by K. L. Savage
“Hey, I know that.” I stroke her arm up and down while not breaking eye contact. “I know you’d tell me the truth because that’s the kind of person you are. You don’t hide anything and I won’t hide anything from you either. Okay? I promise.” I kiss her lips and groan when I feel how they give and melt against mine. “Thank you, Cupcake.”
I reach for my phone on the counter and thank the stars I remembered to take it out of my pocket before climbing in the tub, which reminds me…
There’s water all over the floor from it sloshing over the edge.
I text Mercy the information and his reply is immediate.
“Sending Bolt, Halfpint, Hashtag, Moose, and Tutu to survey. We will reconvene tonight.”
I toss my phone across the floor through the wet puddles accumulating, not giving a damn about the plan, the target, the kill, or the Scapegoat hanging in the BDSM room. I don’t give a fuck.
My only care, the only person I give a damn about right now, is Charlie. I stand up, keeping my hands on her ass as I lift her out of the water. Her legs are wrapped around my waist and she has her arms tightened around my neck as I step out of the tub, a waterfall cascading into the tub from her body and my clothes.
I step out, not giving a damn about the mess on the floor either. I’ll worry about it later.
Managing to hold her with one arm, I use the trim to hold myself up as I kick off my soggy boots.
As I walk, every step squishes against the ground and I notice the bedroom door open.
Oh, fuck no. No one is allowed to see my girl naked.
I kick it shut, then lock it for good measure.
The air in the room changes, but there isn’t a desperate edge or a suffocating amount of lust. The energy is fragile, delicate, and unsure, but the desire grows.
I can feel it.
Dripping in water, I lie her down on the bed, the comforter becoming wet, the water spreading as the material soaks it up.
I cup the back of her head and my world stops and starts again as our lips meet. She’s shaking, but she isn’t cold.
She’s terrified.
“Tie me up again, Cupcake. I only want you comfortable,” I say, delving my tongue between her lips, the soft tangle of her tongue getting lost in mine.
“No,” she shakes her head. “No, I want you. I have since the first time. I was just scared, but I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admits, her trembling palm resting over my heart. “I don’t want to be afraid of us.”
I feel like she’s holding back something else, but I can’t tell what it is.
“I’ll take care of you, Cupcake.” I drag my hands down her body, languid and lazy so she can say stop. “I’ll always take care of you.” When I reach her hips, I grab onto them and hoist her into the middle of the bed.
She gasps and I freeze, waiting for her to say the word stop. I will stop too. Every time.
But lust is swirling her baby blues into whirlpools. She lifts up and slides my waterlogged cut off, then grips the hem of my shirt and yanks it over my head. She tosses it to the floor and all I hear is a wet plop.
My breaths are harsh as I flatten her against the mattress and look my fill of what’s mine. All fucking mine. Those tits, those freckles, the dip in her waist, and her tight cunt. All of her belongs to me.
I pluck her nipples, rolling them between my fingers, and watch her writhe and moan. Her arms smack against the bed and she fists the comforter, stretching her neck back with her eyes shut as she enjoys the pleasure.
Only ever pleasure.
That’s all she will feel from me.
“Whistler,” she moans. Her ribs press under her flesh as her back bows.
I bend down and pause before taking her nipple into my mouth. I look up at her and see her blissed-out expression, her hands still clutching the blanket. I latch my mouth onto her cherry red bead, moaning as I flick my tongue across the tip.
Every inch of her sweetness is my favorite dessert.
“Wesley,” she whimpers my name, her body jerking, and I bite down a little harder, testing the boundaries I can push without going too far.
I let go of her strawberry flavored sprinkle, blowing cold air onto the hard candy, watching it tighten further.
The air conditioning kicks on and I peel my eyes from her body to the vent from the unexpected sound. Straightening, I roam my hands down her body and slide my palms up my thighs until I get to my zipper.
She props herself up and her shaking hands unsnap the button while I lower the zipper. I’m slow, cautious, and don’t want to scare her away, but she doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Charlie isn’t tearing at my clothes, she’s reserved, but she’s trying to break free from her fear and I’m not going to rush her.
Charlie rolls the waistband of my jeans and tugs them down my legs until I can kick them free. Her mouth opens and she leans forward, flattening her tongue against my shaft, then swirling it around the head. Charlie licks the tip and leans back, swallowing the bit of precome she gathered on her tongue.
She moves her hair out of the way and lies down onto her back, spreading her legs and offering herself to me.
I have to take a minute because there’s a weight on my chest making it difficult to catch my breath and I look at her in amazement. I know she’s never offered herself to anyone like she has to me in this moment.
Men have taken, taken, and taken, and she’s giving herself to me. Me. Out of everyone in the world, she picked me.
I’m the luckiest guy alive.
“I swear, I’m always going to take care of you, even more than I take care of myself. You’ll always be my priority.” I roam my hands up her smooth legs and her eyes water the closer I get. “We don’t have to, Cupcake. There’s no pressure.”
“No!” She pulls me down by wrapping her arms around me. “No,” the words ghost over my ear. “I’m not scared. I’m happy. I’m relieved I’m with you. I trust you.” She kisses my cheek and drags her lips across the edge of my jaw until she’s at my mouth. “I trust you,” the words are whispered across my lips.
I pull myself closer, crawling until I’m settled over her, lifting one leg over my hips while sliding one arm under her back. The first thing I notice as my fingers spread between her shoulder blades is how soft her skin is. I could lie here for hours just like this, body pressed against hers, lips teasing mine, her skin reacting to my touch, and I’d be the happiest man alive.
“If hurting you meant feeling happiness, I’d forever want to live in misery,” I tell her before dropping my lips to hers, kissing her as if my life depends on it.
And it does.
My life depends on hers, on her happiness and well−being.
We kiss lazily, sliding against each other, dancing our tongues together before I reach between us and line up my cock with her entrance.
I don’t dare take my eyes off hers as I inch forward, the head of my cock nestled inside her. Removing my hand and placing it on her shoulder, I press forward, inhaling a strangled breath at the same time she does as I stretch her open.
Her nails turn to claws as they dig into my shoulder and I groan from the pinch of pain. I can take anything she gives me and it won’t ever change the fact that the only thing I’ll ever give her is pleasure.
“Oh god, Wesley. So good,” she mumbles, relaxing at last when I’m as far as I can go. “You feel so good. You’re so much deeper like this.” Her hands drag down my back and squeeze the globes of my ass, pulling me closer, which surges me forward.
I’m pressed in her to the hilt.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. If I do, I’ll come too fast. She feels incredible, but it’s how we’ve worked up to this moment that has me hanging by a thread.
The bed begins to shake as I quicken the pace and snap my hips. One hand gripping her tit, the other squeezing her thigh, I rock against her faster. She cries my name, the long column of her throat on display.
I can’t ignore it.
I d
ive down and lick across the pale skin, moaning at the lavender scent clinging to her. I planned to go easy, slow, and work our way up to hard but my control slips. Harder and faster, I plunge into her tight heat, cloaking myself in her nectar.
Every second that passes she becomes wetter and her sounds, her body’s reaction to me, it’s all for me. No one else, not because of anyone or anything else. There are no outside influences.
Just me.
I’m making her feel like this.
Hungry, starved, and impatient for my cock just like I am for her sweet cupcake.
I curl my hands around her shoulders and use them as support to hold onto her harder, forcing myself to move faster. God, I’m desperate.
“Wesley! Oh my god, more. More, please. Faster. Faster, damn it!”
I don’t know what happened to my plan but hearing her cry out for more has everything damned to hell.
“You want me harder, baby?” I pull out, my cock coated with her icing and slide my fingers through her folds, bringing my fingers to my mouth. I suck them clean, satisfying my sweet tooth.
“Yes,” she hisses, lifting her hips to impale herself on my cock again.
So much for gentle. I can’t deny her anything.
In the blink of an eye, I flip her onto her stomach and plaster myself against her back, rutting my cock between her ass cheeks. “Maybe I’ll fuck you there one day too. Own you in every hole. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I nip at the shell of her ear.
“Yes, god, please. Take me now. I don’t care.” She bends her lower back, pushing her ass up which causes my perfectly aligned cock to sink into her hot, wicked depths.
I growl, holding her shoulders tight while I stare at where we are connected, watching her fuck me from the bottom. Every fat inch of me disappears into her cunt, the flesh shining every time I slide out, only to slide back in.
Right where I belong.
“You keep doing that, and I’m going to come,” I warn, gritting my teeth when she ignores me, flexing her muscles inside. “Fuck!” I cry out and my orgasm barrels inside me. I yank out from her heated grip.
Breath heaving.
Chest rising.
Fist clenching.
A pearly white drop escapes my slit, my orgasm at the brink of shattering my control. I’m shaking, trembling, and holding back is beginning to hurt. The denial burns my shaft and creates an ache in my balls that quickly diminishes the orgasm.
She peers over her shoulder, looking innocent and clueless while batting her eyelashes at me.
“I think someone wants to be fucked,” I sneer, flipping her over onto her back again. I drag her to the head of the mattress, spread her legs with my knees, grip the headboard with my hands, and stare down at her through sweat stinging my eyes.
She circles her clit for a minute, which has me licking my lips as my mouth waters, watching the sensitive swollen bundle peek between her fingers while she pinches it. I slide my cock against her to join her and Charlie takes control, grips my cock, and places me at her hole.
I stretch my fingers one by one before curling them around the headboard again and thrust in, hard and unrelenting. I continue the rough speed, trying to fuck her harder with every stroke. Our bodies slap together and mix with her loud screams of ecstasy.
While playing with her clit, she uses one hand to fondle her nipple.
The bed bangs against the wall. The mattress squeaks. It sounds like I’m hurting her, but I’m not. Her face is red and when she’s close, she claws at my chest and bites down on her lip.
“Wesley!” the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard while she clamps down around me.
Her orgasm stops her movement, and she grins before disbelief takes over and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her body levitates off the bed, her body possessed by me and me alone.
Her muscles work my cock up and down, sucking me deeper into her womb until I can’t take anymore.
“Charlie! Fuck, baby,” I grind out as I come.
I continue to use the headboard to push myself deeper with every jet that leaves me, planting myself so my come stays and lingers.
We gasp for breath as I fall to the side of her, not wanting to crush her with my weight. I groan and kiss her shoulder, holding her as if I never want to let go.
And I don’t.
We fall asleep tangled up in each other’s embrace. The last boundary has been crossed and I feel closer to her than I ever have. I’ll never abuse her trust again not when I’m right where I want to be.
If someone ever asks me what my favorite memory is, the answer would be simple.
Here. With her. Naked. Spent. Tangled in sheets. And in love.
I sit back and watch as everyone yells at each other, debating on how to surprise Kenneth. Truth is, nothing surprises Kenneth. He’ll be ready no matter what they do or say or prepare. They can go in with guns blazing, but Kenneth will still take them out one by one. Kenneth might be an asshole, but he isn’t stupid.
“It isn’t going to work,” I say casually, pouring myself an ice−cold coke.
No one hears me and that’s fine. I don’t need them to.
Kenneth will expect them to come in a group or small groups or for them to sneak in, but you want to know what he won’t expect?
Me, showing up alone.
We have less than twenty−four hours.
They’ve killed the Scapegoat and sent his body to NOLA just like they promised. Mercy didn’t show mercy. I suppose he only saves that for ones that matter to him. Sitting here fighting about it isn’t going to do anything. It isn’t going to solve anything. It wastes time.
Something Whistler’s sister doesn’t have.
There’s one man that agrees with my way of thinking and it’s earned him a punch in the face from my beloved.
“Fuck you, Bolt. I can’t believe you would send a woman back to a man that abused her so badly for so many years.” Whistler has Bolt by the cut and Bolt dips into his pocket and pulls out a taser.
Zap. Zap.
He presses the buttons on the weapon, but Whistler doesn’t blink. “Go ahead. When I’m done twitching, I’ll get my bat and we will see whose weapon has more power.”
“Prez!”
The argument dies down when Tutu comes in with an envelope. It’s yellow, simple, but it means more harm than good.
The Scapegoat symbol is on the back and I set the coke aside, no longer thirsty.
“We have another delivery,” Tutu says, holding up the piece of mail.
Whistler snatches it from him and rips the paper apart until he pulls out another disc. “Fuck,” he curses and turns in the direction of the DVD player, pressing the button and inserting it in the slot.
“Where are those damn mob men that Irish guy promised?” Princess asks. “If we had them, I bet we could be having a different conversation with Kenneth.”
“Not coming,” Mercy replies. “There’s been an emergency and O’Crowely won’t explain or give details.”
“Fan−fucking−tastic.” Whistler shoves the disc in and it whirls loudly before coming onto the screen.
No need to press play. It begins automatically.
There are no words. No sounds. It’s just a pitch-black room.
“What the hell is this?” One fusses, shoving a chair to the ground. “Taylor isn’t even on the feed, damn it.”
Breaths begin to sound in the speakers and Whistler watches the TV with a hand over his mouth while One stands next to him.
I hurry to his side and take his other hand in mine, wanting to let him know I’m here when he throws an arm around my neck and buries me in his side.
Waiting to see what happens keeps me staring at the screen. Whistler’s hold on me tightens to the point where I almost can’t breathe. Almost. I love being needed so much.
“Nothing is happening. He sent this to—” One is cut off when Taylor falls to the floor, the camera zooming in on her pale face until we can see her tears and
redness around her lids from crying. Her eyes dart back and forth before landing on the camera, staring straight into it as if she can see us.
It’s unnerving.
Her mouth is wide, and I can count every tooth she has as she lets out a murderous scream that causes everyone in the room to jump or curse from the unexpected sound. Her arms stretch out in front of her, her fingernails digging into the ground and breaking as she claws the floor. She gets pulled away, her cries echoing wherever she’s at.
“Turn it off! Turn it the fuck off!” Whistler cups his ears to drown out her cries and the sound of fists hitting flesh has me crying for her. “I said turn it off!” Whistler punches the TV so hard it spiderwebs and One unplugs it from the wall.
Whistler is a strong man, the kind that takes people under his wing and cares for them until he believes they are strong enough to stand on their own two feet. If it were anyone else, this would bother him too, but it’s his sister. He’s devastated. His eyes are red as he holds back his emotions and he grips the mantle and squeezes, so different than when he gripped the headboard last night.
A heartbreaking roar leaves him as the rage builds to a boiling point. I throw myself into his arms and he doesn’t push me away, he embraces me.
“She won’t make it another day. I’ll be carrying away her body if we do,” he says.
“I know,” Mercy slaps a hand on his shoulder. “We will figure it out within the next hour, okay?”
“I’m going to go get you a drink.” I kiss his cheek and slide my hand into his pocket and snag his keys before heading to the bar.
Twisting in and out of the path of the tables, I stare straight ahead and try to act normal. Bolt is sitting on one of the bar stools as I pop a beer open for Whistler.
“You’re going to do something that really pisses him off,” he says, stealing the beer from my hand as his own and taking a long swallow. “You agree with me.”
“I’ve always thought me going there alone was the best plan, whether he agrees with it or not.” I keep my voice low so only Bolt can hear me.
