by J, Bella
With my knife still in hand, I slowly moved in behind him, staring at the back of his head. The blade of my knife was pressed against the pad of my thumb. I glanced at Manic, and he nodded, eyes wild with bloodlust.
I looked at Ink, and he too gave me a nod, arms still crossed in front of his chest.
Then I turned to face Dutch, my enforcer. My guide. My adviser. And my best friend. This was hard for him, and I could only image how at odds he had to be right at that moment. How conflicted he had to have felt. But just like the rest of us, Dutch knew it had to be done.
He nodded, and my blade sliced across the unsuspecting prospect’s throat. It was quick. Deep. And instant.
His head fell to the front, and blood gushed down his chest. There was no other way. He was too loyal to Slither for us to have let him go. Knowing the Pythons planned patch overs put us at an advantage to make sure we got the numbers together. If we let the prospect go, he would have told Slither we knew, and we’d lose the advantage. We couldn’t let that happen.
It was unfortunate that we had to spill young blood, and I knew Dutch would struggle with it the most. But in our world…it was live and let die.
There was nothing left to say after I killed the poor bastard, so I left even though the blood in my veins was still simmering. After pumping my own fucking cock, then torturing and killing some poor asshole who made dumb decisions, I still felt like I needed more. It was like the demons in me weren’t sated, and they were thrashing against my chest, threatening to break my ribs apart in order to get out.
Deep inside, I knew no amount of alcohol, blood, or death would satisfy the monsters. Only her. Just her.
I tried to wait. I tried to control it. Tried to give it time…until she was ready.
But the time had come. The time was now…whether she was ready or not.
20
Alyx
It had to have been a dream. It wasn’t real; I could feel it in my gut. This was one of those dreams where you knew you were dreaming while in the dream.
Granite was standing outside my house, his motorcycle parked behind him. And he was staring up at me, smiling, waving his arms, asking me to come down. It was daytime, the sun at its highest. That alone convinced me this wasn’t real. Granite only came out at night when the moon was high.
Two men were standing behind him, but I couldn’t see their faces. But Granite’s face, it was light, glowing, his eyes filled with excitement. That was my second clue to knowing this wasn’t real. Granite’s face was hardly ever anything but cold, hard stone.
I was leaning against the window frame, and I could feel my heart race, a thousand butterflies fluttering in my belly. It might not have been real, but I was feeling all the feels. My skin tingled, my body surging with energy, and I wanted to run to him. I wanted to go to him and let him wrap his arms around me. It wasn’t something I could fight, and here, in this dream, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to fight these feelings for him, not like when he held me captive in a room, tied to chair. Here I was free to want him, to desire him, to be obsessed with him.
Excited and eager to get to him, I stormed out of my room, running down the stairs. My mom was waiting for me by the door, and I prepared myself for an argument. As I approached her, mentally ready to fight for what I wanted—the man waiting for me outside—I stopped when I noticed her lips were sewn shut with white thread. Her blue eyes were wild, panicked, and she made the most horrifying noises trying to open her mouth. Scared and bewildered, I backtracked one step at a time, the sight of her mutilated mouth making me sick to my stomach. There were so many nights, so many fights during which I’d wish she could just shut up. Times when the sound of her voice sent shudders through my body, her words breaking my heart over and over and over again. There were times she’d make me cry, and I would think that mommies weren’t supposed to make their children cry. They were supposed to comfort them when they cried, something my mom did the exact opposite of.
Here she was, lips sewn shut, her eyes scared and teary. She was me. In this dream, she had become me. My mouth was always closed, and I never retaliated. Never told her how I really felt. And my eyes had cried so many tears over her—some because of the hurt she caused me, some because of the fear she evoked.
Slowly, I moved back more, never taking my eyes off her face. The longer I looked at her, the less her grotesque appearance bothered me. All I cared about was him.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” With those words, I rushed past her and out the door. The bright sunlight stung my eyes, but I knew exactly where he was standing, and I ran straight to him. My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough, my skin already hungry for his touch. When I came within a few feet from him, I stopped, wanting a moment to look at him. To just…look at him. Granite truly was magnificent. Tall, strong, powerful. It was easy to see why women would flock to him, be drawn to the mystique that surrounded his persona. His silent confidence complimented by his broad shoulders made you aware how big and robust he really was. Authority. Aggression. Dominance. It oozed out of him, and it was impossible to ignore.
But there was something else about him. Something that managed to wrap around me like a veil…protecting me. Yes. That was what it was. Like a shield, a guardianship that he owned when it came to me. To everyone close to him. That was what Neon was trying tell me. Granite protected his family. He was their guardian, and beneath every hard layer of hostility, viciousness, and anger was a man who…cared. It was clear now that I took the time to just look at him.
It was weird. I knew this was a dream, yet it felt so real. Like all this was really happening, I was figuring him out, fitting together all the puzzle pieces so I could see the picture of the man he truly was.
He held out his arms, and I slowly approached him. This was the moment I had been waiting for, for so long. The moment my stranger in the dark would finally wrap his arms around me and whisk me away. My heartbeat was loud, my pulse racing. Everything inside me coiled tight, anticipation flickering in my gut along with the thousands of butterflies.
When I came within reach, he wrapped his arms around me—strong, big, long arms completely enveloping me as he pressed my body firmly against his. I inhaled, wanting to smell his familiar earthy scent of sandalwood. And his heat was comforting, soothing, calming me, so it felt like I was drifting in his arms. All these years, I dreamed of this moment, and it felt a thousand times better than I ever could have imagined.
I nuzzled my face deeper into his chest. “You came for me.”
“Of course, I did. You asked me to.”
My heart stopped, and I didn’t move. “What did you say?”
Fingers gently weaved through the hair at the back of my neck. “I said, of course I came for you. You asked me to.”
I looked up at him, confused. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. In fact, you asked me many times.”
Perplexed, I stepped back, but his hands were still on my elbows. “I didn’t ask you to come for me.”
“You did. Don’t you remember?” The emotion on his face didn’t change. It was still the picture of bliss and contentment. Happiness. “You asked me every night, when you stood by your window. You asked me to come get you. To take you and free you.”
I shook my head. This was the part of the dream where everything changed. Where everything went from good to bad.
“I didn’t ask you to take me, Granite.”
“But you did.” He stepped forward, but I retreated farther. “Alyxandria, what’s wrong?”
“I didn’t ask you.” I shook my head, my gaze falling to the well-manicured lawn. “I didn’t ask you.”
“You did. You asked me to take you.”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
It was starting to hurt, the confusion and turmoil of reality slowly beginning to eat away the dream. It was hurting me. It was clawing at my soul and tearing off my skin. I felt it. The pain started at my wrists, growing stronger, tighter. And then my feet.
“Stop,” I whispered. And when I looked up at him, he locked his lips over mine, kissing me. It was gentle at first. Soft. Beckoning me to open for him. And I did. Even with all the confusion still storming inside me, I opened for him and moaned when I felt his tongue against mine. Soft strokes and tender lips. This kiss was nothing like the one we had already shared. But the longer he kissed me, the more eager he became—the more eager I became. It was a slow burn starting in my spine, making its way to every corner of my body. The deeper his tongue moved inside my mouth, the more my sex began to throb, my skin tingling with a need to be touched. To be kissed. To be ravished by him.
Heat spread down my arms, a burning ache settling in my wrists. It felt different than the desire that had my body humming with need. More and more, my wrists started to burn with a pinching ache.
“What’s happening?” I whispered against his lips, refusing to move away.
“You need to wake up, ballerina girl.” Then he kissed me again, but harder this time, his tongue no longer exploring, but claiming. “Wake up, Alyx.”
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
“Wake up, ballerina girl.”
Please wake up. Wake up now.
“Wake up, Alyx. It’s time.”
I smelled him before I opened my eyes. “Granite,” I whispered, breathing rapidly, oxygen getting stuck in my throat. “What are you doing?”
While leaning over me, licking his lips as if he could still taste me, he glanced from my mouth to my eyes. “I’m kissing you.”
It took me a moment to shake the remnants of my vivid dream. Trying to wipe my eyes, I felt something restricting my arms. I couldn’t move. Tugging and yanking, I realized my wrists were tied to the bedpost. My feet as well. “What is going on? Granite, untie me.”
“I told you, the next time you welcome my tongue in your mouth, you have to be prepared to welcome me between your legs.” He straightened, and my gaze raked over his naked chest. Granite was a mountain, every roped muscle oozing strength and power. His arms seemed like weapons hanging from broad, sloped shoulders, and I remembered what it felt like having them around me when he kissed me. It was a feeling I wanted to experience again, being held within the confines of his arms.
Wearing only a pair of jeans, I was able to follow the trail of black hair that subtly disappeared beneath the denim.
Flickers of light came from candles placed around the room, and it cast a hundred shadows over him, emphasizing how dark and wicked he truly was. But the way he stared down at me reminded me of the man I had just seen in my dreams, and for a moment, I was that girl. The girl who stared at the man she was hopelessly attracted to and undeniably infatuated with. The girl who wanted to feel him against her. But it felt reckless, wanting him, my mind still trying to fight.
A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve waited so long for you, ballerina girl.”
I tugged at the ropes. “No. This is not right.”
“Yet you kissed me back.”
“I was asleep.”
Dark curls fell over his shoulders as he pulled his fingers through his hair. “What were you dreaming about, Alyx?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t remember.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying,”
“Well, then, there’s only one way to find out.” He towered over me and placed a single finger on my lips. The wild curls of his hair hung down the sides of his face, his beard as unruly as ever. Intense green eyes followed the movement of his hand as it slowly traveled down my chin…my chest…between my breasts causing me to shiver.
I let out a whimper, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. A part of me wanted to slap that smile off his face, hating that he knew he affected me this way. But the biggest part of me relished his touch, loving the way my body climbed higher and higher, closer to the edge.
Biting his bottom lip, he traced his finger down my stomach, and I cursed my body for responding to his touch. This wasn’t something I wanted, yet my body made no secret about the fact that it was exactly what it wanted. And Granite knew that. He was so confident because, as he had claimed before, he knew me. He had been a part of my life long before I was even aware.
As his touch stopped just above the waistband of my tights, his gaze cut to mine for a second before he looked down again. “A woman’s body has a voice of its own, Alyx. It can tell a man exactly what it wants.” The tip of his finger teased across my skin, threatening to dip beneath the fabric. A part of me wanted to push his hand away, but another part of me urged him to touch me lower. It was utterly insane how my body burned for him, flames promising to incinerate me while my skin hungered to feel his warmth. I tried to fight it. I tried to remain strong, to not succumb to the desire he so easily stirred within me. By the way lust pooled between my legs, I knew I was losing the fight.
“What do you think I’ll find when I touch you…there?” Fingers dipped in beneath the waistband, dangerously close to where it ached.
“Nothing.” I swallowed hard, the lie feeling like gravel in my throat.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” He moved his wrist, and a single digit slipped through my sensitive folds, and I couldn’t stop the moan from escaping me.
“Ballerina girl, it seems your body is weeping for me.”
“Screw you.”
“Soon.”
A finger dipped lower, pushing against my entrance, and my hips bucked.
“Jesus, Alyx. Your body is just as desperate as your pussy is wet.”
“Stop.” The plea lacked desperation but weighed heavily with longing.
The pad of his finger brushed against my clit, and I arched my back, an electric current surging up my spine.
“Granite, this isn’t right.” My voice was soft, too soft, lacking conviction.
With leisurely circles against the bundle of nerves, he pushed me toward an edge no man had ever taken me to. But I got yanked away from the edge when he pulled his hand out of my pants, the elastic of my tights snapping against my skin.
Rapid breaths caused my chest to rise and fall, and I closed my eyes, desperate to get a handle on myself, to will my body into fighting. If I had to succumb, if I had to submit to him now, I’d be lost forever. It would be a reckless mistake I’d never be able to come back from. I knew with every ounce of my being that if I allowed him to possess me once, he would never let me go. And I wouldn’t want him to.
Something cold pressed against my ankle, and I jerked. “What are you—” My shoulders ached as I tried to lift my head. Looking down, I saw a knife glinting with evil intent as he pressed it against my skin. “Jesus, Granite. Stop.”
Fear thundered against my ribs, and I tried to thrash.
“Lay still, Alyx. We wouldn’t want this blade to slip, now, would we?”
“Granite, please stop. You’re scaring me.”
“Yet your pussy is still wet for me.” With a yank, he cut through the ropes around my ankle before leaning over me, freeing my other foot from being bound to the bed.
My first instinct was to kick him in the face, but it proved futile as he grabbed my ankle. “Play nice, or I swear to God I’ll tie you up in a way that leaves that virgin pussy of yours exposed and ready for me to desecrate in a way that won’t be fun,” he grinned, “for you, anyway.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He let go of my leg then reached for the hem of my shirt. “You and I both know this moment has been a long time coming.”
I flinched as he ripped my shirt straight down the middle, fabric falling down my sides.
Tears prickled my eyes, knowing I was exposed. No man had ever seen me like this, regarded me in such a sexual way. And this wasn’t how I imagined it. Ropes, and knives, and tears were not part of how I imagined my first time would be.
“Please,” I whispered before his warm lips enclosed my nipple. The sen
sation swooshed straight through to my belly, and I moaned involuntarily. Tears finally escaped, slipping down the side of my face even though my body responded to the way his tongue lapped against the hard bud, making leisurely circles just like his finger had done earlier against my clit. How was it possible to hate how this was happening, yet I didn’t want it to stop? It was like my mind and my body were at odds with each other, one trying to fight while the other was eager to surrender.
My back arched when his lips let go of my nipple with a pop. Rough, warm hands touched my hips, and I had no idea what he was doing…until he pulled the tights from my legs, my feet slamming down on the mattress.
“Granite, please stop.” More tears poured down my face, and my belly started to ache. There were too many conflicting emotions, feelings running rampant inside me, and it was starting to tear me apart.
“I told you,” he started. “I warned you the next time you kiss me back, I won’t leave until I’ve made you bleed.”
“Jesus,” I cried, feeling like I was drowning in panic. “You’re a fucking savage.”
“Shhh,” he cooed, and his gentle touch started at my left foot, slowly brushing across my skin as it moved upward. My body shivered, my legs squirming above the sheets. “I’m going to make you feel good, Alyx. Why do you think I’ve kept men away from you all this time?” His touch stopped as it reached my hip, fingertips teasing my skin.
My sex clenched, knowing how close he was to touching me there. I wanted him to touch me there. Yet I wanted him to stop. Fuck!
A single finger traced across my skin, settling just above my sex, and my hips moved, my body’s desperation for pleasure taking the reins.
I pulled against my restraints, crying out while pinching my eyes closed, hating yet loving every second of his torture.
“I made sure your innocence remained because I wanted to be the one who corrupted it.”
