Wanted: Single Rose

by Skye, Mav

  She eyed him like a steak, but spoke like a commanding officer. “On your back.”

  He lied back, becoming aware of the stench of blood, of dead bodies surrounding them.

  He goosepimpled, but Velva’s pull kept his erection strong, wanting.

  “Good soldier,” she murmured, and stepped over him, so that each slender heel rested on either side of his naked hips. She set the axe head on the ground, the handle resting against her fishnet thigh. She unzipped the feathered shoulders from the back, and slowly unlaced the rest of her corset. A poof of feathers rained on top of his thighs, but he didn’t notice, his focus on her pale breasts—full, curved and blossoming, her nipples sprung like delicate rose buds. She bent and blew the black feathers from his thighs.

  His reaction was hard to miss.

  She smiled, pressing her fingers against the outside of her thighs and lifted her mini skirt. The fishnet rose to mid thigh and attached with skull buckles to her garter belt. A slim thong barely covered her. Sir Sun’s breath doubled, and when she sank to her spread knees, straddling him, he thought he’d gone to heaven.

  To hell with the dead. Death heightened the experience, because of the danger, the fear, the excitement. He was alive, every cell of his body cried for it, relished it, begged for it.

  Velva grabbed his erection and lifted him to the black silk lips of her panties. She rubbed herself on the tip of his sex, and spread her knees further, moving aside the silk, so that he entered her tight vortex of chaos.

  She arched her back and moaned a hungry guttural cry, not unlike the sound Undead Duck had made before he attacked.

  Sir Sun wrapped his fingers over her knees, ran them up her thighs.

  “Oh, you hell hound, you.” She thrust herself on him, over him, rocking her hips. His fingers traveled up her delicious thighs to where their bodies met, and pushed one thumb between her lips, rubbing the tiny pistil of her bloom.

  “No!” she screamed, startling him. She rose up on her knees, almost enough for him to slip out, but not quite. Quick as a fox, she snatched the axe between two hands and brought the blade to his throat. Her breasts swelled and heaved with her rapid breathing.

  “What the—” Sir Sun moved to grab the axe, but she pushed the blade into his neck.

  “Stay.”

  He froze.

  She eyed him suspiciously, but began moving her hips against him once more, while holding the blade firmly against his throat.

  The nipples of her breast engorged and tipped upward as her hips rapidly pumped at his, he couldn’t help but respond. He lifted his ass off the ground, moving with her like a wave cresting. His hips lunged into hers from beneath, and she cried out excitedly. “More.” It came out half moan, half plea.

  At that very moment, the axe against his neck, surrounded by blood and death and a dark angel riding his sex, something he had been suppressing became unleashed.

  A beast uncaged.

  He bucked beneath her. Drawing a scream from her lips, but also unsettling the axe she had threatened against his throat. He grabbed the handle as he did, and ripped it from her fingers.

  He held the axe above his head like a crazy axe man.

  Velva’s hands flew up with the handle. “What? Timothy! Give it back.” She reached to clutch it.

  But he was stronger than her, and they both knew it. He threw it behind his head, not as far as he’d have liked, but far enough, snatching her slender wrists as she leaped after it.

  “What are you—?” She tried to rise up, but he snapped her arms to her side, bucked beneath her again, and flipped her to the carpet, so that she was on her back, and he knelt between her thighs.

  “Honey,” he said, planting gentle kisses her forehead, jawbone, and chin. “I think it’s better without the axe.” He sat back on his knees, trousers still around his thighs; her legs spread around him.

  She opened her mouth to speak, and he covered her lips with two fingers and looked at her. Her breasts heaved, ribs lined down to her belly, skirt pulled up to her hips, black panties displaced.

  Beast uncaged.

  He slowly removed his fingers. And they both breathed hard, staring each other down, eye to eye, beast to beast.

  She whispered two electrifying words. “Game on.”

  His eyebrows popped up. “Oh, boy.”

  She raised her leg and kicked him squarely in the chest (Girls Just Wanna Have Funyuns!). Surprised by her strength, Sir Sun flew backward with the force. He stabilized by placing his hands on Undead Duck—he didn’t even shiver this time.

  Velva flipped over to her stomach, her sweet ass up in the air, and leaped for the axe. Her fingers grazed the handle.

  “I don’t think so, Velva.” He flopped on top of her, his elbows propped on the carpet above her shoulders. His arms were longer, and his hands covered hers over the axe handle. His erection sidled between her ass cheeks, the silk of the thong strap between them.

  The feel of her skin as she struggled beneath, the life inside, the death without. The breaching of life and death, of survival uncaged inside him: a dark beast with violence and sex in its soul.

  In his soul.

  Planted by Miss O’Hara, but reared by the violence and moonlight of Velva. Sweet, fucking Velva.

  Velva let out a deep husky cry as she struggled to free the axe. With his hands over hers, he drew the axe closer, causing them both to raise their hips. He was between her legs, and she leaned back into his erection, groaning, torn between violence and lust, wanting and needing both. Sir Sun knew this, smelled it, embraced it as his own. He said, “Let go, Velva.” He nibbled at her throat, licking the strained muscles.

  “No way,” she said, but her body told him something else. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and kissed her earlobe, then full out bit it.

  She moaned again, and the beast inside of him howled. Keeping a grip on the handle, he drew back his other hand, reached around her waist and moved her panties aside. With the silk out of the way, he plunged inside her. She ground her hips into him, clenching.

  They both grunted, together.

  He moved his hand back over the curve of her breast, squeezing her nipple, then dived down her ribs. He travelled over her stomach and down her pubic bone through downy hair to the division of her soft velvet, where her clit nestled. He rubbed his finger over her, stroking its heat.

  She jumped, startled, and clutched at the axe, trying to get it away from him.

  He thrust inside her again and breathed into her ear. “This isn’t a game, darlin’. Just let go.” Then he moved his finger against her once more, stroking her. And immediately he felt the change in her body. She arched her back, then ground her hips into him, her breathing picked up harder. Her entire body gripped him, building intensity he knew only Velva could attain.

  He rammed into her faster, faster, the wolf inside howling, gnashing its teeth at the moon, at the thrill of the hunt. She fought back, lusting, craving, needing. Both his arms drew over hers, clasping her hands over the axe, embracing the violence and need together. Her hips slapped back into him, her body gripping him, grappling. Both of them rode the night. They were the moon and the stars. He pumped her once, twice, and again, and finally succumbing to him entirely, Velva exploded into the sun. Her rays absorbing him into her, his hidden beast plunging one last time, and they both collapsed on the carpet of death. Their inhaling and exhaling perfectly matched as their hands upon the axe. Sir Sun rested his head between her shoulder blades, ever aware she could twist the axe out of his hands, and hack into him at any moment.

  He didn’t care.

  What had awakened in him, what Velva had awakened in him, was a beast without a conscience. A beast that cared not whether he lived or died.

  Moonlight slipped between Daisy’s window shades, highlighting Velva’s dark hair. She groaned, and moved underneath him.

  Sir Sun lifted himself off her, she let him slide the axe out of her hands, and he sat beside her on the carpet.
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  She rolled over, her naked beauty splayed before him. The smell of their beastly fucking clinging to the air, as did death. And even though he had just spilled himself inside her. He felt himself heat. He could definitely do that again.

  Velva raised herself up on her elbows, her breasts firm and perky, beads of sweat glistening off her like dew on a rose, and eyed him playfully, then the axe. “You’re going to regret that.”

  “I think you liked it enough.” He made a crude gesture with his finger. And she blushed.

  The beast in Sir Sun stood on its feet and howled. Velva blushing, this was an accomplishment.

  She laughed at his expression, reading his thoughts, and sat upon her knees, (spread slightly) and slipped her skirt down. She grabbed the feathered top off Daisy, and in one graceful motion slid it on and zipped it. She had a harder time with the torn corset. She gathered her bosom and tried to fit back inside, her breasts plunging over the top. “Lace me up?”

  He took the lace as she gathered her loose hair up, and he threaded it in and out of the front the best he could, her skin distracting him.

  She pecked his cheek when he finished and handed him the red shirt. Girls Just Wanna Have funyuns!

  Sir Sun donned the shirt, it was backward. He took it off and leaned against a wall, shimmying it over his head again. The axe lay behind him on the carpet, his pants close to his knees. Once he slipped the shirt on correctly, he was surprised to see Velva crawling towards him like the vixen she was.

  “Trust me,” she whispered. Her eyes ice. Her full lips fire. Now she was close enough that her long hair hung down tickling his thighs, and her face ducked to the head of his erection. “You’re going to regret this.”

  Before he could react, her lips closed over him, and every inch of his body pleaded for sweet mercy. He gripped her hair as her head rose and fell, her lips wet, gripping him, swallowing him, her tongue gliding up and down his stalk. He exploded again like he had moments before, the beast howling, the moon and stars colliding, his body singing with pleasure, and as he did, he was aware of her hands reaching behind him, snatching the axe. He moved clumsily to ward her off, but she was too fast.

  She scurried away from him like a black spider, slinging the axe over her shoulder, rising to her feet and backing away. He tried to stand, got tangled in his pant legs, and did a face plant.

  She smiled in that coy way Velva smiled, and wiped her finger across her mouth. “I needed that.” Her face changed from playful to sincere. “I needed you.”

  “Velva…” He trailed, didn’t know what to say.

  She ran her fingers down the spine of the axe seductively. “But we got to finish the game.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  The playfulness returned as she plucked her raven mask off Undead Duck’s tail feather. “It’s Halloween, Timothy! And I’m going to have a good time. We’ll win. I will win. You’ll see.” She smiled her delicious smile, and then her lips froze. “Which reminds me—who was that bitch sitting on your lap at the party.” Jealousy crept into her voice. Her eyes danced madly.

  Sir Sun stood, pulling his trousers up around his hips. She had seen Ms. Twilight. “Um…Who?”

  “Don’t be coy, you know who I mean.” Donning her heels, she gingerly stepped over the bodies and was down the hall now.

  “Velva,” he followed her, buttoning his pants. “She’s no one. Nothing compared to you.”

  She peeked her head around the corner of the hallway, startling him. The beast was in her eyes. “I’m going to find that vampire. And when I do…” She made a slicing motion across her neck, winked at him, then popped back around the corner.

  “Velva!” Iron bars slammed over the wild beast from earlier. Once more it was caged, and fear set in.

  He chased after her but stepped on Daisy’s no longer wobbly stomach. Several farts escaped as the gas building in side Daisy found release.

  The front door slammed.

  And he was left with his own demons and the dead. He plugged in the lamp and searched for his shears.

  Velva had to be stopped. At the thought, the beast within rattled its cage and howled, but his heart mourned.

  Violent Velva. Violent wishes.

  26

  Let’s Get This Party Started

  Time was short. He peered out the doorway; glancing left then right. For the moment, the hallway was empty, but Sid’s party was still jumping full force. He tiptoed to the doorway, stepping over the gorilla and nurse making out against the pole in the hall. He didn’t see Velva, but he did see Ms. Twilight talking with her vampires clan. Apparently, Velva had other things to do first.

  And so did he.

  He jaunted back down the hall, up the stairs to the third floor, and into his apartment. When he slipped inside, he searched his apartment for bodies, dead or alive, and when he found none, not even in his bedroom closet. He let out a sigh of relief.

  He put a pot of coffee on to brew while he showered, shaved, and put on fresh clothes. After a thought, he took off his clean shirt and put the Girls Just wanna have Funyuns back on. It made him blend in better. Then he put the coffee in a travel mug and slipped the shears into his pocket. The routine was comforting. And he needed comfort.

  He just made violent love to a woman while fighting off her axe. Violent Velva. Splatterpunk Velva.

  He drew up his kitchen blinds. The window faced towards the river. The moon was a pool of blood in the sky. It was close to midnight, and Sir Sun could hear Ah Lam’s creaking rope. “I’m sorry, Ah Lam.”

  Death surrounded him. And there was more to come. He didn’t know what to expect, and he didn’t have a plan anymore. As he drew back inside, he noticed a sticky note on his refrigerator door.

  Now what?

  Midnight? He put his head against the freezer door and closed his eyes. Not much time.

  He heard a voice from his living room. And by the high pitch of its tone, he knew it was his bone orchid.

  Kill her, it said in its high falsetto voice. Kill Velva. It’s the only way. He tore the note off the fridge and stuck it in his pocket as he walked into his living room.

  The bone orchid started flapping its butterfly wing petals at him.

  “I love her,” he told it. And then he realized, that instant, he did. He really did.

  Kill her! it demanded.

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear you anymore—any of you!” He grabbed the pot. The wing petals slapped at his hands.

  Murderer! it cried. His one lovely companion he’d kept close all these years betrayed him, turned on him.

  He carried the pot into the kitchen, slid open the window and pitched the orchid out into the night. It felt good. He felt clean. He was in love. And he was going to save the night.

  Sir Sun checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until midnight. He then walked to his front door, opened it and stepped into the hallway, and glanced back into his apartment. In a way, he was saying goodbye.

  He closed the door.

  It was dead silent in the hallway and once more he said, “I love her.” It wasn’t a statement as much as a plea to the gods that be to save him, to save his Violent Velva.

  He realized how pathetic he sounded, so he walked toward the stairs, pausing when he thought he heard a noise from the elevator. But the noise stopped, and he had other matters to attend, so he jaunted down the stairs to the ground floor, where he would wait until midnight.

  * * *

  He checked in on the party. Somebody had barfed in the living room. Ms. Twilight and Caesar were trying to clean it up, but feet kept trampling through it and tracking it around.

  He headed toward the apartment entrance, thinking he’d wait outside, and distract Velva when she arrived. He sipped his coffee. He thought of Sara’s Diner, of all the cups of coffee and pie he’d eaten there—the Tuesday special Meatloaf. He wondered if he’d be able to look Sara in the eye after tonight.

  He supposed not. Her friendship had meant a lot to him
over the years, although he’d never thought of it as friendship, hadn’t acknowledged it. He shook his head, Sir Sun supposed there were a lot of things he didn’t realize, that he had taken for granted. Not just about the world, but about himself.

  He sipped on hot coffee while considering this, and the clock arms on his watch ticked to midnight. He turned inside the entrance hall, and right on the button, a woman screamed bloody murder from the broken elevator.

  He shook his head and thought, Glad you could make it, honey, then ran in the direction of the scream.

  Sir Sun fervently jabbed at the elevator up and down buttons when Caesar came strolling down the hall. Sir Sun frowned.

  Caesar lifted an accusing finger. “I know you are up to something, you scumbag!”

  Another tortured scream burst from the elevator cutting Caesar off.

  The party music bass out blasted the tortured scream inside the elevators. Sir Sun and Caesar were the only two in the hall, the only two that heard it.

  Caesar said, “Holy shit, someone’s stuck in the elevator.” He put his fingers between the doors and tried to pry them open, while Sir Sun frantically pushed buttons.

  When the elevator doors finally opened, they found Mrs. Chow tied to Sir Sun’s kitchen chair. The gag had fallen out of her mouth into her lap. And she screamed again when she saw them.

  The elderly woman’s eyes were crazed. Her head flopped to the side from exhaustion. Her hair, greasy and dirty, ratted out like a punk rocker’s. Her clothes were ripped to shreds. But that isn’t what stood out.

  It was the crimson guts spilling out of her stomach onto her lap.

  When she spotted Sir Sun, her dead eyes burned with a faint light. “You!” she yowled. “YOU!”

  Sir Sun and Caesar rushed into the elevator to help her. Sir Sun tried to cut the rope with his shears. The rope was thick—way thicker than a branch—and it was going to take a while to work through it. Caesar tried to scoop her intestines so they didn’t fall onto the dirty floor.