what’s worse, I tended to love trouble a bit too much.
Right when I lost myself in the kiss, in its tempting slowness, Lola’s teeth found my lip, and before I realized what she was doing, she bit down, pierced the skin of my lower lip with her teeth. Like a vampire, she made me bleed, made me taste my own metal twang, just as I’d done to her before. Not going to lie, my dick throbbed at that, as the pain shot outward from her bite.
Lola withdrew herself, laying back down, breathing a little harder now, her mouth stained with my blood. The wound on her neck trickled slowly, looking like nothing more than a peculiarly-placed papercut.
With her tits exposed, with her stomach bared to me, the blood dotting her lip and lining her throat… she was fucking beautiful. I didn’t think, not once in my life, I had ever seen a sight that made me ache with this type of longing before. I never knew I could find a woman this attractive.
Bloodied, wild, and dangerous. She watched me expectantly, waiting for me to make my next move, to back up my words with action. To hurt her, to kill her, to do something that made those eyes less emotionless. I wanted her so fucking bad, and I hated it. I hated how much I wanted her.
But, that said, I was so fucking horny I might just explode.
Instincts took over me, and I took the switchblade to her side, digging it between the satin pajama shorts and her skin, yanking it down to tear the fabric. One side and then the other in the same way; the action caused the knife to dig into her hips a bit, making her bleed, but she didn’t even flinch.
In fact, I caught her grinning with my blood still dotting her mouth.
I licked my lip, swallowing down the metal taste as I leaned over her, watching her reaction when the switchblade danced across the small triangle of shaved skin just above her pussy. I heard her breathing hitch, and I couldn’t help but smile as I kept pushing the flat edge lower. When it grazed the lips of her cunt, Lola let out the softest moan I’d ever heard.
She liked to play dirty. Oh, I could give her fucking dirty.
Scooting my head down, I stopped when I was between her open legs, staring at her folds through the darkness. I lightly ran the switchblade closer to her entrance, knowing just the wrong amount of pressure could cut her; she knew it, too. And, hell, maybe that’s what she wanted, for me to tear her up.
Right now, though, all I could think about was how she tasted, so I was going to find out.
I removed the switchblade from her apex, bringing my face to it with no trace of hesitation. My tongue flicked out, and I drew a slow line from her entrance to her clit, hearing her stifle a moan. I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing her beg.
My mouth latched onto her clit, and I flicked it with my tongue, sucking and licking. Her body started to spasm beneath me, her thighs twitching with my assault, but that only made me work harder, eager to hear her cry out. How could you possibly be emotionless when your body was racked with pleasure?
Because she was a kinky freak, because I held onto the switchblade still, I decided to put it to good use. I swi
tched the way I was holding it; instead of gripping the handle, I held onto the blade. The steel cut into my fingers a bit, but I didn’t care. With my mouth still locked firmly on her clit, I pushed the handle of the switchblade into her cunt.
The sound she made right then almost made me explode in my pants. Good fucking thing it didn’t; I wanted to be inside her when I came.
Sucking her clit, I fucked her with the switchblade’s handle, using my free hand to grip one of her thighs and pry her legs as open as they could go. Her whole body trembled, shuddering and tensing as I picked up speed with the knife. She was wet enough to take it, though with how rough the handle was, she might have a sore pussy in the morning. Did I care? No. She’d take whatever the fuck I gave her, and she’d like it.
And, judging from the sounds that came out of her lungs, she liked it a whole lot.
Suddenly Lola’s back arched, her clit swollen with my mouth’s attention, the sounds of her slick coating the knife’s handle rising in the air. I knew she was about to come, knew the orgasm I’d built deep within her was seconds from crashing down and spreading through her like a tsunami. I could pull back, I could stop, refuse her body its release and make her yearn for it, but the damnedest thing happened: I didn’t.
I didn’t pull back, I didn’t stop. When I felt her body shaking, when I heard her lungs cry out for breath, I kept going, fucking her harder with the knife, swirling my tongue around that mound of sensitive flesh with nothing but eagerness. Fuck it all to hell, I wanted to hear her, to feel her come.
So that’s what I did.
Lola’s voice was nothing but a strangled cry of bliss when the orgasm swept over her, her thighs clenching around my head, her cunt tightening around the knife handle, as if not wanting me to pull it out.
Sadly, I had to—but only so I could shove my dick in there instead.
Licking my lips, I still tasted a bit of my own blood as I pulled out the switchblade from her pussy and lifted my mouth off her clit. Lola appeared to be completely unraveled, breathing hard, her skin on fire against mine. She might be my brother’s murderer, but she was fucking hot, and I couldn’t help myself, apparently.
I worked on my belt, yanking it off. I dropped the switchblade, only to bring my belt to her neck, wrapping it around that slender thing but keeping it loose, for now. Next were my pants. I didn’t take them off completely, but I got them far enough down my legs for them to be out of the way. My thick cock sprung free, precum dripping off its tip. I was sure cum stained my pants, having been so hard for so long already. During the process, I got blood on almost everything.
This girl. What the fuck was she doing to me? A question I didn’t know whether or not I’d ever get the answer to. Then again, did it matter? Right now, she was mine. Mine in every fucking way, her cunt dripping wet for me and whatever I deemed necessary to give to her. Pleasure, pain; it didn’t matter. She’d take it all like the greedy bitch she was.
And I loved it.
As I positioned my cock at her entrance, drips of blood dotting its length from the cuts on my hand, I felt her wetness help ease me in. I grabbed the belt I’d fastened to her neck and pulled on it, snapping the leather tight around her. I filled her up, nearly losing myself immediately.
Lola’s eyes were open and on me, her lips parted. Her hands found my sides, nails digging into my flesh, as if wordlessly asking me what the hell I was waiting for.
This time… this particular fuck was different than our other time on the couch. That time, I’d merely wanted to prove to her that she meant nothing, that we owned her in every way and that she was not the one in control here. But this time? Tonight, things were different. Tonight, I’d come to hurt her, maybe to kill her and apologize to my family later, but things hadn’t turned out like that.
Her brand of crazy was sexy as all hell, her body tempting as fuck, and I needed it all. I needed her, no matter how wrong it was.
As my hips thrust, pushing my length into her roughly, I pulled on the belt, choking her a bit as I hissed, “I hate you.” It was true. I hated this girl with all my heart. I hated her, and yet I wanted her at the same time, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
Ugh, these fucking confusing as fuck feelings. Why couldn’t they take a hike and get the fuck out of here?
“I know” was all Lola was able to say in between my choking and my thrusting. She said no more, her soft moans disappearing beneath my loud, primal grunting. Her pussy milked my cock like it was made for it, sweet and tight and wet and everything I wanted. Everything I shouldn’t want.
When I felt myself start to lose it, when I felt the pleasure building inside, my balls tightening, I pulled on the belt again, causing her to shut her eyes and part her lips. She looked like she was in ecstasy, even if she couldn’t breathe. I pumped into her hard, in quick, rapid thrusts, my rage and hate fueling my orgasm to a finish.
It came over me with unmatched power, the orgasm so strong and so violent I nearly collapsed on top of her as it surged through me. Not at all like the orgasms I’d gotten from Mina lately, or anyone else. This felt so much better, so much stronger.
I leaned my forehead against hers, losing my grip on the belt, loosening its hold on her neck as I let go of it, too lost in my own bliss, the high that came just after. I felt… I felt like I could either own the world or destroy it. I felt like I could do almost anything.
My dick still inside her, Lola leaned her face up, licking my lips and causing a shot of pain to spread from where she bit me. I glared down at her, my initial instinct to strangle her, but when she lay her head back down, her blonde hair nothing but a wild halo around her head, I knew. I knew it right then and there.
I might hate her, I might want her dead, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her, because I wanted her too much, and that—that made me hate myself even more.
Saying nothing, I pulled away from her, getting to my feet as I stuffed my cock away and zipped up my pants. I didn’t take my belt back, figuring I’d leave it. If I went back down there, if I touched her more, I’d be liable to spend all night in here, fucking her, and that would only lead to more complications.
I took one long, last look at her naked, exposed body, my belt tied around her neck. I’d picked up the switchblade, feeling its handle wet with her slick. Blood still dripped from my hand, a bit of it having fallen on Lola’s tits during the fucking, dark maroon splattered on her pale skin. I hadn’t hurt her nearly as much as I’d wanted to, and now… now I couldn’t think about anything other than fucking that tight cunt some more.
Saying nothing, I turned to leave the room. After fumbling with the lock in the darkness, I threw open the door and stormed out, past Viper, who stood there glaring. I went to my room, locked myself inside even though I should really wash my hand off to clean the blood and the wound from holding the switchblade, but I didn’t. Instead, I lifted that switchblade and inhaled.
God, she even smelled good.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
A lot, as it turned out, because after sniffing the knife, I had a hard cock again. This time, I had to take care of it with a bloody hand.
Fuck Lola. Fuck her in so many ways.
Chapter Eleven – Lola
Viper came in, flipping on the light with no regard to how much it would blind me. I scowled as I sat up, lifting both eyebrows at him as I asked, “Really? It’s, like, way too late to have a light on, for fuck’s sake.”
Relief flooded Viper’s features before he turned the big light off, shutting the door before moving to the lamp at my bedside and turning that little, smaller fucker on instead. His tattooed body was beside mine the next instant, studying me as I sought to get the belt off from around my neck.
He was concerned for me, I knew, but soon enough the concern morphed into something else when he realized I was naked, that my clothes were literally hanging off my body because Maddox had cut into them, tearing them to shreds with that knife.
Which he t
hen fucked me with. That was definitely a new one, though I couldn’t say it was awful…
My neck prickled when I pulled the belt off it, where I’d pushed myself into his switchblade. I was fairly certain I had some cuts on my sides too, from when he cut off my shorts, but I didn’t bother to look down, too busy staring into Viper’s hazel eyes. His brown hair was slicked back, as it always was, his serpent tattoos seeming to slither along his arms in the dim light. His gaze, I noticed, was not lingering anywhere it would be appropriate to.
Meaning he was staring at my tits. Since I was sitting up, there wasn’t much to look at in the downstairs department, but my tits? Oh, they were out, they were free, and my nips were pointy pebbles right now. Obviously, I was still turned on after that whole thing, even if I did have blood on me.
Yeah, I was a kinky gal, so what?
“See something you like?” I asked, sitting there with my body bared. My hands were on the carpet, though one of them held onto the belt still. Now that it wasn’t around my neck, I could feel the prickle of pain where I’d gotten cut. It wasn’t bad, not by any means. I figured Maddox would utterly destroy me—and he did, just not in the way I anticipated.
“I…” Viper trailed off, realizing what he was doing. He averted his gaze, trying to play the shining knight. What a fool he was though, for in this house, there was no such thing as a knight in shining armor. The armor any of these guys wore was black and sullied, stained with blood and gore, maybe even some brain bits. You never knew. Killing got messy, and I bet these guys had done in a lot more people than I had in my short stint as the Night Slayer.
While he was busy looking away, I shrugged off my cut shirt and bra, exposing my entire top half. The way Maddox had cut my shorts, I didn’t need to worry about those; I currently sat on their silky fabric. It was a good thing I didn’t wear panties beneath them, otherwise he would’ve just cut those up, too. Poor clothes. They didn’t deserve to meet an end like this. What’s worse was they were actually quite comfortable.
Shadowed Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (A Death So Sweet Book 1) Page 16
