Cellar Door

by Suzanne Steele

  “I’m your new drug of choice, and you don’t even know it…yet.” My fingers leisurely spread her open, exploring and imbedding in my memory every detail of her body. My fingers clench her hips when she tries to wriggle away to escape my scrutiny. I won’t tolerate that. She will be as open to me emotionally as she is right now physically. I’ll allow no less than total exposure, enabling me to know her in a way no one else ever has.

  I caress and squeeze her ass, the flesh silky and firm in my hands. Giving her no warning of my intentions, I raise my hand and bring it down hard on her backside. Her shocked gasp pleases me so I do it again, even harder, this time striking the apex of her thighs before I line up the head of my cock to her entrance and take her in one relentless thrust. She cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure and her pussy flutters around my cock as she adjusts to my possession. I curve my torso over her until we are skin-to-skin from shoulder to hip, my breathing labored as I nuzzle her neck and smile. Soon my touch will be as necessary to her as breathing.

  I’m already on the edge of finding my pleasure, my teeth clenching as I fight to stave off the orgasm that eagerly awaits me. God help me, her creamy walls feels so good clenched around my cock as she comes.

  “Your body betrays you, Madonna mine,” I murmur against her skin as I move inside her. “It tells me all your dirty little secrets. This soaking wet cunt, your swollen nipples throbbing for me, and the way you sound when you come for me…They all tell me what we both already know, that you belong to me.”

  Madonna

  Beneath his capable hands I feel boneless and limp, and yet I’ve never felt more powerful. All my hatred and animosity goes out the window as he owns my body. It’s as if I’m being pulled into a dark vortex of sensations I never want to end—he plays my body like a fine-tuned instrument.

  The sting of his hand on the tender skin of my ass releases a euphoric combination of pleasure and pain. The overwhelming sensations rocking through me magnify my awareness of every smooth stroke of his cock. Every nerve ending in my body feels electrified. As I surrender to yet another mind-blowing orgasm, I know I will never experience this all-consuming sexual heat with anyone but my enemy, this man who took me against my will.

  My upper body falls onto the cot, clutching and tearing at the sheets as if that will save me from what he’s doing to me. Deep down inside, I don’t want to be saved. I don’t want to ever spend another evening on a date with a man whose idea of passion is little more than clumsy groping or timid, awkward touches. I want this. I want to be taken.

  When did I become this feral, wanton woman? I’m writhing and bucking against this man’s rock-hard shaft as if I’m a featured player in the writings of the Marquis de Sade. Liam’s intentions are anything but pure and I, in turn, want him to ruin me.

  He pummels my sex with an almost frantic series of thrusts, all the while maintaining his bruising grip on my hips. He kneads my ass roughly, pulling my cheeks apart, no doubt to watch the show as our bodies slam together over and over again.

  As my walls clamp down hard around his length, his body surges forward in a final, jarringly fierce thrust. He yanks my head back by my hair, his eyes locking with mine as his hips rock against me in ever slower pulsing movements. His face reddens and his neck muscles strain when he releases his cum deep inside me. As he rides out his orgasm, a guttural sound rumbles deep within his chest until he drops his head back and bellows my name in an anguished roar.

  He collapses on top of me, pressing slow, open-mouth kisses along my neck and back. I decide it’s only fair that I hold the same hypnotic hex over him that he does over me. I’m not a woman to be led around by a man… or even by my own desires.

  Yes…power is a good thing, and it looks like I have it now. And I have every intention of using it to my benefit.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Liam

  Water drips from my fingertips as I run the sponge over Madonna’s body. She’s lightly dozing, cradled between my legs in my bathtub. The jasmine-scented water swirls over her breasts and stray droplets cling to her nipples, which remain plump and, I’m sure, quite tender after being handled so brutally earlier this evening.

  “Don’t ever get it twisted, little one. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I can be manipulated by you because of that sweet, tight pussy of yours—”

  Her body tenses, so I know I’ve hit a nerve. She’s no different than anyone else, we all seek to control the world we inhabit. “You, young lady,” I chuckle indulgently, “are not in a position to manipulate your destiny…or me, for that matter.”

  I lean in and nuzzle her neck and linger there as I speak. My whisper becomes a low rumble and makes my intentions clear, “Don’t fuck with me, Madonna—the consequences will prove to be most unpleasant if you do.

  “Such beautiful, milky white skin you have, so delicate,” I say, going for a change of subject. Another squeeze of the sponge and warm water rolls across her shoulders and over her breasts. But we both know her goosebumps have nothing to do with the water temperature.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe here. As long as you do as you’re told, all will be well in the confined little world you now occupy. You really should be grateful. After all, I saved your life. I did. The things they’re saying about the man who wants to kill you, hmm, terrible, awful things.

  “They’re saying he may be even crazier than my brother is. Isn’t it funny how two men can be twins, yet be so different? I guess we’re both our own brand of crazy but our intentions couldn’t be more different. Me, with my desire to hold you here, my need to save you. Him? He just wants you dead.”

  Madonna

  I’m listening…I can hear him loud and clear, and yet he sounds so far away. Maybe I’m slowly disconnecting from all the madness that’s been seeping into my life. Although his words are reassuring, they’re issued with a veiled threat. If someone on the outside heard his words they would see him as a hero, but I know better. In the short time I’ve known Liam, since he started protecting me, I have learned that he is malevolent, twisted, and definitely not to be trusted.

  I’m walking a tightrope here. As long as I do things his way, I’ll be safe. I don’t know what it would take to set this guy off so I have to tread carefully. And I most certainly don’t want to know what a copycat killer will do if he gets his filthy hands on me. Frankly, Liam is the lesser of two evils.

  Well, shit.

  He’s forced me into a position where I have to choose him. We both know I’m not here willingly, but if I truly had to choose? Yeah, I’d stay right here, at least until my stalker is dealt with.

  A chill courses through me while he talks. He must feel it because he pulls me close and slowly squeezes the sponge, sending warm water cascading over me.

  I fill a need in him to control, to own, to seduce with domination; he fills a need in me to survive, to be protected from a madman who will stop at nothing to slaughter me as some kind of offering to his idol. Certainly not the usual basis for a relationship, but I’ve had a lifetime to make the best of the hand I’ve been dealt. It just isn’t in me to give up.

  “Liam…do you trust me?” I ask, sliding my body against his erection until it presses against my lower back, just above my ass cheeks.

  “I think we both know I don’t trust you,” he chuckles, barely muffling a groan deep in his throat from the contact.

  I revel in the womanly power I hold over him, knowing that I’m the one making him hard. I turn my head and tilt my chin to look up at him. A spark of excitement lightens my tone as I blurt out my idea before I can change my mind.

  “Let’s catch him together,” I say, rolling to my side to see him more easily, and sending sudsy water sloshing over the edge of the tub to land a puddle on the floor. “We can get this guy off the streets before he kills again.”

  “If you’re suggesting I use you as bait to catch a killer…that’s never going to happen, sunshine.”

  “No, no, of course not,” I
reassure him, although, hmm, it’s an interesting thought. “Then let me help you with your research—it’s what I do.” He cuts his eyes at me and it’s obvious he is scrutinizing me, assessing me.

  “Say something…” I demand as I sit up on my knees, giving him one hell of a show as I let water stream down my naked body, mere inches away from him. Close enough to touch…close enough to taste. I can’t stand the anticipation any longer; I just want him to say something.

  “You want me to say something, hmm?”

  I stay perfectly still, other than arching my back slightly to offer him my tits to play with. My skin glistens, rivulets of water drip off my nipples that are already puckering in the cool air.

  “Okay,” he murmurs as he cups a breast, cradling it in his hand, caressing the firm mound. His touch is lighting me up between my legs, making me squirm against his thigh to find the friction I crave. “Here’s what I have to say,” he murmurs as his thumb trails back and forth across my nipple. A grin tilts a corner of his mouth as he gives my nipple a pinch, just hard enough to make me wince.

  “What you’re asking me to do, Madonna, could cause me a hell of a lot of problems, not to mention if you go running to the police and I get locked up, then a killer will have free access to you. I’m sure you understand that I would have a huge fucking problem with the object of my obsession being killed. So here’s what we’ll do: you can do research, and I’ll give you access to the internet under my supervision. We’ll work on it together.”

  He leans forward and squeezes my jaw between the fingers of his free hand. “Just know that, if you fuck me over, that guy will be the least of your worries. There won’t be anywhere on God’s green earth that you will be able to go to get away from me. I’ll spend until my dying day hunting you down. I brought you here to protect you and, whether you think my motives are right or wrong, I don’t take kindly to betrayal on any level and I’ll punish you severely. Do we understand one another?”

  I respond with a jerky nod of my head and he abruptly releases his grip on my face. He pulls me back into our original position, with me lying against his chest, cradled between his legs as his hands cup my breasts in the warm water.

  I have no idea what I would do if given the chance to escape, but for now I’ll tell him what he wants to hear. We have one thing in common: we both want to keep this guy from killing again—and we damn sure share the common goal of keeping me alive.

  Where I am with all the mayhem in my life right now is the proverbial ‘ends justifying the means’. Liam has become my sordid savior…

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  His Nightmare

  I take great care as I tie him to the chair. Each limb must be secured because he’s going to fight against his restraints when he regains consciousness. Straight-back wooden chairs like this are perfect for trussing up someone’s hands. This time I even went so far as to truss up his midsection to the chair. There is a hell of a difference in a person’s strength when they’re in fight or flight mode—and any minute now when he wakes up, he’s going to be driven by pure instinct, just trying to survive. I waste no time starting in on him as soon as his eyes start to flutter.

  He never sees it coming. I slap him so hard that his head flies to the side and I wonder absently if his neck will snap. The sour stench draws my attention down to his urine-soaked pants.

  “What man pisses on himself at a time like this?” I ask contemptuously before I slap him on the other cheek. A trail of blood drips from his lip and my dick goes hard in an instant. It’s the blood that excites me, not him. I’m nobody’s bitch.

  “What?” I snarl. “Are you a bitch? You are, aren’t you—you’re a little bitch.”

  “Why are you doing this?” His whine repulses me but my dick stays hard as a rock and I can’t resist palming it through my pants…because of the blood.

  “Such a predictable question. C’mon, you’re fighting for your life here, can’t you come up with something more original than that? True, you’re only my second kill, but you should be pleased to know that I’m enjoying this so much that I’ve decided I’m going to keep doing it. Yes, I really do like it,” I say conversationally, adding, “So tell me, are you married?”

  “Yes, yes, and I have children too” he answers, throwing that last bit in as if it will make a difference. I really couldn’t give a fuck about all that.

  “Ah, a family man, are you?”

  “Yes! I have a wife and kids and they need me--”

  “Really. Interesting. Well, if you’re that worried about your wife and kids, what are you doing picking up diseased whores to suck your cock?”

  His face flushes, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to defend his actions. “My wife…She’s sick, she can’t have sex.”

  “I didn’t want an answer, dumb ass. I. Don’t. Care. Why am I doing this? Simple. Because I can.”

  Liam

  The pad of my thumb traces back and forth over her shoulder as I stare into the darkness and ponder our discussion. Madonna is the first woman I’ve allowed to sleep through the night in my bed. Usually I can’t get rid of a woman quick enough and kick them out of bed before my dick has even dried off. But not now. There’s something intimate about the afterglow of sex with her, more intimate than the sex itself; something I’ve never been willing to share with anyone…until now.

  She wants to catch a killer with me, how ironic. I know my brother and he’s never going to help us catch this guy in the act. He’s having too much fun watching him wreak havoc on the city. The fact that I’m holding a woman against her will certainly limits my options. I can’t do anything to draw attention to myself. Funny how the best of intentions can turn around and bite you in the ass.

  In successful abductions there must come a time when abductees are no longer bound by physical ties, but instead by the emotional bonds the captor has skillfully woven into their psyche. Only time will tell if I’ve been successful in my endeavors. Yes, joining forces against this guy is just what we need to establish some common ground. There’s nothing quite like being bound by blood.

  Chapter Forty

  His Resentment

  I hate this part of my job, having to clean up after these stupid people. Even though jamming a screwdriver into his ear wasn’t all that messy in and of itself, I resent the fact that I have to clean up his mess. Killing him this way aligned nicely with my ‘three monkeys’ theme, and allowed me to see his face as the screwdriver pierced his brain.

  I had imagined his brain would offer only soft resistance, much like trying to cut through gristle on a fatty steak. But I must have hit something harder because I had to push really hard to force the screwdriver in. Overall, I enjoyed the experience, but I liked killing the woman more because I could play with her titties and get myself off. It was nearly impossible not to come in my pants, though. That used to happen when I was a peeping Tom, but now I aspire to be a serial killer, master of my destiny. I’ve always liked watching women while playing with my cock, but killing that whore and seeing the fear in her eyes was riveting.

  I like the fun stuff: the terror in their eyes, listening to them beg me for their lives—as if I’m going to change my mind. I don’t think so. I act like I’m considering having mercy on them because it gives them false hope, which serves to draw out my pleasure. Of course, dumping bodies behind that stupid private investigator’s compound is an adrenaline rush too. I’m taking a chance doing that again but it’s the only way I can be associated with and, therefore, compared to The Riddler. People need to know I’m a whole lot smarter and better at killing people than he is. And it’s been nearly a month since I killed the whore with the great tits, so security around the building has surely loosened up.

  Then again, there could be an even better way to make my point—that I am just as fucking talented as my mentor – and not get caught. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I know exactly what to do…

  Madonna

  “Take me to see him.” I lean
up on an elbow and maintain steady eye contact in an attempt to convince him that he can trust me. “I won’t say anything. And I’ll stay here of my own volition.” Great, now I’m bargaining with my kidnapper.

  He narrows his eyes, assessing me, weighing the risks. I know it’s crazy on his part to trust me but he doesn’t need to know that. And, surprisingly, I have no intention of telling anyone our secret. His mysterious behavior has now become part of the enigmatic game we play. Staying with Liam will ensure my success in the venture I have in mind—but only if he goes along with it.

  “So inquisitive…You want to interview Lance for your writing, don’t you? Is that what this is about? Do you really believe you’re in the position to bargain with me?”

  “People are always telling me I should write my own book. There’s no better way to get inside information on how a killer thinks than to go straight to the source.”

  “You’re mistaken if you think Lance can be taken at face value; he’s a master manipulator. He’ll turn the tables on you and you won’t even know he’s done it. He likes toying with his prey. But you’re my prey and the thought of any other man sharing that part of you enrages me.”

  “That’s why I’ll have you with me. That way, you can decide what’s true and what’s a lie. And even if he does lie to us, I’ll still get insights from a killer.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, Liam…us. Consider it a bonding experience.”

  “No! You’re the one who needs to reconsider. If you cross me, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

  “I’m sure we can find another way for you to introduce me to that side of your personality. We wouldn’t want to take something that’s meant to be enjoyable and turn into something ugly, would we?” I tip my head to the side and look up at him through my lashes, being shamelessly coy.