Cold Cole Heart

by K. Webster

  A kiss.

  Soft. Sensual. Sweet.

  On my inner thigh.

  I pop my eyes open and stare at the man kissing a trail along my thigh straight to my sex. I’m so shocked that all I can do is part my thighs for him. The warmth he’s creating burns through my chilled veins and I crave it almost as much as I do food.

  He bites me, but it doesn’t hurt. My thighs squeeze together and he uses one of his tattooed hands to push it back down on the bed. I stare at his colorful flesh gripping my light brown thigh as his hot breath tickles me. Desire pools in the pit of my belly and I grow wet for him.

  What is wrong with me?

  I was this way with Alan too.

  All he had to do was play my body the right way and it’d make music for him. My body sides with the monsters every time.

  When his tongue darts out to lick me along the apex of my thigh, I whimper. I can’t help but grab onto his inky tresses. This seems to antagonize him because he bites me again, harder. I start to yelp, but the sound turns into a groan when he begins sliding a finger inside me. The way he easily enters me lets me know I’m dripping with want for him. It’s embarrassing, but I don’t have a chance to berate myself before he’s pushing in a second finger. He’s gentle as he uses his fingers to fuck me. My body betrays me as it rocks against him, encouraging him to keep up the movement. I don’t know why he’s doing this or why I’m not questioning it.

  I allow it.

  My body craves the intensity I know he’ll ultimately deliver if he keeps touching me this way. Slowly, he teases me, his fingers touching places within me that zing with pleasure each time. With every movement, my sensations seem to rise higher and higher. The crash will be long and hard but worth it.

  “Deprivation,” he purrs, his hot breath on my clit driving me insane with need. “I’ll take you to the cusp, make you beg for it, and then not deliver. You’ll want to come so bad, but I won’t let—”

  His words are cut short when a shriek leaves my throat. Stars explode around me and I clench around his fingers. I’ve been so desperate for gentle touches and caresses that his hot breath coupled with the slow and sensuous touching within me sent me spiraling over the edge. My orgasm is long and greedy. I let it possess my body so I can ride the pleasure right out of this new prison. When my body finally relaxes, he jerks his fingers from me and points a wet accusing finger at me.

  “You weren’t supposed to come!” he roars.

  I blink at him and nervously bite on my bottom lip. “It just happened. You made it happen.”

  SHE STARES AT ME WITH wide eyes in confusion. Her cheeks are slightly rosy from her orgasm and her blue lips are parted.

  Fuck.

  Her gray eyes kill me. When I look into her eyes, I don’t see that cunt Anta. I see her. Natalie. Whoever the fuck she is. And when I see her, my brain gets all jumbled and unfocused. I forget my mission. My motherfucking purpose.

  I was barely touching her. How the fuck did she come so fast?

  My gaze rakes over her shivering form, lingering at her peaked nipples before trailing down to her glistening cunt. Her thighs are still parted, giving me an unobstructed view of her pink pussy. Open and inviting. My dick is hard and aching in my jeans.

  “You weren’t supposed to come,” I snarl again. I yank at the buckle of my belt and begin undoing my jeans. Her innocent eyes widen, but she doesn’t push me away or tell me no. The woman is fucking with me on so many levels. I get off on their screams and resistance. This one seems to beg for me and I’m willingly giving her what she wants.

  “Heart…”

  I groan and close my eyes. With my throbbing cock in my hand and my eyes not locked with hers, I’m back in hell with Anta. I stare evil in the face in my living nightmare.

  “Heart…”

  Fuck, the voice is all wrong.

  Too sweet. Too soft. Too gentle.

  Unwillingly, I open my eyes to see her staring at me with a mixture of emotions swirling through her. A small amount of fear but a heavy dose of desire.

  Fuck.

  I grab onto her neck with one hand and pump my dick with the other. “I’m going to fuck your cunt raw, Anta. Make you bleed. You’ll wish you were never born.” I line the tip of my cock up with her soaked pussy and begin pushing in.

  “Natalie,” she breathes.

  A hard thrust and I’m deep inside of her. Hot and tight as fuck. This is supposed to be painful and torturous for her. She’s supposed to pay for what she did to me and my men.

  “Heart…”

  I slam into her once more, our slick bodies slapping against each other. Her cunt clenches around me as her fingernails dig into my shoulders. She claws at me as though she needs my body rather than it disgusting her. When she begins tugging at my sweater, I snap out of my daze and squeeze her throat tighter. Her breath hisses from her, but her cunt keeps gripping my dick. Almost like…

  “Oh!” she cries out, her entire body spasming once again.

  I stare down at her in disbelief as she shudders. For a moment, I’m transfixed on her mouth. Plump, pouty lips—lips I’d love to see wrapped around my cock one day. The thought, albeit confusing, has me groaning with my own orgasm. My balls tighten up as my seed spurts inside her. I fill her up with my cum and bask in the sounds our bodies make as I fuck the last of it into her.

  “You came inside me,” she utters, her voice soft. “What about—”

  I yank out of her, reveling in the whine that escapes her. My eyes flit to her now bright red pussy and I stare at the way my cum leaks from her opening. I collect some of my cum on my fingertip and hold it out in front of her mouth. As if she can read my mind, she lifts up and runs her tongue along my finger, licking up the semen like it’ll feed that empty belly of hers.

  “It doesn’t matter if I come inside you,” I tell her, jerking my finger from her mouth. “You’ll be dead within a matter of months anyway.”

  Her brows scrunch together. I should be moving away and leaving this room. What I shouldn’t be doing is stroking my still-wet cock until it’s hardening again.

  “Why?” Her gray eyes bore into me. Accusing and sad. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re her,” I tell her, the usual venom in my voice gone.

  “I’m not.”

  I slide off the bed, my jeans hanging at my thighs, and I continue to jerk on my cock that probably smells just like her. Honey. Sweet fucking honey. My cock throbs in my grip in agreement.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, my voice gruff.

  Her eyes fall to my dick before she looks up at me again. “You know I am.”

  “Can I trust you to be a good girl? Natalie?”

  Her name on my lips feels right and she seems to agree because her gray eyes glimmer to life. “You can.”

  Wordlessly, I grab hold of her shoulders and slide her over to the edge of the bed. Her head hangs off the edge so she’s looking up at me and her tits jiggle with each nervous breath she takes. When my dick rubs against the side of her neck, she reaches for it. I’m in a delicate position with my balls so close to her face. All she’d have to do was turn her head and bite them. My dick softens at that thought, but then she’s touching me. Her small hand that feels like ice wraps around my cock.

  “You can trust me, Heart. I’m not her.” She wants something and I can see it in her eyes.

  I’m about to tell her to shut up when she guides my cock into her hot mouth. Her throat bulges the deeper I slide into it. I can feel her teeth scraping against my shaft, but she doesn’t use them. My balls are smashed against her nose. Her fingers touch them, but she doesn’t try to hurt me.

  Leaning forward, I grab onto her perky, bouncing tit. I grip it and pinch her nipple. Vibrations moan through her throat, making me want to come right then. I refrain and start thrusting my hips. Her throat feels different than her cunt but just as good. I wait for her to gag or cry or push me away, but she doesn’t.

  She’s trying.

  Like a w
oman who’s done this one too many times.

  Is she fucking playing me?

  I stiffen and start to withdraw, but her fingernails dig into my hairy thigh. I fixate on her bulging throat. My body loses control. I fuck her hard and furious. Her teeth cut into my flesh but not on purpose. She does gag, and hell, if she had anything in her stomach, she’d probably vomit, but nothing comes out. Her nails cut holes into my skin, but it only heightens the sensations. With a ragged groan, I come violently. My cock jerks within her throat as I spill more of my seed into this body that now belongs to me. Her throat contracts as her body naturally tries to swallow it down. I slide past her sharp teeth and step away from her.

  She quickly sits up and kneels on the bed facing me. Her dark hair is wet, wild, and tangled as fuck. Those gray eyes of hers have hardened to stone, but her lips are bright red and supple as hell. Slobber and cum are smeared across her face. Her tit is already bruising where I gripped it so violently.

  Fuck.

  She’s hot as fucking hell and she’s mine.

  Earlier, I lost my damn mind.

  That won’t happen again.

  I’m refocused and ready to continue my work to tear her down piece by piece.

  Then why am I ladling hot soup into a bowl meant for her?

  Why am I tucking a water bottle under my arm and grabbing a sleeve of saltines on my way out of the kitchen?

  I try to tell myself that she needs to eat. A corpse is no fun to torture. I need a live body. Someone to fight me every step of the way. Someone to pay for Anta’s actions. I’ve almost got myself convinced until I push inside her room.

  She lies on the bed, tucked into a tiny ball. Her hair hides her face from me. I’ve had many women, five to be exact, in this same position. Cold and alone. Desperate. Yet none have made my stomach clench upon seeing them. Guilt has never clawed its way up inside of me and held me hostage.

  They deserved it because Anta deserved it.

  They paid for the things Anta did because Anta couldn’t.

  But Natalie?

  The fact I see her as anyone other than Anta is a problem.

  Fuck.

  “Sit up,” I bark.

  “I can’t,” she breathes. “I’m too weak.”

  I place the items on the bedside table and sit. She doesn’t fight me when I pull her into my lap. The chain makes her heavier, but I like having the security of knowing she won’t run away. She curls up against me, desperate for my warmth. My gut reaction is to deny her, but my male instinct won’t allow me to.

  Protect.

  Provide.

  I’m officially losing my fucking mind.

  I sweep the hair off her face and study her soft features. She peeks her eyes open and it reminds me that this is not Anta. And because of that small reminder, I’m reaching over to the spoon and bringing a hot sip of broth her way.

  She moans the moment it makes its way past her lips. At first she’s messy and slow, but the moment she gets more of it into her stomach, she becomes more eager. I feed her sip by sip until the bowl is empty. I know from experience that she can’t handle much more. I’ll leave the crackers for her to nibble on until her body gets acclimated to having food in her once again.

  “Drink this,” I grumble as I open the water bottle.

  It spills down her chin as she greedily sucks down the water. I don’t let her have much before screwing on the lid and setting it down.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs, her fingers clinging to my shirt.

  “I’m just keeping you alive so I can slowly kill you.”

  She doesn’t respond. Probably because she doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t even believe me.

  I peel her from my body and push her back down onto the bed. She doesn’t have the strength to fight me off. Her fingers scratch at my sweater and it’s as if she wants to keep me near.

  “Please stay,” she murmurs, fat tears welling in her eyes.

  I shake my head at her and leave. But instead of leaving for good, I grab a blanket from the hall closet and bring it back to her. She watches me with appreciation as I cover her up.

  “Please stay.” Her beg is one I’m not used to hearing and it does things to my insides. Fucks with my head. Makes me wish I didn’t have all this shit brewing inside my head so I could lie down with her.

  I step away from the bed and grit my teeth. “No.”

  Her look of being rejected as it crumples her face is the last thing I see before I storm from the room. She’s making me lose my damn mind. I need to get a handle on this shit and fast.

  Or else…

  She’ll do what Anta never could.

  She’ll end me once and for all.

  IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE we had sex. Since the day I sucked his cock of my own free will. He’s fed me a couple times a day and kept me hydrated. However, he hasn’t spoken to me or looked at me. I’m beginning to stink again, but I’m afraid to mention it. What’s worse is that my body seems to thrum whenever he’s near. When he was being cruel, I didn’t physically crave his nearness. Now that he’s feeding me, I’m desperate for more from him.

  Attention.

  Stolen looks.

  Gruff words.

  Anything.

  I’ve spent years locked up as Alan’s personal slave and the moment I’m with a different human being—no matter the fact he’s just as screwed up—I’ve become desperate for him. I want him to help me. I need him to help me.

  On the fourth day, I decide to break the weirdness between us and ask him for something.

  “Heart?”

  He hands me the plate with a sandwich and reluctantly drags his gaze to mine. I can’t get a read on him, but I can tell he’s mentally struggling. With what, I don’t know.

  “Can I ask you for something?” I take the plate from him and flash him a smile.

  His eyes narrow. “What?”

  “Do you have…” I bite on my bottom lip. “Do you have any books I could have?”

  “Are my meals not satisfying enough?” He smirks.

  “Not to eat it,” I huff out. “To read.”

  He grins at me, baring his pearly white teeth. The man is gorgeous. All muscle covered by intricate ink. I could stare at him all day. “No.”

  “No?” Anxiety clenches my stomach and I frown at him. “Why not?”

  “Because you want it and I’m not here to give you what you want.”

  I glare at him. “Even after…”

  “After we fucked?” His brow lifts in question. “Sorry, honey, but you weren’t that good of a lay.”

  Hot tears sting my eyes and I desperately blink them away. I choose to look out the window rather than at him. “You’re no better than Alan.”

  He leans over the bed to capture my chin in his brutal grip. I’m forced to look his way. “You’re right. I’m fucking worse,” he hisses.

  I don’t provoke him by arguing, but he’s definitely not worse than Alan. “I’m so bored.”

  His hand slides away and he grabs his cock through his jeans. “You need to be entertained?”

  If I tell him no, will he leave me all alone for hours on end again?

  “Are you really going to kill me?” I ask, my voice small.

  “Yes.”

  I swallow. “When?”

  “Whenever the hell I want.”

  Staring up at him, I let out a heavy sigh. “Can you just do it already? If this is going to be my life being bounced from one psychopath to another, just kill me now.”

  I don’t really want to die, but sometimes hopelessness threatens to suffocate me. Sometimes I let it. Escape seems like such a silly notion. So far out of reach, I can’t even see it anymore.

  “Eat your sandwich,” he barks. “You don’t get to decide shit.”

  With hopeless tears in my eyes, I wolf down the sandwich even though I’m not very hungry. I eat, though, because I never know if the meal will be my last. When I finish, he sets the plate on the bedside table and stares at
me. His brows are furrowed together as if he’s thinking.

  “I had plans for us tonight,” he says, his eyes darkening. He pulls a knife from his pocket and flips open the blade. “Plans you wouldn’t like.”

  I keep my attention on the shiny knife. My heart rate skitters in my chest. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  He laughs, the sound maniacal and evil. “That’s exactly what the other five begged for as well. Although, I must say, they were a little more convincing in their effort to make me feel sorry for them. Sobs. Sexual favors. The whole nine yards. All I get from you is a polite request and a pouty as fuck look. Can’t say I’m impressed, Natalie.”

  Natalie.

  “Did you listen to them?”

  He smirks. “Nope.”

  “So the fact I’m different is a good thing?”

  His eyes widen slightly before he grits his teeth and shakes his head. “I don’t like different. I like when things go as planned.”

  “What did you do to them?”

  He grabs a handful of my hair and brings me to my knees on the bed. The chain clangs and clatters. From this close, I can smell him. His scent makes my mouth water. “I hurt them.”

  “How?”

  The tip of his blade pokes me between my ribs on my side. “I cut them.”

  “Is that how they died?”

  “Not right away.”

  “Are you going to cut me?”

  In answer, he drags the sharp tip along my flesh. He applies just enough pressure that it tugs at my skin but doesn’t pierce it. It’ll definitely leave a scratch mark, though. “I might.”

  “Heart…”

  He pushes the tip into my skin and I let out a sharp gasp. Heat trickles down my side and I don’t have to look to know he’s drawn blood.

  “Ow,” I breathe, my heart racing in fear.

  “I cut them so many times.” His manic eyes meet mine and he’s far from the man who brought in my food not long ago. He’s lost in his madness. Fixated on his prey.

  “Did Anta cut you?”

  My words seem to startle him and he lets out an anguished groan. The knife slips from his grip, falling to the mattress.